Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We… share… a passionate… kiss…” 

Lightning flashes white against the blanket of grey clouds in the night sky. Shimmering raindrops patter rhythmically against the window, slipping down the glass like tiny comets. The only illumination in the dark room comes from the light of a whirring laptop. Slender fingers dart across the keyboard, typing each word out one character at a time. 

“And it was there… that he said…” 

The author rolls his chair back, fingers clasped behind his head. He purses his lips, staring thoughtfully at his manuscript. He runs a hand through his black hair, racking his brains for the next line. He’s supposed to post this chapter today, but he’s suffering from intense writer’s block.

“‘Would you… spend… the night here?’” 

He stabs at the Backspace key, till the entire line is cleared. 

“‘I’m cold and lonely tonight. I’m—’”

Backspace again. Delete the whole slop.

“‘Don’t… worry. My father… won’t… find out. Keep me… company?’” 

Two agonising hours later, the chapter is done. With just one click of the “Send” button, it goes out into the world. The time displayed on the bottom right corner of his screen tells him that it’s way past midnight. The rain has stopped, and the sun is about to rise on a brand-new day. 

Ivan shuts his laptop down and he throws himself onto his bed. He snuggles into his pillow, hugging his prized body pillow, and he shuts his eyes. It’s time to go to sleep. Come afternoon, he’d have to start work on his new chapter, lest he ends up in a similar situation as today.

Ivan peers at his poster on the wall, of his favourite actor posing ever so dramatically with a pistol in hand for his blockbuster crime movie that just came out. His heart rate speeds up, rattling against his ribcage. Later this evening, he’d be attending one of his fanmeets. He’d be able to get up close and personal with his favourite actor!

The thought puts a wide smile on Ivan’s face as he squashes his face into his pillow, screaming silently into the poor cotton. He simply can’t wait . 

*

Till has his legs kicked up on the table, his phone in hand, as stylists flit around him doing his hair and makeup. He’s due for a shoot in about half an hour, which is supposed to last the whole day. After which, he’ll have a fanmeet in the evening till the late hours of the night. Thank God he has virtually nothing on his schedule the next day, or he’ll be dead on his feet. 

A notification pops up on his phone. It’s the latest chapter of the fanfiction he has been following—a historical romantic drama between himself and a reader. Admittedly, he used to scorn fanfiction. After all, they were just an outlet for fans to express their fantasies in the only civilised way they can think of. 

He doesn’t know when, doesn’t remember when, but he started searching up fanfiction of himself. Perhaps it was due to curiosity, or perhaps he saw a snippet on his timeline that he happened to be tagged in by a hopeful fan. Either way, he was intrigued, and that led to Till devolving into a life of chasing fanfiction updates. Mostly about himself.

It’s rather interesting how fans write about him and his character. Nearly ninety-nine-point-nine percent of them are completely off base when it comes to his real personality. He reads about different worlds, each one distinct from the next. He reads about different characters, all played by him across the numerous films he participated in. Hospital director, gangster, jaded office employee, park ranger, soldier bleeding out on the battlefield, and many more. 

He has seen himself paired with literally every other character in existence. The female lead—for obvious reasons—then there are ships with his rivals, his enemies, random side characters that Till doesn’t even remember. 

Needless to say, Till has officially fallen down the rabbit hole of fanfiction. Only those starring himself, mind. He can’t care less about works written of other people. 

Most fanfiction he reads are one-shots. Or, at the maximum, two-shots. He’s not a fan of long works—as a young person, his attention span is rather limited owing to the hours and hours he spends scrolling SNS peppered with short-form videos and posts that are no longer than a few lines of text. 

There has only been one long fanfiction that caught his eye. It boasted at least a thousand likes and two hundred comments. It stretched fifty chapters long and it’s still ongoing. The main character’s name is “Y/N,” whatever that means. 

Till clicked into it, and that was the start of his obsession. It was a historical drama, set in the Joseon dynasty, with Till as a lowly servant boy and Y/N as a magistrate. Till smirked at first—he’s seen this sort of power dynamic before. Soon, he’d be bending over backwards—or just bending over a table or something—to serve the official whatever they desired. 

The more Till reads, the more invested he becomes. More so than the characters, the author’s worldbuilding is impressive. It may not be true to actual history, but the way they write the battles that take place, the way people spoke during that time, the hierarchy between the classes of society are all believable, even if they are inaccurate. 

Before he realises it, he finished reading the fifty available chapters, and he pines for more. He creates an account, naming himself something generic—TilltheEnd—like what a fan would name themselves, and he subscribes to the work. It is the only thing he used his account for.

Since then, there has been twenty chapters, one posted every week on Friday, between eight to ten p.m. This chapter took a while longer, released at six a.m. on Saturday. For a moment, Till was afraid the author dropped it. He has seen many fanfictions on indefinite hiatus, some dropped midway through with an apology note, or fanfictions where there have not been any updates for ages.

He's just glad that the author hasn’t abandoned the work. 

“Till-ah! You’re up!” the director calls.

“Yeah, yeah, coming,” Till huffs. He stuffs his phone back into his bag, zipping it up, and he heads back on set.  He’ll read the newest chapter later, when he has a break in between scenes.

*

“You, sir, live in a dump ,” Sua mutters as she sits at Ivan’s tiny dining table, a large container of seafood stew placed between the both of them. Ivan hangs his head, because he can’t say that she’s wrong. It’s just that between his day job at the office and his fanfiction writing at night, he’s strapped for time to actually do his household chores. But he takes his rubbish out on time! The only things lying about the one-room flat are some of his sweaters and jeans.

“So, what time’s the fanmeet?” Sua asks.

“Seven p.m.” 

“That’s in two hours.”

“Yup.” 

“Don’t people usually arrive early for stuff like this?” 

“It is still early.” 

“No, I mean, like, hardcore fans would be there at two p.m.”

Ivan’s eyes go wide, his spoon clinking against his bowl. “What? Really?” 

“Yeah, or you’re gonna be at the very back, and your precious Till-hyung will be just a speck in the distance.” 

Ivan drops his cutlery and buries his face in his hands. “It’s my first time at a fanmeet! How am I supposed to know that?” 

“Well, you can—”

Ivan has already slurped up half the soup before Sua can even finish her sentence. He throws his phone and wallet into his messenger bag, a few posters that he would like Till to sign, and he promptly hoists it onto his shoulder. He seizes Sua’s wrist, ignoring her shrieks of protest, as he drags her out of his flat, kicking the door shut behind him. 

“Fuck, Ivan, my soup! I’ll kill you! I swear to God, I will end your fucking ass!” 

*

Till has read enough that he knows good smut when he sees it. And this is good smut. It’s hard to believe that this is the author’s first work. He clicked into the author’s account before, to find only one work to their name. Shame—he’d probably have read the rest if there were any more.

What surprised him, really, is that Till is… the top? Most fanfiction putting him in a same-sex relationship typically depict him as the bottom, owing to Till’s generally smaller stature. This is probably the first time that he has read a work where, despite having a more petite frame, he’s taking the lead. Boy, is it refreshing. 

The chapter ends way too soon. Till finishes reading it right after getting on the van to head to his fanmeet. He sighs, lamenting the fact that he has to wait another week for the continuation and the aftermath, now that Y/N’s father has returned from his trip one day early and caught the both of them in bed together. Cliché, but it keeps Till on his toes all the same. 

“You’re weird,” Dewey, Till’s manager, says, as he gets behind the wheel.

“I’m not weird,” Till shoots back immediately.

“Who the hell reads fanfiction about themselves?” 

“Plenty of people, I’m sure. Especially egocentric maniacs. Of which the entertainment industry is rife with.” 

Dewey barks out a laugh. “Am I to assume you are one of those egocentric maniacs?” 

Till shrugs. “Who can survive in this field if they’re not egoistic enough?” 

“I still think that you liking to read fanfiction of yourself is strange. Don’t you get weirded out by… you know. Your fans writing about you doing it with… other people?” 

“That is fiction, and I don’t mix fiction with fact. Please, I’m a professional who can separate my job with my personal life.” 

“Sure. Whatever you say.” 

The van takes off from the filming location, headed back down the countryside road and back to Seoul. 

*

Sua is right. The mall where the fanmeet is taking place is already filled with people, each one of them holding signs declaring “I love you!” and other words of encouragement. Ivan stares in despair, because he really is going to see Till as a speck in the distance. A very handsome speck, but a speck nonetheless. 

“What am I going to do now?” Ivan whimpers. 

“Well, you are a guy,” Sua says. “You could definitely muscle your way to the front. But you are also tall, so you could end up blocking people’s view. Honestly, it’d be best for people like you to stand at the back. From the perspective of a short person, of course.” 

Ivan sniffles. “But my Till-hyung…” 

“Oh, please, we’re not that far away. Besides, you’re going up to meet him later anyway, so I don’t think it really matters.”

Ivan nods dejectedly. He makes it a mental note now to arrive at least six hours earlier than the start time of future fanmeets, or just any fan event in general. 

“Ah, dammit, I can’t stand watching you whine like that,” Sua hisses. It’s her turn to grab Ivan by the arm and lug him through the crowd of fangirls. Ivan jerks forward, almost losing his balance. He tries not to think about the sharp glares shot at him from all directions. 

It takes a lot of jostling and elbowing, but they eventually reach the front of the crowd. Here, Ivan would be able to see Till in all his glory. He can already imagine those unruly locks of silver hair, those striking steel blue eyes that pierce into the depths of his very soul, his confident swagger as he walks up the stage. To be able to see Till in person—just moving and speaking inches from him—Ivan can die happy. 

“Ah!” Sua gasps, as someone bumps into her. She caresses her side where she was elbowed, as the pink-haired girl whips her head around, her ponytail smacking into Sua’s cheek. Ivan feels that he should really do something to curb that murderous intent burning in Sua’s eyes.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there,” the pink-haired girl cries, and she bows her head. “Did I hurt you?” 

Just as Ivan is trying to think of something to placate his hot-headed sister, he sees the shift in her expression. It’s hard to miss, really, when her perpetual snarl morphs into that of a… of a… Ivan has no idea how to describe it. None of the words in his vocabulary would do it any justice. Wonder, perhaps, would be an apt word? Sparkling eyes, lips parted ever so slightly, every hint of annoyance gone from her expression. Ivan should take notes.

Sua reaches into her purse, and she digs out her phone. She offers it to Mizi with a ninety-degrees bow. “Please give me your number, or I think I might die.” 

*

Till arrives at the mall quicker than he expected. He was hoping he could rest a little more, but alas, his fans call for him. And what can he do but obey the very people he owes his success to? 

The stylist gives him one final touch-up to his hair, before he steps out of the van, wearing his plastic, practised smile. He waves at his fans, meets the camera lenses, blinded by the incessant flashes. His fans chant his name as Till makes his way into the mall, down a carpeted walkway cordoned off just for his use. 

He high-fives fans, compliment their clothes, encourage them to watch his most recent work. Familiar lines that he has repeated again and again and again till he’s sick of it. Ah, if only he could just return to his dorm and find the next chapter of that fanfiction miraculously uploaded. It would be a dream come true.

For now, he’d have to contend with this fanmeet. A member of the staff hands him a microphone, and he strides to the centre of the stage. He makes sure to saunter, to sashay, to attract all attention on him. Aside from the lucky few fans who managed to obtain a ticket to his event, the second, third, and fourth floors are also bustling with cheering fans who just aren’t fortunate enough to secure a slot in the foyer of the mall.

Till rarely sees men at his fanmeets, which makes the young man dressed entirely in black stand out. His eyes are on Till, his hands gripping the fraying strap of his messenger bag so tightly that it might just snap at any moment. One can only describe his wide sparkling eyes and parted lips as wonder .

Not that Till’s used to anything different. He may be a man, but he’s also another one of Till’s fans. For some reason, he seems a little familiar. Like Till’s seen him somewhere before. But he just cannot put his finger on it. 

Whatever. If he can’t remember, it’s probably nothing important. 

“Evening, everyone. How are we all doing today?” Till greets, and his fans bellow their answer, the cacophony of noise making it impossible to make out they’re saying. “That’s good to hear. Have you all had dinner?” 

The chorus of “Yes” drowns out the muted “No,” and Till smiles. “You all should eat your dinner, okay? It’s not healthy to skip meals.” 

The fanmeet goes on as per usual. Till talking about his newest movie release, talking about upcoming events, thanking them for their support, going through a brief interview, and then it’s time for the fansign event. He settles down at the long table prepared specially for him, armed with a pen and a good deal of patience. He was promised that the signing event would end at nine p.m., but from past experiences, it could go on and on. 

Well, Till thinks, as he settles comfortably into his chair, which he would be sitting in for at least the next hour. Here’s to his off day tomorrow.

*

Ivan feels like he’s going to burst. He’s next in line for the fansign, his posters held so tightly in his hand they’re crumpling. Sua remains in the audience area, chatting up that girl who bumped into her earlier with no shame at all. Ivan wishes he can be born with her courage. But no, he just has to get the short end of the stick and be the coward.

His apparent cowardice is only more pronounced when the fangirl in front of him strides off, leaving the seat empty. All Ivan can hear is the incessant thudding of his heart in his chest, his thoughts a jumbled mess in his head. All he sees is Till’s bright smile, shining with a thousand watts. There he is—Ivan’s hero in person . 

He staggers over to Till, his legs losing strength with each step, to the point where he nearly drops into the seat. He’s very aware that he’s in full view of all the fans behind him, to his side, and above. He stares down at the table, barely able to lift his head and meet his idol’s eyes.

“Hi there,” Till says, his voice deeper and sultrier than Ivan imagined. Yes, seeing him and listening to him talk in real life is definitely better than he anticipated. Ivan’s ears are blessed . “How are you feeling today?” 

“G-Great,” Ivan stammers out, suddenly forgetting all the lines he memorised just for this one moment. He wants to tell Till how much he loves his works, how thankful he is to Till that his movies give him a sense of purpose and a will to continue to pursuing his life’s goals, and how he wishes Till the best on the rest of his career. But he can’t find the words, his tongue tied into knots. 

“That’s good to hear,” Till says, and he uncaps his marker. “Would you like me to sign your posters?”

“Yes, please!” Ivan says, and he springs to life like a marionette with its strings yanked. He lurches forth in his seat, and Till blinks in surprise as Ivan spreads out his scroll of movie posters, each with Till’s character taking centre stage. Love Hospital, Spring of Plum Blossoms, and Tiger of the Western Mountains. 

Till chuckles. “Wow, Tiger of the Western Mountains? That’s a very long time ago. It’s gotta be… three? Four years?” 

“Four years and three months exactly.” 

Till grins, baring his teeth, his eyes disappearing into crescents. “You remembered! That’s very nice of you.” 

Ivan’s cheeks heat up, and he squirms in his seat as Till trails the marker over the posters in his delicate scrawl. Till’s hands are small, smaller than Ivan’s, and his skin is smooth as a baby’s bottom. Ivan wants to reach out to touch him. Wonders how those hands would feel on him . 

“What’s the matter? You’ve been staring rather intently,” Till says. “I know I’m good-looking, but you’re pretty handsome yourself too.” 

Ivan blinks. As though his cheeks aren’t already red enough, they burn even brighter now, like someone lit a flame under his skin. Ivan tries to get a few words out, but all he can do is stammer out a thanks. Till flashes him one of his blinding grins, but something tells Ivan that there’s a hint of mischief in this one. 

“Here you are. Thanks for coming to my fansign,” Till says, as he hands the posters back to Ivan. “Hope to see you at the next one!”

“Y-Yes!” Ivan manages to get out, hoping he didn’t get any of his spittle onto Till, and he hopes that he doesn’t look too pathetic. “I’ll see… I’ll see you too!”

Till waves at him as Ivan gathers up his posters and he scurries away, his two minutes in heaven concluded as unremarkably as it began. He berates himself as he rushes off the stage, acutely aware of the curious stares of the other fans on him. He tries to find Sua in the crowd, but it is nearly impossible to spot his petite sister amidst the sea of fangirls. Although he spies the pink-haired woman joining the queue to head up the stage, he does not see his sister—

“Hey, I just went to the bathroom and you’re already done,” Sua says, tapping him on the shoulder. Ivan jumps, and he peers down at her. Sua’s expression morphs from her usual deadpan one to that of surprise. “Whoa, you’re not looking too great.”

“Can we get out of here, please?” Ivan pleads.

“Sure, okay. Let’s find, like, a McDonald’s or something. Jesus, what the hell happened up there?” 

Chapter Text

“So, you had a whole speech prepared but you couldn’t say a single word?” Sua says, licking at her small plastic spoon with a sundae in front of her drizzled with a swirl of chocolate sauce. Ivan sorrowfully sips on his Oreo McFlurry. 

“Yeah,” Ivan whimpers. Not even the disgusting sweetness of the drink can soothe the bitterness in his heart. “There were so many things I wanted to say, but… I squandered away the two minutes, and I think he spoke more than me! Noona, how could I ever face him now?”

Sua sighs, and she scoops another dollop of ice cream onto her spoon. “Well, why not go for the next event and, uh, say the things you didn’t get to say? I’m sure there’ll be more fansigns and movie premieres or whatever.” 

Ivan drops his face into his hands. “I embarrassed myself in front of him. I don’t think he ever wants to see me again.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“I don’t, but that’s what he probably thinks.”

“Hey, hey, you can’t just assume that. He might be thrilled that he has a male fan. That means his popularity is permeating into the other half of society.” 

Ivan hangs his head. “Why would he care about a male fan? I bet Till-hyung is surrounded by top-tier actresses and idols. He could get anyone he wanted. Right now, he’s probably surrounded by tons of women who want to be with him.” 

Sua blinks. “Well… I can’t say you’re wrong on that one.” 

“And he’s gonna remember me as the one guy who stayed quiet during his fansign event and totally embarrassed himself in front of him!” 

“You’re giving yourself way too much credit. I’d say he won’t even remember you at all.” 

Ivan lets out a pathetic whine. “If only I could have made a better impression on him…” 

“Don’t squander opportunities that are right in front of you,” Sua says. “When’s his next fanmeet? Get it together then and tell him how much he means to you. Did I raise a quitter?” 

“No,” Ivan sobs, “you raised a go-getter.” 

“That’s right.” Sua reaches over and pats his head. “That’s my little dongsaeng.”

*

“Hmm.” Till drops into his seat in his van like a stone. He still can’t get that fan out of his mind. The one guy who showed up to his fansign who’s there for him , and not just because his girlfriend forced him to attend. The one guy who stuttered and blushed ever so profusely. Rather cutely too , Till thinks. 

“Hey,” Till says. 

“What?” Dewey asks, as he hops into the driver’s seat. “If this is about your unhealthy obsession with fanfiction about yourself—”

“Did that guy look familiar?” 

“Which guy? Your one singular male fan?” 

“Yeah, that one. The cute one.” 

Dewey snorts, stepping on the clutch pedal and switching gears. “Well, I’ve never seen him before, if that’s what you’re asking. Or maybe I have, but I forgot.”

“Hmm… I’m very sure I’ve seen him somewhere before…” Till leans his forehead against the glass, waving to the fans who have come out to greet him on the pavement. Once they’re out onto the main road, he lets himself relax. His muscles are sore, and his mind spins. All he wishes he can have right now is a bubble bath and another chapter upload of his favourite fanfiction… 

Wait. 

Till reaches for his phone, opens up the fanfiction site and scrolls through his bookmarked fictions until he finds the one. The one about the magistrate and the servant. The spicy and raunchy one. Object of My Desire He reads the first chapter again, specifically the paragraph on the description of the magistrate.

“No way.” Till can’t stop the admittedly wicked grin growing on his face. “Hyung, there’s no fucking way.” 

“Language, you brat.” 

“No wonder he looked familiar. I’ve been imagining him when I was reading the fanfic!” 

They pause at a red light. Dewey turns back momentarily to shoot him a face. “What the fuck?” 

Till shrugs. “The description matches his features. What can I say?” 

“It’s probably a generic description and he probably has a generic face. You could be totally wrong for all you know.” 

“I know I’m right, because the character in this fiction has a snaggletooth too at the same position.” 

*

Ivan lies in bed, unable to sleep, replaying the fansign in his head over and over again. He’s let out all his tears with Sua already, and now he’s all alone in this shoebox flat, hugging his Till body pillow and decidedly not sleeping. Till’s voice was so gentle, his eyes sparkling under his long lashes, the elegant way he signed the posters, like he has been doing it for forever.

Well, he has been doing it forever, now that Ivan thinks about it. Ivan wishes he could have discovered Till all the way back when he was just a budding actor. He wishes he didn’t join halfway through his career, wishes he was, as they called it, an “OG fan.”

Ivan rolls onto his back, his Till body pillow resting against his chest. He stares up at his ceiling, at the spinning fan blades overhead. Sua might be right—Till probably won’t remember him. After all, he’s just another fan in a sea of faces. He’d show up to Till’s next fansign and Till would greet him just like any other fan, with no recollection of what occurred today.

Ivan doesn’t know what’s worse. The fact that Till could remember such an embarrassing version of him, or the fact that Till could forget him entirely thanks to his massive fanbase.

Ivan doesn’t realise he’s been biting his lip hard till he tastes blood on his tongue. Ivan licks at the stinging wound, whimpering again at the unbidden feeling of shame rising in him as he turns onto his side and squeezes his eyes shut. 

Despite his best efforts, sleep doesn’t come. At three in the morning, Ivan drags himself out of bed, his mind hazy and body sluggish. He drags himself to sit in front of his laptop. The moment he signs into his account, he sees a new notification on his fanfiction. He clicks into it, suddenly perking up at the mention of a new comment.

TILLtheEnd: This chapter was really spicy 🌶 ️ 🌶 ️ Keep up the good work!

That puts a small smile on Ivan’s face. He’s never seen this commentor before, but it’s an apt username for a fan of Till’s. 

He interlinks his fingers and cracks his knuckles, before opening up the document of his fanfiction. His fingers rest lightly on the keys, and just like magic, the fog clears, and his ideas begin flowing again. If there’s one good thing that came out of this fanmeet, it’s that he now has a better grasp on his idol and his mannerisms, and how kind he is, and how sexy he can be. 

Fantastic material for his fanfiction.

*

“Oh my God, hyung, it’s a bonus chapter!” Till cries. 

He only has time to access his phone just after ten a.m., when he’s taking a break after shooting a few scenes. The filming location is a beach this time, where Till and his co-star Luka would be walking on a boardwalk together, taking in the view of the sea. Then, they’d have a tranquil heart-to-heart to the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the jetties, against the backdrop of fishing boats bobbing in the water and the boundless sea that ends only at the horizon.

“What bonus chapter?” Luka asks, as he wipes his neck of sweat with, a towel around his neck. The crew fusses over his hair, as he’s due for his next solo scene.  

Dewey drags a hand across his face. “You don’t wanna know. I mean it.”

“Excuse you,” Till huffs. “This is the best piece of fiction I’ve read in a long time. I’m not gonna let you rain on my parade.” 

“Is this the one where the fan wrote a self-insert fanfiction of you?” 

Till blinks. “Self-insert?” 

Dewey stares at him, his face unreadable. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Self-insert fanfiction,” Luka says, holding up a finger, “is fanfiction where the readers can insert themselves into the fanfiction and pretend that they are the character in that story. Typically, they are written either in second person, or with ‘Y/N’.” 

“Yes, exactly that!” Till snaps his fingers. “Why’s it Y/N? What does Y/N mean?” 

Luka sighs, and he smirks. “Have you even been reading fanfiction, bro?” 

“Luka-sunbae, name your price,” Till says. “Teach me your ways.”

“What kind of sunbae would I be if I took money from you for something like this? All I need from you from now on, Tillie, is your respect.” 

“Forever and always, my respect is yours.” 

Dewey groans, clutching a water bottle in hand, probably resisting the urge to throw it at Till. “Save me from these lunatics.” 

*

Unknown472: WHAT? HOW? Nooooooo

Darkmist13: It’s ending???? 

LABSorrow:  Author-nim, you can’t just drop this bomb on us 😭😭

Coastcoast: Por qué?? 

Reena_noz: I’m sad it’s ending, but I hope they can get some peace together!! ❤ ️ 

theRECKONING: Dude I get jumpscared like this first thing in the morning aaaaaa

Scarlv: Omg we’re finally reaching the end… Thank you so much for the adventure, author-nim! 

Ivan breathes a sigh of relief now that the bonus chapter is up. There are really only two more chapters he needs to post to wrap everything up—one chapter where the magistrate takes down the tyrant king, and the epilogue, tying up the loose ends nicely and giving the main characters a perfect happily ever after.

It is two in the afternoon on a Sunday and Ivan is hugging his Till body pillow and kicking his feet, squealing like a deranged fangirl. He has answered Sua’s two messages—one asking whether he’s alright and if he needs her to come over with soondae, and the second thanking him for forcing her to go to that fansign event so she could meet the love of her life. 

Ivan thinks it’s the pink-haired girl she met that day and promptly got the number of. Meanwhile, Ivan is still here, curled up in bed, still single. And hungry. His stomach has been growling ever since he awoke. Ivan grabs his phone, and he scrolls through his apps. Perhaps it’s time he heads out and grabs some food. Or maybe he should get takeout—

Is that a notification from his favourite Till fan account? Ivan clicks into the notification instantly, and he sees a picture of Till at the beach, hanging out with another famous actor Luka. Till’s manager, Dewey, looks like he’s contemplating his life decisions in the back. 

Till looks so stunning. Ivan could stare at this picture for ages. He’s in the middle of obsessing over how good his sun-kissed skin looks when another notification pops up on his phone. It’s another comment on his fanfiction. 

TILLtheEnd: Wait, what? It’s ending? You can’t just end it like that! You have to continue! This fanfic literally brightens up my day every time I see an upload.

Ivan purses his lips. He’s always conflicted when he sees comments like this. On the one hand, he’s grateful that someone likes his work so much, but at the same time, it leaves him awfully caged. He doesn’t want to let his readers down, but he doesn’t want to let someone on the Internet dictate what he does with his work either.

It’s at times like this that Ivan has to be firm. He replies to each message in turn, thanking his readers for their support this whole time. When he reaches TILLtheEnd’s comment, he responds with: Unfortunately, this is all I have planned for the series. Don’t worry, I will be back with more works!  

Ivan sighs, and he rises. It’s time to head out and grab some lunch. Or dinner. He only has half a day of relaxation left before he has to go back to work tomorrow. 

Oh, how he wishes he can visit the beach that Till went to for his filming. There are probably at least a hundred fans there watching him stroll around with a Hawaiian shirt and Bermudas. They’re lucky to be able to witness the golden sheen of Till’s skin in the flesh, see him play uninhibited in the water with Luka and the staff, maybe. Ivan wishes that he were in Luka’s place instead. 

Alas, that is nothing but wishful thinking. Ivan is just a boring busy bee in the office, a junior member of staff, a paper-pusher, always just looking forward to his next paycheque. Well, at least he lives comfortably enough, so that’s something. Maybe if he had a bit more talent, was a bit more risk-taking, he could have succeeded as an actor and stood alongside Till on the same set.

Which is essentially a daydream probably half of Till’s fanbase has. Ivan is not even special in that regard.

Feeling both dejected (about his normality) and somewhat joyful (about seeing Till in beachwear), Ivan heads out of his house to grab a bite.

*

“My life is over,” Till mutters, as soon as the van reaches their destination: his condominium. He tries meeting Dewey’s gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror, but Dewey seems busy handling the gearstick. Either that, or he is pointedly avoiding his gaze. Till tries, a little louder, “I said , my life is over.” 

“I heard you the first time, and I have been desperately trying to think of a way to respond so that I won’t lose my job,” Dewey says, as he puts the vehicle into Park.

“You could have just asked me why.”

Dewey sighs. “Why is your life over?” 

“Because the fanfic is ending.”

“Oh, that’s good.” 

Till scowls. “You really want to lose your job, don’t you?” 

“I can never win.” Dewey leans against his steering wheel, and he asks, “So, the fanfic’s ending. I mean, you could just find another one to obsess over, or you can re-read it again. It has, what? Fifty something chapters?”

“Fifty-two. With the last chapter and an epilogue, it’ll be fifty-four.” 

“Oh. Well, at least you still have two chapters to look forward to.” 

Till pouts. “The author said that he’d write more, though. More stories.” 

“You don’t even know if that kid is the author.” 

“The snaggletooth, remember?”

“There could be another kid with the snaggletooth, and black hair, and eyes that are pools as dark as the blackest night, or something like that.” 

“You know what?” Till says. “I’m gonna find that kid.” 

“Please no. Think about the ramifications of your actions before you actually do them. Think about your poor manager who has to deal with the aftermath.” 

“But that’s what you’re here for.” 

Dewey glares at Till with an intensity that could wither people where they stand. Till, however, is impervious to his mannerisms, having worked with him for a good nine years already. He probably knows Dewey better than Isaac, Dewey’s boyfriend.

“Get out, you,” Dewey says. “I need to get to my date. Isaac’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.” 

“Hmm. I’m really tired, hyung. Maybe I could rest a bit more—”

“Get out before I make you.” 

It takes five minutes for Dewey to wrestle Till out of the van. Till huffs, slinging the strap of his messenger bag onto his shoulder, and he heads towards the lift. He lives on the topmost floor, because what else is he going to do with all that money besides indulging in luxury? 

The lift glides smoothly up to the top floor, the door opening and revealing a most cosy sight. The motion-sensor lights switch on as he walks down the hallway, and he makes a beeline for his bed. He drops onto the comfy mattress, his muscles sore. His eyes threaten to close, but Till forces them open, because he still needs to shower and he wants to sleep dressed in a fluffy bathrobe, not a coat and scratchy denim jeans.

After showering, Till heads out to the terrace. From here, he sees the glow of the evening sun as it trails behind the mountains. A spectacular view of Seoul sprawls out before him, the network of roads crisscrossing between the jungle of buildings, each of them dwarfed by the concentrated cluster of skyscrapers in the central business district. Cars are like ants, and people are like fleas. Till lets the evening breeze tousle his hair as he takes a moment to relax amidst the hustle and bustle of the city.

Somewhere in this city, that author is going about his everyday life. Perhaps thinking about how to end the fanfiction that Till has devoted his past few months to. Would he be swayed if Till is the one who asked him to continue? After all, that guy is enamoured with Till. He’s seen the effects his presence had on the kid during his last fansign.

Where the hell is he going to find the kid…? He has two weeks, because in two weeks’ time, the epilogue would be posted. It’s already Sunday evening, and it’ll be Monday tomorrow. With all his brand deals and filming, he has no time to spare searching for the boy. 

It is at that moment that a thought occurs to Till. Why in the world is he going to find that kid… when he can get the kid to find him? 

Till reaches for his phone on the small table in the terrace. He quickly types out and sends a message to Dewey.

Till: Remember that Starbucks ad? I’ll do it.

Chapter Text

There’s no way. Till is going to be distributing cups of Starbucks coffee on Wednesday, each cup personally signed by him! Ivan swoons, clutching the phone to his chest. He would give anything to see Till in person again. A chance to see that smile, to hear his voice, to hold his hand… His cheeks are beginning to burn thinking about it. 

What’s more, the distribution is taking place on his way to work. More specifically, the Starbucks right outside his office building, where most of his colleagues grab their coffees during lunch.

Well, it’s a shame that Ivan hates coffee. There’s just something about its raw and bitter taste that makes him nauseous. He could go and see Till, and maybe he’d get a coffee just for the cup. That is, if he even makes it into the queue before they run out of cups.

Already, Ivan pictures himself and Till seated at a table at a café. They’d be sharing drinks—or maybe not, if Till is a fan of coffee—and maybe cakes. They’d take turns feeding each other, like in the teaser for his upcoming movie Layer Cake. They’d chat about their lives, both the exciting and mundane aspects. They’d plan out their next date, be it to the movies, or the amusement park, or even just eating a simple meal at a streetside diner. As long as he gets to spend time with Till, Ivan’s totally fine with it.

He makes up his mind. He’s going to get a cup, let someone else drink the coffee, and he’d wash the cup to display on his shelf at home, alongside his other Till merchandise.

Ivan decides to while away the rest of his free time scrolling through SNS, watching Till fancams from his recent fanmeet, and Till fancams from his shoot this morning. 

*

It was a bit of a drag, but Friday soon arrives. Till slogged through several difficult shoots, he and Luka’s friendship were on the line over the best coffee brand in Seoul, and he had to film a behind-the-scenes video and a mukbang video over the last few days. Thankfully, this Starbucks ad is the last thing he’d have to do before he gets another chance to rest. And then, he’d have to participate in his next project: participating in a variety show alongside another actress he barely interacted with before.

At noon, Till unceremoniously drags himself out of bed and into the van to be driven to the Starbucks. He has picked the perfect location with a large, spacious square, where he should be able to see the kid if he just tiptoes. He’s not the tallest, but he’s at least taller than most of his fangirls.

It’s not that Till has never distributed merchandise before for brand deals. He’s stood under the hot sun using his face and fame to sell strawberries. He’s stood in malls, posing and modelling for jackets and hats, cologne and makeup. But this is the first time his mind is on something other than money. 

He’s looking for that awkward kid who came to his fansign. If he’s that much of a fan, surely he would be here, right? Till specifically chose lunch to do this, to give the kid enough time to rush down and get in line. After all, he looks young enough to be a university student. Whether or not he’s done his military service, Till can’t tell. He looks young, but he doesn’t look that young.

Till doesn’t forget to do his job. Dewey’s livelihood depends on him, after all. He hands out cups of coffees, signing on the curved surfaces till his arm is going to fall off, and yet, he still sees no hint of the lad. All girls, as far as he can see. A few office workers standing a bit farther away, wondering what the commotion is about. Wait, is that—

Till spots him. That kid. The kid that is standing at the very end of the line. Till remembers his handsome face, with big, shining eyes and a jaw cut from diamonds, and…

God, Till is reading way too many fanfictions. His mind has been recalibrated to think in fanfiction terms. 

Now, he just has to be patient. Till signs and hands out more cups—probably his thousandth by now—before the kid finally reaches the front of the queue. And just nice, too. Till holds the final cup in his hand. 

The kid, however, looks pale. He looks like he’s barely holding it together, his hands held in front of him, one squeezing the other. He can hardly lift his head when he reaches the front, staring at the ground even when Till’s shorter than he is. By half a head, Till thinks. The same height difference as between himself and the magistrate. 

“So, Y/N,” Till says. “Come to collect your coffee, have you?” 

The kid trembles. It’s rather hilarious watching a grown man—grown enough to wear an oxford and a pair of dress trousers, a lanyard dangling around his neck, announcing his name is Park Ivan for the whole world to see. And here Till thought he was a university student. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You wrote Object of My Desire, didn’t you?” Till says, stabbing an accusing finger at the man named Park Ivan.

At the guilty look on Ivan’s face, Till knows he’s got him on the ropes. Behind Ivan the fans are whispering, but Till can’t care less about what they’re saying. All that matters is the author of his life’s (current) greatest joy squirming in front of him like… like… a bug. Under a microscope. 

Till licks his lips, and he holds the cup of coffee out to Ivan. “Fantastic. I’ll see you after work, Ivan-ssi.”

Ivan’s face goes impossibly red. He stammers a few words of thanks, takes the cup, downs it in a single gulp, and he promptly faints on the spot. Literally. Till quite frankly watches him go completely limp and topple like a puppet with its strings cut.

Till grimaces. “Ooh, that’s gotta hurt.”

Dewey calls an ambulance.

*

Ivan wakes up in heaven. In what other plane of existence would he be in if he were to open his eyes to his idol’s face? His reason for living, the person whose films got him through the darkest moments of is life—

“Hey, you’re awake,” Till says, as he twirls his fidget spinner. It’s a stunning electric blue that blurs together when it goes fast. He places the spinner on the nightstand next to Ivan. 

Ivan blinks. He’s going to burn this image to the back of his pupils so that he’d forever have an imprint of Till being so up close to him, and the whitewashed hospital walls help. Then again, he’s in heaven, so theoretically, he could summon Till as and when, and also maybe fulfil whatever fantasies he’s had about—

“You okay? You’re not, like, concussed or anything?” Till asks, waving his hand in front of his face, and he holds up three fingers. “How many fingers do you see?” 

“Two,” Ivan tries. 

“He’s concussed,” Till concludes. “Damn. Now, I won’t even get to see how Object of My Desire ends.” 

Ivan blinks. Twice. Three times. He stares at Till, his jaw drops. This is not heaven after all. This is hell, where he’s forced to live for the rest of his measly existence in complete and utter shame. “You read it?”

“Yeah, I read it, alright. All fifty-two chapters of it.” 

A shiver runs down Ivan’s spine. This truly is hell. His life is over, because Till must have read every embarrassing moment, every erotic scene, every—God, fuck, Ivan’s screwed. He should just throw himself into the sea now and swim with the fishes, or he should move out of the country and take up a new identity. 

“Maybe I should get the doctor in here…” Till mutters, but Ivan’s arm shoots out, grabs his wrist. If he calls the doctor now, then Till’s going to leave, and Ivan wouldn’t be able to speak with him anymore. He may be here at his lowest, but at least he’s here with Till. 

“Wait, don’t. Don’t leave,” Ivan says, and he can feel his nose clogging up, his vision blurring with tears. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’m just a coward who hides behind the screen and imagines—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what? You’re not going to do what again?” Till all but bellows, and Ivan trembles, curling into himself. The tears flow freely down his cheeks, and he sniffles pathetically. How much deeper in this hole he’s digging for himself going to be? “Shit, why are you always crying?” 

“I’m sorry—”

“And stop apologising.” Till grabs a few tissues from the box on the nightstand, and he thrusts them at Ivan. Ivan swabs at his face, cleaning his cheeks of salty tears and his nose of mucus. 

The door swings open. Dewey strides through. “Are you okay, Till? I heard some shouting—”

He pauses, takes his time to drink in the sight before him. Conflict dances across his face, a blend of “What the fuck is going on,” “I wanna ask but I’m too afraid of the answer,” and “I just wanna go home, sleep my afternoon away, and not deal with whatever I’ve just stumbled into.” 

Ivan sniffs, staring down at his blanket the entire time Till explains the situation to his manager. He just wants to be home now, maybe delete all his fanfictions, including those that he’s written halfway and would never see the light of day. He’d beg for Till’s forgiveness and grovel at his feet if that’s what it takes for his idol to forgive him. 

“Unfortunately, he seems concussed,” Till says. “I’m not even sure he’d get the next chapter out by the deadline.” 

“Don’t pressure him, you ass,” Dewey says, smacking Till upside the head. Ivan thinks that he’s perhaps having an out-of-body experience, his soul having leapt into a hidden camera or something. Is this how Till acts off cameras? 

It just makes Ivan love him more, seeing a side of him that other fans would never know.

“So, I know you just woke up and are concussed, but we need to get down to business,” Till says, and he takes his seat next to Ivan again. Once more, he picks up his fidget spinner and begins to spin it. “I need something from you, Park Ivan. And yes, I’m older than you, so I don’t need to use honorifics.”

He knows my age! Ivan thinks. “You need me to delete that fanfic, shut down my account, and move somewhere where you’ll never see me again. Please don’t ban me from watching your films and fancams…” 

“Whoa,” Dewey whispers. “He’s down bad .”

“Look, I think you’re misunderstanding things here,” Till says with a wave of his free hand. “You’re saying it as if I don’t want you to write that fanfic. You’re saying it as if I don’t like reading the fanfic.” 

Ivan’s train of thought grinds to a halt. He stares at Till, then at Dewey, and then back at Till. “You… like reading it?” 

“Well, duh. Have you seen your writing? I’m super invested.” 

Dewey nods solemnly. “I can vouch for that. Please believe him.” 

“So, I’d really like it if you continued it,” Till says, and he places his fidget spinner back on the nightstand with a clack. “For at least another fifty chapters. I even left a comment.”

Till…? Left a…? Comment…? Since when? How did Ivan miss it? He’s the worst fan ever!

“I left it under TILLtheEnd. Did you not see it?”

“That’s you?” Ivan cries. 

“Yeah, that’s me, and you turned me down very rudely at that. So, about those fifty chapters…” 

Ivan fidgets with the hem of his blanket. He really doesn’t want to say no to his idol, but at the same time, the story is due to end. He’s already made the announcement, and he can’t very well come up with content for another fifty chapters. “I… I don’t think I’d be able to do it.”

Till frowns. “What? Why not?” 

“Because I’ve already planned the story out and it’s supposed to end with the fifty-third. I mean, there’s a bonus chapter too, but… you know.” Ivan tugs at a loose string at the hem of his blanket. “B-But I’m going to start writing another fanfic soon, so after this one’s concluded, you can…” 

Till’s frown deepens. Dewey punches him in the back. With that, Till scratches his head, and he sighs, “Fine. It’s not like I can force you to do something you don’t want to. But you said you were coming up with another work?” 

Ivan nods vigorously, so hard that he thought his head would come off. But he doesn’t want Till to be mad at him. It’s still hard—no, not just hard, it’s impossible —to wrap his head around the fact that Till’s read his fanfiction. A fanfiction that he started on a whim and didn’t expect to gain much traction. But the thought of his idol, the legitimate Till, wishing to read more of what he wrote puts a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Not only that, but Till is interested in his next piece of work? Even though it’s a fanfiction about… about him? 

“Yeah,” Ivan says. “I mean, I have a premise, but I don’t have a plot yet.” 

“What sort of story is it going to be?” 

“Oh, one where… where…” Ivan can’t stop the blush creeping up his cheeks. He covers his face with his hands, and he glances away.

“Where what?” Till prompts.

“Where a fan meets his idol.” 

Till barks out a laugh, setting Ivan’s heart aflutter. It’s not the first time he’s seen or heard Till laugh, but there’s something different about this one. It sounds more unrestrained, more liberated. More genuine. It makes Ivan greedy for more. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah, but I haven’t had any inspiration so far. It’s supposed to be a 5+1 sort of story. I’m not sure—”

“No inspiration? You’ve gotta be joking.” Till reaches over and pats Ivan’s shoulder. “I’m right here in the flesh, aren’t I?” 

Ivan’s heart thumps so hard and so fast, his stomach squeezing so hard he thought he’d throw up. Till is touching me, oh my God, Till is touching my shoulder and I’m gonna steal this hospital gown and never gonna wash it again— “Y-Yeah?” 

“And you said it was a, what? Five plus one fanfic?” Till says. “So, that means six dates?” 

Six dates? Six ?

Ivan isn’t sure what happened upon hearing that, but in hindsight, he probably fainted again. 

*

“Are you sure about this, Till?” Dewey asks, as he starts the van. 

“Yeah, it’s gonna be fine. We’ll just go to places with fewer people.” 

The van rumbles to life, and they turn out of the hospital’s parking lot. They left after informing Ivan’s listed family—a woman named Sua—about his admission. After all, Till’s a busy man and he has places to be. Namely, lounging around at home in nothing but a bathrobe, and watching K-dramas and playing video games till the sun rises. He has one last shoot with Luka, before he can say bye-bye to this drama forever and focus on his next variety show.

“No, like, you’re going to give him the wrong idea,” Dewey says. “It’s about the ethics of the situation. You’re taking advantage of a fan’s love for you, you know?”

“Well then, you can draft a contract or something,” Till says, waving flippantly at him. “We’ll break things off after the six dates, don’t catch feelings, and stuff like that.” 

“Don’t… what? Catch feelings? What the hell does that mean?” 

“You’re old, hyung, you’re old .”

“Shut up, I don’t need that kinda lip from you. But seriously, you’re gonna leave this guy heartbroken.”

“It’s for the sake of the fanfic, hyung. I’m just offering to help him along. He knows it’s fake, I know it’s fake. Nothing bad could possibly happen.” 

Dewey snorts. “Famous last words. You’ve watched enough movies that if someone says something like that, only bad stuff is going to happen from here on out.” 

“Didn’t peg you for the superstitious type.”

“This isn’t superstition. It’s being practical and realistic.” 

Their bickering continues for the rest of the trip back to Till’s place. Till left Dewey’s number with the woman, telling her to text him when the kid wakes up. Now that Till thinks about it, it’s cute how the kid wrote himself as a charming and suave magistrate, even though he’d dissolve into a puddle of tears if Till even so much as asked him a question. With the aid of the fanfiction’s vivid description, Till can totally see them doing it too. He wonders how accurately the scene was written, whether the kid would react like how he portrayed the magistrate in the fanfiction.

It makes Till curious. 

“I can hear you giggling evilly,” Dewey mutters, as he pulls into the parking lot of Till’s condominium. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop it, because it’s probably nothing good.” 

“How’d you know that?” 

“Because I’ve known you for seven years longer than I’ve known my boyfriend.” 

“Why is your boyfriend the benchmark? Excuse you, I am the benchmark.” 

“Get out before I make you,” Dewey demands, and Till is awash with a sense of déjà vu. The moment Till steps off, the van speeds off, and Till has half a mind to hurl vulgarities at his careless manager. What if Till got hurt? That’s not just his livelihood down the drain but also Dewey’s.

In any case, it’s time for some shut-eye before a marathon of shoots tomorrow.

Chapter Text

“So, what happened?” Sua asks, as soon as Ivan wakes up the second time. He could not mask his disappointment at the realisation that Till left whilst he was out. Ivan bites the insides of his cheeks, not quite sure where to begin.

After establishing the starting point, Ivan begins rattling. Nothing can slow him down, much less stop the flood of words streaming from his mouth. The only person on Earth who can understand him is Sua, who has known him her entire life. She listens attentively, more so than any other time she’s ever listened to him. Ivan thinks the fact that they are in a hospital helps.

Sua sighs, and she rests her chin on her hand. “Why’d you even drink the coffee?” 

“Because he knows,” Ivan whispers. “He read my fanfic.” 

“He knew even back then?” 

“Yeah, and I don’t know how he did,” Ivan mumbles, fidgeting restlessly. 

“And you stupidly confirmed his suspicions?” 

“Well, he looked very sure of himself!” 

“Hmm, and to think that the oh, so majestic Till-hyung reads fanfiction of himself. Doesn’t he feel weirded out?” 

Ivan sniffles. “I don’t know. I… I didn’t think that… of all people who would read it… And he commented on it too! I thought he was just another reader.” 

“So, you’re really going on these six dates with him?” Sua asks. “How much compensation did he offer?”

“N-Nothing.” 

“Nothing? Ivan, you are doing a service for this man. You should be getting paid! You’re not obligated to write the fanfic about him!” 

Ivan flushes. “But going on the dates is more than enough compensation, then. How many people can say that they’ve gone on a date with their celebrity crush? Much less six?” 

Sua hums. “Okay, I get your point. But still. He’s playing you like a fiddle, Ivan. You should stay away from people like him.” 

“It’ll just be six dates. After that, we’ll go back to… being just actor and fan, I guess.” 

The hospital room falls silent, aside from the whirr of the air conditioning. Just thinking about the dates has Ivan’s stomach in a twist again. They haven’t even ironed out the details of this trade yet, and Till’s up and disappeared. Is Ivan supposed to go look for him at ALNST Entertainment? 

“Fine, if you’ve made up your mind, the man that called me over left his number with me. You’re supposed to—”

“What’s the number?” Ivan asks, grasping Sua’s wrist. “And it isn’t Till-hyung’s, right?”

“Nope. It’s that burly guy he’s with. White hair, the one with the muscles. Offered to pay the hospital bills, which, obviously, I took him up on—"

“Till-hyung’s pretty muscular too.” 

“Please, compared to that guy, your Till-hyung’s thin as sticks.” 

“No, he’s not.” 

“Look, do you want his number, or not?” 

Two minutes later, Ivan stares at his cracked phone screen with Till’s manager’s number staring back at him. It’s certainly not Till’s number, but it’s one step closer. Visiting hours is soon over, and Sua leaves for the night, telling him to call if he needs anything. Even as the nurse switches the light off in the ward, Ivan finds himself continuing to stare at his phone. 

Even if it’s just to his manager, to text this number is a daunting task. What should Ivan say? What if whatever just occurred was a fever dream, and his mind blocked out Till shouting and screaming at him for defaming his image through his fanfiction. God, if that’s what actually happened then Ivan is glad that his mind spun that story.

Six dates with Till. It’s now or never.

Ivan texts the number Sua gave him, slams his phone down on the nightstand, turns on his side, and he shuts his eyes. Please sleep, please sleep, please sleep , he chants wordlessly to himself, hoping to doze off before he hears a peep from his phone. 

One minute after Ivan falls into a deep slumber, his phone dings with a new message.

*

“Good news. Well, good news for you and less so for me, considering I’m going to be the one arranging your dates around your busy schedule,” Dewey says, his face large on Till’s phone as they video call, “but he has agreed to the six dates.” 

“Brilliant. Is the contract ready?” 

“Drafting it now. Do you think this sort of thing appears out of thin air? Of course, you do. You’re a celebrity with no heart for little worker ants like us.” 

“Touche.” 

“And which part of whatever I just said are you agreeing with?” 

Till deigns to answer. “So, when’s the first date?” 

“Chill, bro. He just said he’s gonna do it, but I haven’t received a reply from him. I think he fell asleep.” 

“Oh, right. He is concussed. But at least he’s lucid enough to cry. A lot.” 

“Don’t you have, like, a thing for crybabies or something?”

Till snorts. “That’s only during sex when it’s so good that they cry. It’s called dacryphilia.”

“I did not need to know that.” 

“Remain uncultured, then, you swine.” 

“Right, you need to learn some manners, young man.”

“You sound like you’re way older than me.” 

Dewey sighs. “I don’t get why I’m still talking to you. You get on my nerves every single damn time.”

“That’s why we get along so well with each other.” Till blows him a kiss, and Dewey gags. In the background, Till hears Isaac’s muffled voice calling for his boyfriend. “Bye!”

With that, Till hangs up. He lies down on his sofa, his spread of cheese and wine before him as he checks his phone for fanfiction updates. He frowns when there aren’t any. Of course, what did he expect? He’s the one who put that kid in the hospi—no, that kid is the one who put himself in the hospital. Till did nothing but offer him a cup of coffee. And ask him about his work. Hmm, maybe Till would be mortified if he acted in a parody of an adult video and was confronted by the person he parodied as. 

Hmm. 

He should have given the kid his number. Because Till can call him and tease him or something. It would be worth quite a bit to hear his cute reactions.

He reminds himself to get it from Dewey next time, his self-preservation instincts be damned.

*

Ivan is discharged the next morning. After settling the paperwork and waiting for Sua to drive her car from the hospital’s parking lot to the pick-up point, Ivan answers his messages. His phone bursts with messages from his team members, some wishing him well, his irritable boss ranting about how much work Ivan’s left him with. Work that was his to begin with. Ivan doesn’t even want to respond to them. 

What he does want to respond to, Ivan sees when Sua pulls up to the kerb. Ivan’s jaw drops, staring at his phone, as Sua winds down her window.

“Oi, hurry up,” Sua says. 

Ivan drops into the seat next to her, and as soon as the door shuts with a click, Sua drives off. Ivan can’t stop looking at his phone, at the invitation to ALNST to sign a damn contract . A contract for six dates. Needless to say, Ivan is conflicted about the whole thing. But then again, it’s only fair to Till. After all, he’s a celebrity, and Ivan’s just a random person on the street, even though he may be a fan. That contract is probably meant to keep Ivan from engaging in unscrupulous acts, like selling Till’s phone number or something.

“So, you feeling better?” Sua asks.

Ivan nods dejectedly. 

“You don’t look like you’re feeling better.” 

“Till-hyung has agreed to the six dates.” 

“Of course, he would, that pervert.” 

“He’s not a pervert. Don’t call him that.”

“Whoever reads erotica of themselves and a fan is most definitely a pervert.” 

Ivan doesn’t know what to make of that . On the one hand, he can’t say that Sua’s completely wrong…  

“He just wants to get into your pants,” Sua says. “He’s making use of his celebrity status to get you to comply, Ivan. He’s got absolutely no morals.”

The thought of Till getting into his pants is—

“Whatever you are thinking, no. Bad Ivan. Stop it. God, why am I still taking care of you at this age?”

“Because I’ll treat you to clam soup whenever you do me a favour.” 

“Hell yeah, let’s get that clam soup.” 

*

A day later, on a serene Sunday morning, Till sits in a meeting room with his manager. Dewey looks like he’s less anxious and more dreading whatever’s coming to pass in the next few minutes. He wears a constipated expression as he fiddles with the corner of the page of the contract. 

“You just want to fuck and dump him,” Dewey says after the longest bout of silence.  

Till snaps his fingers. “Right.”

“You’re not even denying it.” 

“I just wanna see if it’s like the fanfic. I mean, the magistrate is literally based off himself. There are six dates. It’s bound to happen at some point.” 

“You are incorrigible. I hope he stays far away from you and gets a restraining order on you.” 

Till pouts. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“Anyway, what are you really hoping to get out of this deal?” Dewey mutters, bowing his head so low his forehead almost touches the edge of the table. 

“Um… something fun to spice up my life? Please, I just wanna see what the author behind my favourite fic is like. It’s just like meeting your idol, you know.” 

“I’m sure he thinks the same.” 

“Plus, I really want him to write another fic. It’ll be great.” 

Dewey snorts. He checks the watch on his wrist. “Well, it’s almost time. He ought to be here soon.” 

“Imagine waking up early on a Sunday,” Till mutters, as Dewey stands. “You’re gonna go get him?”

“Yeah, it’s not like he has a keycard or anything.” 

Till hums, waves dismissively at him. Dewey flashes him the middle finger, and Till just chuckles.

*

ALNST must be the most daunting building that Ivan has ever stood in front of, which is saying a lot considering he has to enter his own office building every weekday. It stands tall, taller than a skyscraper has any right to be, towering over the other buildings in its vicinity. Its sleek body glitters in the shimmering rays of the sun. Somewhere in this building, Ivan is supposed to meet Till to sign a contract. Meet Till in his natural habitat.

All around him are office workers rushing to work, a few crew members piling equipment into a van, some rather fashionable people milling about the entrance to a separate building just several storeys high. Ivan grips his phone so tightly that the poor device could snap at any moment.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, places one hand over his heart in an attempt to calm it. He takes another deep breath, praying that he doesn’t get a panic attack, and he takes his first step through the automatic sliding doors of ALNST.

The inside of the company is less glamorous than he thought. It looks like a regular office building, albeit with a café in one corner, a lounge in another, and at least eight lifts past the security gantry. There are more office workers than artistes than Ivan imagined.

Ivan chews on his lip, wondering whether he would make a better impression if he bought Till some coffee. He knows that Till takes his coffee all black, no hint of sweetness whatsoever. Although the smell would be overpowering, and Ivan isn’t sure that he won’t topple over again from the nausea, he could do this one little thing for Till, at least.

“Are you alright?” 

Ivan whirls on his heels to find someone gliding past him. He’s shorter than Ivan, his head covered in wavy blond locks, the same colour as his long lashes. He dresses entirely in white, his suit clinging to his body. He holds his hands behind him, peering up at him with a smile, and Ivan finds himself staring down at top actor Luka. 

Ivan flushes, because that is the only thing he can do in the presence of someone with such a radiant glow and a halo atop his head. Luka, who looks like an emissary of heaven who can do no wrong. Objectively, that is. Till is still Ivan’s one and only angel.

“You look lost,” Luka says. “First day?” 

“N-No, I… Just… I’m looking for…” Ivan stutters, his words failing him. 

“You’re a fan, then? Whose? Clearly not mine, or you would be asking for my autograph already.” 

Ivan shakes his head, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment. “I… I enjoy your movies as well, Luka-ssi. I just…” 

“There you are!” 

Ivan spots Dewey emerging from the gantries leading to the lift lobby, and relief washes over him. Luka hums. “Guess you’re here to see Till, hmm?” 

“Yeah, he’s with Till,” Dewey says. “I’ve come to collect him.” 

“Oh, so he’s not a fan?” Luka bows his head. “Sorry ’bout that. Thought you were one of those stalker fans, you know. Well, I’ll be heading off now, Have fun with Till.” 

Just as gracefully as he floated over, Luka strides to an unmarked door next to the café. According to a big red sign affixed to it, unauthorised personnel are barred from entry. Dewey sighs, and shoves something in Ivan’s face: a lanyard carrying a visitor’s pass. “Okay, well, Till’s waiting for us at the conference room. It’s this way.” 

Ivan loops the lanyard around his neck, and he follows Dewey through the gantry. He clenches his grip around the strap of his messenger bag as the lift doors open and they step in. Oh, he must be the luckiest fan in the world. Through a twist of fate—the type of twist that’s so knotted it’s impossible to tell where it begins and ends—he’s gained access to the ALNST building. Who knew that his writing fanfiction could be so useful? 

This is his chance to see what goes on in the heart of the company that produces award-winning blockbusters. 

*

A dating contract. That’s what’s going on in Meeting Room 3. 

As much as the contract is written to protect Till—because he still doesn’t know Ivan all that well, and Ivan could be a crazy fan for all Till knows—Dewey’s drafted it in a way such that it’s probably better for Ivan. That is to say, that Till is not allowed to impose any of his weird ideas on the, possibly, sweet and innocent kid. 

“Trust me,” Dewey says, when he takes Ivan through that part of the contract. “You’ll need it.” 

Till snorts. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Ivan merely blushes. Till thinks that the kid really ought to have a better sense of self-preservation. 

“Right, so if you’re okay with all that, I’m gonna need you to sign here,” Dewey says, gesturing to the line at the very bottom, next to the one that bears Till’s signature. “So, if he ever inappropriately comes on to you, you can sue him. Not us. Him.” 

Till shrugs.

“I-It’s okay. I don’t think I will,” Ivan says.

Better sense of self-preservation , Till’s brain reminds him. He turns to Ivan, and he winks. He swears that Ivan swooned right there and then, as dazed as he looks. “So, shall we go on our first date today?” 

Ivan blinks. “What?” 

“Our first date. You know, of the six dates?”

“R-Right! Yes! Yes, I… But… I’m not prepared—”

“And the kid is concussed,” Dewey reminds him. “Stop teasing him. Ivan-ssi, don’t be afraid to report him to the authorities if he gets too pushy.” 

There are sparkles in Ivan’s eyes when he says, “I’m sure he won’t.” 

“Great,” Till says. “Okay, so just hit Dewey up when you’re done planning or whatever. He’ll let you know my schedule, and we can arrange for the first date. Don’t take too long now, and don’t forget about the last two chapters.” 

Ivan salutes Till. “Yes, sir!” 

Till smirks. He’s going to have a lot of fun with this man. He can feel it. “Right, then, hyung, could you settle the rest of the process with him? I’ll be going first. See you, Ivan-ah.” 

At that, Till stands and spins on his heels, turning to leave. If he stayed for a second longer, he might have noticed Ivan nearly sinking into a pile of goo. Anyone would have after their idol literally promised to date them, after all.

*

First date, first date, first date, is the only thought going through Ivan’s mind as he sits at his desk all day, penning down both the last second chapter of Object of My Desire and ideas for a first date with Till. He’s dreamed up a few ideas in the past, back before he went to that fanmeet, when he’s planned for the end of his current work. He thought of the regular, cliché ideas: an amusement park, the beach, the mountains, the movies, a park, walking along the Han River… 

Ah, so many possibilities. Ivan is limited to only six dates, and he has no idea which ones he should choose. Initially, he’d be fine with any of the ideas he put down on paper, but now that he’s actually going on those dates, he wants to do this properly. Actually consider how much Till would enjoy each activity.

Naturally, because fiction is so very different from real life. 

He’s watched several variety shows that Till participated in, as well as many behind-the-scenes videos. He likes water activities in general, chilling with a cocktail in his personal pool, shooting water guns at his fellow co-stars, or just splashing about in the shallow end of the sea like what he did with Luka this morning. Perhaps Ivan could suggest harvesting oysters… as a third or fourth date. Who the hell digs for oysters on the first date, unless they’re really into oysters?

Perhaps walking along the Han River is the best option. They could go somewhere nearby for a meal before that. Somewhere quiet, because Till is a celebrity and they can’t afford to be recognised. Ivan wonders whether he’d be required to disguise himself too. There was nothing in the contract that suggested he needed to.

Ivan picks up his phone, and he messages Dewey. The reply is immediate.

Manager-ssi: this is till. i stole hyungs phone. maybe I’ll consider ur proposal after u publish the next chapter

For the next three hours, Ivan sits unmoving at his desk, aside from his fingers darting furtively across his keyboard.

Chapter Text

“What the hell, Till!” Dewey cries as he stares down at his phone. 

It’s a sunny Monday morning, and Till’s seated in the van, ready to head off to his next filming location. His schedule is sparse and easy today—starting off with him and Luka’s photoshoot for their promotional material and merchandise. Then, he’d need to read through the new scripts dropped into Dewey’s inbox to choose his next project. After that, he finishes off his day with a short meeting with the producer of the variety show Rooming Together. 

“When did you send this message?” Dewey shoves his phone in Till’s face.

“Last night at the boring party. You just realised it?” 

“Please, I was handling all the scripts coming my way for your reading. Did you think that you only ever received three scripts at any one time?” 

“Of course not. I’m more popular than that.” 

Dewey sighs defeatedly. He shoves his phone into his pocket, and he starts the engine. “Well, whatever. What’s done is done. At least you introduced yourself instead of attributing that atrocious message to my name.” 

Till grins. “Ooh, you’re giving me ideas.” 

“I don’t like the look on your face one bit. Wait, what else did he say?” 

“Well, he said he wanted to eat dinner and walk along the Han River for the first date. Pretty standard, if you ask me. You’d think an author would have more creativity.” 

“Yeah, well, I’d like to see you write a script too,” Dewey says, as the van joins the main road. Their filming location is not far—it’s at the quiet beach that they went to when Till filmed his final scene for that movie. “I’d probably laugh my ass off. Besides, you can’t get too wild on your first date, I feel.” 

“What did you two do on your first date?” 

“Us? Well, Isaac invited me to this motorcross race he was participating in. I know jack shit about motorcycles.” 

Till laughs. “Yeah, I remember the first time you showed up to work on the back of Isaac-hyung’s motorbike.” 

Dewey was understandably pale, swearing up and down, and declaring that he’d never ride a motorcycle ever again. That said, he does arrive via motorcycle sometimes. He’s gotten so used to it that he hops off the vehicle like he’s alighting from the back of a horse. All confident and suave, with the sort of charisma that turns the heads of the women around them. Too bad Dewey is already attached.

Till isn’t sure he’d go out of his way to that extent for anyone. That’s partly why he probably won’t ever get a partner. Sure, he can play the role of a loving boyfriend on screen, but that selfless personality is nothing more than a front. In essence, Till lives for himself, not for others.

Even for these six dates that he’s agreed to, it’s just another movie, another drama, another work of fiction. And in every piece of fiction, all Till needs to do is to act.

*

Manager-ssi: Till has agreed to the first date idea.

Manager-ssi: There is a good seafood place near the river. We’ll meet there. I’ll send you the location closer to the date.

Manager-ssi: Not to worry about the price. Till will bear the full cost.

Manager-ssi: We can’t let a regular office worker pay for something so expensive :P

Ivan flushes, clutching his phone to his chest as he lies in bed, exhausted after a long day at work. He wonders what sort of restaurant they have in mind. Being a celebrity, there is no doubt that Till would be accustomed to eating culinary delights like high-grade sashimi, lobster, and steak. Ivan, on the other hand, is a habitual consumer of convenience store triangle kimbap and frozen soondae. 

What if he doesn’t like the food because of his commoner taste buds? What if he and Till can’t get along personality-wise, and the conversation turns awkward? So many things could go wrong, and it’s making Ivan worry so much that he’s feeling sick in the stomach. If Till already gets a bad impression of him on the first date, then how would the next six dates progress? They’ve already signed a contract and everything.

Ivan buries his face in his pillow. Why, oh why did he ever think that this would be a good idea? The thought of Till resenting him leaves bitterness on his tongue, spreading down to his chest. Even if Till loathed him, shouted at him, would Ivan be able to hate him? Probably not. The fault likely lies with Ivan, of course. Till is perfect, so how could he do any wrong? 

Ivan peers over at the posters on his wall, and a giddy ecstasy replaces the sour notes in his thoughts. Even if this first date may be a disaster, Ivan still aims to make the most out of it. Sitting across from Till, admiring his features in the glow of the light, sharing a conversation like a friend… no, like a date. 

Ivan’s smiling so much his cheeks hurt. He can’t stop, though, as he runs through his fantasies over and over in his mind. Strolling through a quiet forest, buying and snapping their love lock tight atop Namsan Tower, or even taking Till to visit his childhood residence out in the countryside, where they can pick strawberries and tend to the animals. 

Ah, the possibilities for happiness are endless. 

*

“So, fess up,” Luka slurs, as he shares a glass of wine with Till, gazing out at the starlit sky in the terrace of Till’s house. Till glances at him quizzically, and the tipsy Luka—he really can’t hold his liquor well—stabs a finger at him, “What’s up with you and that kid?” 

“What kid?” 

“The one with the pretty hair and the pretty eyes.” 

“The what? You mean Ivan?” 

“Oh, is that his name? That’s a pretty name. As pretty as the man himself. He could be a celebrity.” 

Till frowns. Thinks of the man trembling all over whenever Till looks his way. “Nah, he wouldn’t last a second.” 

“Yeah, he seemed too timid. But courage can be cultivated,” Luka mutters. He pours himself another glass, the grape-coloured liquid streaming gracefully into the glass. “So... what were you meeting him for? You haven’t told me yet.” 

“I don’t need to tell you every aspect of my life.” 

“Ouch, that’s cold. We’ve been friends for, like, seven years now?” 

“If you think about it, that’s not very long.” 

“That’s slightly less than a quarter of your life.” 

Till sighs. For some inexplicable reason, he doesn’t want to tell Luka about Ivan. After all, Ivan’s his fan. Not Luka’s. Till’s not one to share. “Will you stop asking if I said that that kid is a contractor?” 

“Contractor? Like, for your house?” 

“Mm. He’s just performing a service for me.” 

“And he has to go all the way to your company to do that?” 

“You know I don’t sign contracts without Dewey-hyung around.” 

Luka facepalms, and he downs his third glass of wine. He moves to pour himself another, but Till wrenches the bottle away from him. Luka just sits back down against his chair, sullen. He’s not the type to get violent or pushy when he’s drunk. He just gets… sad.

“Anyway, I’m not giving him to you. No way, nuh-uh,” Till says, wagging a finger in front of Luka’s face. “So, you can lose all interest you ever had in him.” 

Luka pouts. “Hmm. Now, you’re just making me more curious.” 

“Oh, fuck off.” 

“You’re going on that variety show, right?” Luka says. “Rooming Together.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Who’s it with?” 

“Hyuna. You know, winner of Best Actress Award two years in a row?” 

Luka huffs, his face turning impossibly red, redder than before. “Lucky.”

“Damn, maybe we should have swapped places. I’m not too thrilled about going on this show either.”  

“Can’t. I’m overseas for a shoot. I’ll be watching, though, so don’t you dare think about it.”

It’s a little known fact—only Till and Luka’s manager is aware of—that Luka has a giant crush on Hyuna. That’s because Luka can be pretty tight-lipped when it comes to things like this, even when he’s drunk. 

“Well, as long as you promise not to lay a hand on my man, I’ll promise not to touch your woman,” Till says, holding out a pinkie.

Luka snorts, but he curls his pinkie around Till’s anyway. “I thought he was just your contractor.” 

“Meh. A person can have more than one label,” Till says, and he takes another swig of his wine.

*

Three days later, at 7 p.m. sharp, Ivan finds himself standing outside the restaurant that Dewey sent him. From the exterior alone, it looks elegant, sophisticated, not the type of restaurant that Ivan would ever come to. One dish is probably worth at least a month’s worth of his salary.

He fidgets with his phone, and he’s already beginning to sweat in a knitted vest and a button-down in this weather. Perhaps he should have brought a portable fan. But that would look stupid, and he’s not going to look stupid in front of his idol. 

Speak of the devil. A car pulls up to the side of the road. Emerging from the car, wearing a beanie and a mask that does not gel with the rest of his suit, is none other than Till. As usual, he pulls off each and every one of his outfits effortlessly, as simple as they may be. For some reason, Ivan feels somewhat underdressed. Maybe he should have gone with Sua and picked out a suit. Or he should have styled his hair up. Or maybe—

“There you are,” Till says, his voice slightly muffled. “Let’s go in, shall we?”

“Yes!” Ivan cries, almost too forcefully. “Let’s go!”

Once through the automatic doors, Till removes his ragtag disguise, which he stuffs into the briefcase he brought. He leads the way into the stunning establishment, circling the massive and intricate golden statue of a fish shimmering in the centre of the foyer. The restaurant, apparently, is farther in—the rest of the building serves as a high-end hotel, if the reception counter is any indication. 

Ivan doesn’t know where to look as he follows Till farther in. The polished floors shine, and the chandeliers hanging overhead glitter. The service staff welcome Till into the restaurant, offering up their brightest smiles and their friendliest countenances. Ivan trails behind Till like a lost puppy, his attention everywhere at once, flitting from one shiny thing to the next. He only comes to when they are seated across from each other at a table that overlooks the Han River. 

“Do you prefer sashimi, or do you like cooked foods?” Till asks. 

“U-Uh… either one. I don’t really have a preference. Which one is cheaper?” 

Till raises a brow. “Didn’t Dewey-hyung tell you? You don’t have to worry about the cost. I’ll be paying for everything.” 

“But I’d still feel bad if you paid for something expensive. I mean, just spending time with you here like this is enough for me.”

Till sighs. “You really shouldn’t be saying things like that. I’m still just another human being, Ivan. I want to make sure you’re having a good time too.” 

Ivan flushes, hopes it doesn’t show on his face. But the smirk on Till’s face only serves to fuel the burn. “U-Um… I prefer sashimi.” 

“There. That’s better.” Till waves the waiter over and places their order, each dish rolling off his tongue smoothly, the names of fishes and other crustaceans and bivalves that Ivan has never even heard of in his life. At the conclusion of his order, Till turns back to Ivan and asks, “Sake okay for you?” 

“Um, yeah, sure.” 

Till once more speaks in a language that sounds foreign yet familiar at the same time. Ivan has no idea what sake he ordered—he has never touched anything aside from cheap beer bought at the convenience store. How different would sake at such a high-end restaurant taste compared to that? Heavenly, probably.

The waiter strides off with their order, leaving Ivan and Till alone. 

“Is this how you envisioned your first date to be?” Till asks. 

“U-Um… well, something like this would happen at some point,” Ivan says, and he tries his darnedest not to fidget with the hem of the tablecloth. 

“A lot of fanfiction do depict a scene where the main couple eats at a fancy place. A lot of dramas too,” Till says. “I suppose yours would be no different.” 

“Uh, yes, well… I’m sorry it’s going to be a little cliché…” 

“Clichés are no problem,” Till says. “Clichés are clichés for a reason. People love them, which is why they proliferated in media. What matters is how you write that cliché in your own style, in your own way.” 

Ivan blinks. “O-Oh.” 

“Was that your first work?” 

“‘That?’” 

“Object of My Desire.” 

“Oh-Oh! Yes! That’s my first work.” 

Till chuckles. Ivan’s ears burn hotly. He should just shrivel up, bury himself in a hole, and never come back out. How can one laugh sound so much like the titter of an angel? If Ivan squints, he can probably see the white, fluffy wings sprouted from his back. “Is that so? Maybe you’ll eventually write a script that I’ll act in one day.” 

Ivan perks up. The thought is certainly appealing. Bordering on mouthwatering, even. Already, his work features Till as a character, written with him specifically in mind. He tries to imagine Till in the various scenes in Object of My Desire, as the cool and collected slave who tended to his magistrate’s whims—

“What are you thinking about?” Till asks, and Ivan is instantly snapped out of his fantasies. 

“Nothing! Nothing at all!” 

“Jeez, you don’t have to shout everything, you know.”

Ivan whimpers. “I’m sorry.” 

“God, you’re so cute.” Till reaches over and pats his head. Ivan lets his hair be ruffled, hoping that Till doesn’t realise he’s burning up on both the inside and outside just because of that one compliment, and the fact that Till’s fingers are in his hair, tousling it. What kind of fan wouldn’t blush at their celebrity treating them so familiarly.

“Oh, sorry, do you not like your hair touched?” Till asks, as he withdraws his arm. Ivan almost keens at the loss of contact. 

“No, it’s not that,” Ivan mumbles, his words caught in his constricted throat. He’s aware that he looks constipated, with his eyes screwed shut and his entire body tensed, but it’s a small price to pay when the other more dire costs involve him either sighing in satisfaction or, God forbid, moaning .

“Ah, that’s good. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

You wouldn’t in a thousand years , Ivan wants to say, but Till expressed discomfort about such lines, so he swallows it down. Instead, he forces a smile, and he says, “Don’t worry, I’m not uncomfortable.” 

Their sake comes, as does their appetiser. They tuck into the shrimp salad, the Sakura dressing adding a light touch of sweetness to the otherwise tangy shrimp and greens. Then, comes the sashimi platters, each featuring a delectable spread of raw fish slices, including fatty bluefin tuna, octopus, salmon, and more. Ivan bites into tender flesh, revelling in the freshness of the fish, savouring each mouthful. 

He's never going to be able to eat here again, so he might as well get his fill while he can. 

It’s when he’s halfway through the first platter that he realises that Till is barely eating. Instead, he’s nursing his cup of sake, the beverage swirling with each twirl of his wrist. 

“Are you not hungry?” Ivan asks. 

“Oh, no, I got a bit distracted,” Till says. He pointedly picks a slice of swordfish, and he devours it in one gulp. “See? I’m eating.” 

“You should eat more,” Ivan says, grabbing pieces of other pieces of sashimi—prawn, scallop, ark shell, salmon, and yellowtail—and placing them on Till’s plate. “You’re probably really busy, so you need to keep your energy up.” 

Till raises a brow. “I appreciate the thought, but… I don’t take yellowtail.” 

It’s time Ivan gets a shovel and starts digging his own grave. But he also makes a mental note of Till’s preferences.

“But that’s fine. We can call it even,” Till says. “You like yellowtail, don’t you? The yellowtail on your side of the plate is all gone.” 

“Yes, I… I just find everything good,” Ivan says. “It’s not every day I get to eat at a place like this.”  

“Then, you should eat more. Besides, it’s more fun watching you eat.”

The conversation soon shifts to other topics. Till asks about Ivan’s life, about his work at the office, about his creative process, and the inspiration for Object of My Desire. Ivan can hardly talk about it without blushing madly, and Till seems to like embarrassing him by reciting more memorable lines from the fanfiction. 

“Please stop, it’s embarrassing,” Ivan whines. 

“Why? I mean, you wrote it.”

“Wouldn’t you find it embarrassing if I recited lines you said?” 

“Oh, please, I’ve said enough cheesy stuff that nothing you say could ever faze me.” 

Ivan peers up at him, a devious spark in his eyes. “‘In this sea of stars, you shine the brightest.’”

“‘And in this bowl of spaghetti, you are the longest noodle.’”

It takes a good second before the two of them burst into raucous laughter. This was one of the funniest lines that Till had to say when he acted a romantic comedy, an exchange that spread uncontrollably across the Internet, in part made popular because of Till’s fame. Spaghetti became the nation’s favourite food for the next three months.

Awkward as it may be at first, their conversation gradually became more natural. No longer are Ivan’s words stunted and stilted, and neither is he overly anxious about his every minute movement. Till too curses more, for one, the type of image that one really shouldn’t be showing to a fan. They walk well into the evening, even after they have cleaned their plate of all fish and their bowls of all dessert.

“How did you find that?” Till asks. 

“Delicious.” 

“Great. That’s good to hear. Come on, we have one more thing on your agenda, right?” 

Ivan springs to his feet, and he follows Till out to the counter to pay. Till, perhaps in his own kind way, purposefully stands before the register and shields Ivan from seeing the total amount. Ivan did try to peer over his shoulder, but Till must have had eyes on the back of his head to move in tandem with Ivan.

In the end, Ivan never finds out how much it cost, not after Till pulls out his platinum card and pays for it in full.

The night air is chilly, despite the fact that it is in the midst of summer. A few people are out on the streets. Cheery music floats from the various diners and stores lining the street. Their destination, the Han River, is only a few blocks away.

“Right, sorry about this,” Till says, as he slips his beanie and mask back on. “Can’t have rabid fans recognising me, you know.”

“Don’t worry about it. I understand.” 

Till beams, his grin obvious even under that mask. “Well, shall we go?”

Chapter Text

The Han River is certainly different when one views it with someone else. Oftentimes, Ivan came out here to think, or to sober up, after drinking with his colleagues. Once, Sua found him passed out here, sleeping with his back to the railing and his long legs stretched across the length of the walkway like a homeless man. She had to lug him home and make him hangover soup. Ivan repaid that favour by promising to be her servant, waiting on her hand and foot, for the entire weekend.

“So, here we are,” Till says, his hair mussed by the wind. “Han River.” 

“Yeah. You shot a movie here before, right?” 

“Hmm? Yeah. It was a monster show. Something about pollution causing mutations in fish and resulting in a huge monster that swallowed people whole. I can’t really remember the details.” 

“It was Anglerfish,” Ivan says. “And… yeah, the movie was as you described. You played the sultry, teenage boy, Jung Baekwon.” 

“Hmm… yeah, I vaguely remember something like that. Vaguely, though.”

“Maybe we should rewatch your movies again. I think that’ll be fun.” 

Till smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Is that our second date?” 

“I’ll have to think about it. I have a lot of ideas. Like, like, going to Lotte World. Or maybe heading down to a farm and doing some strawberry picking. Or, or…” 

“We have five more dates. You don’t have to rush.” 

The wind whistles in their ears. Till leans against the railing, staring out at the river, the broad channel where water flows peacefully through the city of Seoul. The hub of the city illuminates the night sky, proof of a city that never sleeps. There’s something mystifying about standing here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, listening to the water splash against the riverbanks underfoot, the vague rumble of vehicles as they trundle across the bridge.

“This is nice,” Ivan remarks.

“It is,” Till agrees. “You know, I never really got the chance to stand around like this before.” 

“Yeah. Work keeps me so busy, and most days, I just want to head home and sleep.” 

“Tell me about it. My schedule’s constantly packed. Though, here’s to hoping that I can retire by, like, forty.” 

“I’m sure you can retire before then.” Ivan sighs, deflating all of a sudden. “I’m not sure I can even retire by sixty, at the rate my job’s going.” 

“Well, the working culture is really cutthroat here. You’d really have to fight tooth and nail for that promotion. Besides, hard work can only get you so far. Connections are everything.”

“And that’s why we have company dinners practically every night.” 

“Oh, trust me, I hate company dinners as much as you do. I’m in this for the art, and now the money, but mostly the art. I’ve been acting since I was a kid.” 

Ivan’s eyes grow wide. He feels instantly guilty for not knowing this. “Wait, really?” 

“Yeah. Since I was a baby. Apparently, I was in a diaper commercial. My mum recorded that ad and still has it saved somewhere on her computer.” 

What would Till look like as a baby? Ivan imagines a pudgy kid, his head covered in a bed of silver hair. He’d be wearing a set of cute baby blue clothes, crawling about on all fours, perhaps even sucking on a pacifier.

“It’s impossible to search it up now. I think the ad’s gone for good,” Till says. “It was from a bygone era.”

Ivan laughs. “You make yourself sound so old.” 

“Well, I am kind of old. We didn’t have any new-fangled smartphones or whatever when I was a kid. Like, kids these days should play with beetles and spiders like the rest of us.” 

“I’m two years younger than you, so technically, I also lived in that era.” 

“Hmm, true.” Till pushes himself off the railing, and he gestures at the patch of grass by the riverbank. “Let’s head down there.” 

The grass is cooling, the soil flaking against Ivan’s palm as he settles down on the ground, with Till next to him. The scent of the river is stronger up close, carrying the smell of petrichor. A few children play in the water, not venturing too far out into the deeper end. Sitting here, with the bridge towering over them, it’s even more calming. For the first time in a while, Ivan feels that he can truly relax and let go.

“It’s hard to see stars in the city,” Till says, angling his head up at the sky, at the few twinkling stars above them. “There’s light pollution everywhere.” 

“Yeah. Maybe we should go out to the countryside.” 

“Hmm, I think I heard you mentioning that once before. Tired of the city life?” 

“Well, I sometimes wonder whether I should just head back to my hometown and help out on the farm. Maybe take over it one day. Life isn’t as fast-paced as it is here in Seoul.” 

Till chuckles. “Then you probably wouldn’t have become my fan. You probably wouldn’t even have heard of me.” 

Ivan pauses, rubs his chin. “You know, I think I still would have. It’s hard not to know you, even out there in the boonies. That’s just how popular you are. And I think, in a separate universe where I stayed there… I think I would have become your fan.” 

Till adjusts the beanie on his head. Loose locks of silver hair peek out from under the hem. “Wow, talk about corny.” 

“I’m serious!”

“Yeah, well, every fan says that.” 

Ivan frowns, a sense of bitterness crawling up to his chest. Till has just reminded him that Ivan’s not his only fan in the world. That he’s sharing this space with… what? A million other fans all across the globe? 

“How has the date been?” Till asks, his voice clearer now that he has removed his mask. He’s drawn his knees up to his chest, hugged in his arms, compact like a tiny ball. He peers over at Ivan, his cheek resting on his kneecaps. “How does it compare to your expectations? It’s sorta boring, right?” 

Ivan’s head snaps in his direction. “W-What are you saying? Of course, it’s not boring! It was actually… really fun.” 

“Why did you say that like you didn’t expect it to be fun?” 

“No, it’s not that, Till-ssi!” 

Till lets out a breathless chortle. “Oh please, don’t call me that. It sounds so weird, especially if we’re supposed to be on a date. Just call me hyung. Like you probably always have been.” 

“B-But that’s different.” 

“What’s so different about it?” 

“It’s different when I call you hyung in private, and when I do it right in front of you.” 

“You just did,” Till says. “It’s not that hard. Come on, try again.” 

Ivan bites his lip, presses his palms against his cheeks, hoping to cool them down. He meets Till’s expectant gaze for a mere instant, before he has to glance away, lest he explode. Anticipation makes his skin crawl, and his voice is stuck in his throat as he tries to formulate that one syllable. 

“I’m waiting.” 

In the end, it comes out a garbled mess, topped with a question mark. “H-Hyung?” 

“There we go,” Till says, patting Ivan on the shoulder. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” 

Ivan covers his face with his hands. He has done it. He can finally cross that item off his bucket list.

“Well, now, you have a lot of material for your first chapter, at least,” Till says, and he stands. “Sorry, I’ve got to get going now. I have a shoot early in the morning, and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Right… Right! Yes, beauty sleep.” God, Ivan was so nervous that whatever progress he made towards speaking normally in front of Till has just been thrown out the window. “I’ll… I’ll be seeing you, h-h-hyung.” 

“That’s a good boy,” Till says with a smug smirk. “Come on, Dewey-hyung will give you a ride back.” 

Ivan can’t find it in him to refuse, especially if it promises more time with Till. Even now, Ivan still sees Till as the cool as a cucumber actor that he sees in the movies, in the behind-the-scenes videos, on stage receiving awards. He has a certain sort of charisma, a type of magnetic pull that sucks Ivan in. 

Till pulls his mask back on, and he jerks his chin at the bridge, in the direction of the restaurant where Dewey must be waiting to pick them up. “Come on, let’s get a move on.” 

*

“How was your first date?” Luka asks, his voice floating through the phone left on Till’s bathroom counter. Till soaks in his bubble bath, letting out a satisfied sigh as the warm water caresses his tired body. His sole rubber duck bobs about with the small waves. “It’s today, right? The first one?”

“It was okay. The kid was a nervous wreck, though.” 

“Any fan in his shoes would be. I mean, I’d probably be a nervous wreck if I’m alone with Hyuna too. Do you even have an idol?” 

Till hums. “I used to idolise Spongebob, but the older I get, the more I relate to Squidward.”

Luka cackles. “Don’t we all. But what did you do, though?”

“Standard stuff. Eat dinner, walk along the Han River, that sort of thing,” Till says. 

“Yeah, that does sound standard.” 

And so, begins Till’s rehash of the evening. Ivan was sort of cute. Though he may be twenty-seven, he still acts like a child in some ways. The way he stutters, flushing at every turn, but eventually gaining more confidence in himself… It’s not something he can relate to, having grown up in the world of showbiz, but it’s still nice to see.

Then, he reverts back to that hot, blushing mess as soon as Till asked him to call him hyung. He’s never thought it’d be such a big deal, particularly since Till has millions of fangirls calling him oppa near every day, even if they are older than he is.

“I guess it was pretty successful, then,” Luka says.

“Yeah, it was. I don’t know where he wants to take me next, though.”

“Wait, he was the one who planned it?” 

Till stretches, his muscles tightening, then relaxing. Suds swirl around him with each movement. “He’s the one who wanted to date me, so he should be the one putting in the effort, don’t you think?” 

“Wow, I pity the guy, really. I hope he finds out how much of an asshole you are.” 

“He will eventually. I mean, it’s not like I can hide it forever.” Then, a thought occurs to Till, and he reaches for his phone, not caring about the water droplets splashed all over his screen. “Ah, right, it’s Wednesday. The epilogue should be posted by now.” 

“The epilogue? Oh, that fic. You seem excited. I thought you were groaning and griping about how it had to end.” 

“Well, the author announced that he has a new work in progress, and that it’d be posted soon.”

Luka scoffs. “No wonder.” Then, he stops, hums in thought, before continuing, “How’d you know it’s a ‘he’?” 

“What?” 

“You said ‘he’ when you were talking about the author.” 

“Oh,” Till says, his brain moving quicker than it ever had, “he mentioned it in his author’s notes at some point.” 

“Right,” Luka says, sounding unconvinced.

“What do you care, anyway,” Till huffs. “This is my date, not yours.” 

“Can’t I be interested in my best friend’s life? If this keeps up, I’m never telling you when I start dating Hyuna.” 

Till huffs. “I’ll see it posted all over your Instagram anyway. Anyway, I’ll let you know more details when we actually, like, go steady or whatever youngsters say these days.” 

“Sure. Looking forward to it. Anyway, enjoy your bath—”

“How’d you know I’m in the bath?” 

“Please, I can hear the water splashing every few minutes. Where else would you be besides your own bathtub?” 

“Um… at the beach? Or at a pool party?” 

Luka snorts. “Yeah, right. Tell me that again when you have more friends than just me and Dewey.”

With that, Luka hangs up. Till sighs, running a hand through his hair, before sinking deep into the tub, till his nose is just above the water. He stares at the duck, which is now eye level with him, feeling guilty all of a sudden.

*

“He was awesome,” Ivan says, his phone pressed to his ear as he brushes his teeth early in the morning the next day. Sun filters through his threadbare curtains, blazingly hot even though it is barely seven a.m. Ah, the pleasures of summer. “I would literally pay to go on another date with him. I feel so bad that I’m not giving him anything in return.” 

“I can’t hear whatever the flying fuck you’re saying. I’m just asking when you’re going home for Mum’s birthday.” 

Admittedly, Ivan picked up the phone and started blabbering with a mouth full of foam. He hadn’t even heard the question, hadn’t seen the caller ID. Just assumed it was Sua because who else would call him this early? 

Ivan rinses his mouth with water from a tumbler, and he spits it out into the sink before continuing this conversation. “Mum’s birthday?”

“Yeah. In, like, two weeks’ time. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“No…” Ivan drawls sheepishly. If Sua were here, she’d have shot him one of her infamous death glares. 

“Anyway, I’m intending on heading back the day before. I’m buying the train tickets tonight. You with me?” 

“U-Uh, yeah, sure, of course. You know I can’t ever say no to you.” 

“You have. Multiple times.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

Sua snickers. “Whatever. I’ll send you the tickets later. Bye.” 

With that, she hangs up, leaving Ivan listening to a dial tone, then silence. He puts his phone back on the countertop, and he continues rinsing his mouth. Remnants of toothpaste mixed with saliva doesn’t taste good at all.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He was so excited last night that he hardly got a wink of sleep. His haggard face greets him, dark spots encircle his eyes, and his cheeks sag. He’s going to need a few days to recover from his lack of rest last night. Maybe he should get some tea on his way to work. 

In any case, it’s time to head off. Now, what should their next date be?

And more importantly, how’s he going to finish Object of My Desire? 

*

On Friday evening, the epilogue of Object of My Desire goes live. Till and his doting magistrate Y/N live happily ever after in a small village after fleeing the capital in a gruelling chase scene. Ivan leans back against his chair, glad that his fifty-plus chapter fanfiction has concluded. For now, he can take a break before writing this next one.

There’s just something about writing fanfiction based on his imagination, and one based on his personal experience. One is a fanfiction, the other is a diary.

Maybe Ivan should change up Y/N’s appearance. Make the main character a woman instead of a man. He wrote Object of My Desire to fulfil his own fantasies anyway, so it shouldn’t matter for his second work, right? Besides, most of Till’s fans are women and teenage girls, so they’d probably relate better.

At that moment, Ivan’s phone buzzes. It’s a message from Dewey.

Manager-ssi: Just saying, Till would be gone in about two weeks’ time. 

Manager-ssi: He’ll be busy for a week, then he’ll be back.

Manager-ssi: Just something to keep in mind if you’re planning the next date.

Two weeks’… Ivan feels like he has heard that phrase somewhere before. Oh! That’s the day of his mother’s birthday. He’s going home with Sua, so it’s not like he’d be free either. It actually works out fine for the both of them.

Ivan: I’ll be busy then too.

Manager-ssi: Great. You can continue on your dates after he gets back.

Ivan: Actually, I have an idea in mind. 

Ivan: I’d like to go to a water park. 

That should be fine, right? Till likes water stuff. A water park should be A-OK. 

Manager-ssi: Cool. There’s a park I know that has obstacle courses and slides and stuff. I’ll pick you up from your nearest train station. 

Manager-ssi: Unless, of course, you’re okay with sharing your address.

Manager-ssi: It’ll be on a Saturday, from 10-3pm. Like before, meals will be paid for. That good for you? 

Ivan shares the name of his nearest train station, and he replies that he’s fine with the timing. He’d give up his Saturday plans to spend time with Till any day. No sooner had Ivan sent that message that a comment notification pops up on his screen. It’s from TILLtheEnd, a.k.a. Till himself.

“Oh my God,” Ivan cries, springing back onto his seat. He has never clicked on a notification so fast in his life. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” 

TILLtheEnd: Great ending! Looking forward to your next work. 

Ivan nearly slams his forehead against his keyboard. Till has read his epilogue so fast, and he’s looking forward to his next work! Never in a million years did Ivan think that Till would ever say something like that to him! He wants to cry tears of joy. 

Ivan should get started on his next work right away—a journal entry of his date with Till. And he should firm up the beginning of the story, about how the fan met his idol. Maybe he should include a backstory too, let them be childhood friends. That’ll add a sentimental touch that’ll pull on the readers’ heartstrings.

After dinner, Ivan tells himself, as he stands and heads to the cupboard, pulling out a cup of instant ramyun. After dinner, he’ll get started on the new fanfiction, pronto.

*

“A water park? Haven’t been to one in ages,” Till says, as he sits on a chair, awaiting his turn back on set. “The last time I went, it was for Bloomin’ in the Wild.” That was a variety show where Till met Luka for the first time, five years ago. They met at the same water park that Dewey has suggested to him now. It was an obstacle course race, filled with boisterous laughter, tumultuous splashes, and a healthy sense of rivalry. 

Till got insanely bruised from that, getting punched by comically large gloves and bashing his head against the inflatable walls. It was fun, yes, but he wound up entirely in bed, recovering, the next day. 

“We could book the place for the duration of the date,” Dewey says. “That leaves you one hour to dry up and head to the studio for your photoshoot. For the Samsung ad.” 

“Right, okay, sounds good. Thanks, hyung.” 

“Wanna invite other people? If not, it’ll just be the two of you.” 

“Please, it’s not like I have anyone else to invite besides Luka-hyung, and he’s going to be busy. You’re welcome to join in if you want to.” 

Dewey snorts. “No thanks. I don’t want to be the third wheel when I’ve already got my own boyfriend.” 

“Are you sure? You can finally experience what it’s like to be in my shoes.”

Dewey doesn’t get a chance to respond, because Till is called back for his turn to take the last of his photos for the promotional material for the drama.

Chapter Text

Sua: Got you your train ticket.

Sua: bozoticket.pdf

Ivan: Thanks!

Ivan: Noona!! That’s so mean!! 

*

“You look so cute together!” the photographer coos as Till poses with his co-star Hyuna from Rooming Together. Wacky expressions, peculiar props, and a colourful and neon background that would sit right at home in some comedy drama. Till hadn’t had this much fun at a photoshoot for a while. 

“Damn, that’s finally over,” Hyuna says, as she stands and stretches. “They’re totally shipping us, aren’t they?” 

Till shrugs. “Probably.” 

“Just saying, you and I do not look cute together.” 

“Oh, trust me. We don’t.”

“Yeah, you’re not my type at all. I’d prefer someone…” 

“Cuter, more fairy-like, with blond hair.” 

Hyuna snaps her fingers. “Yeah! How’d you know?” 

“Lucky guess.” Till’s not going to tell her that’s the answer she gave on a random radio show that Dewey tuned into when he was driving Till to his early morning schedule. Even the interviewer asked if she had someone specific in mind. There’s no doubt that she does, but she’s probably too proud to admit it.

“Anyway, three days, was it?” Hyuna says. “Living together for three days… let’s just promise not to get in each other’s way.”

“Sounds good to me.” 

And with that, Hyuna heads off to her next filming location. It’s time for Till to get gong too. He has a few days of leave, considering he has no other appointments lined up until Saturday. After which, he’d be flying straight off to Jeju for Rooming Together. 

Something tells him that this Saturday promises to be interesting. 

*

Till in swimming trunks, Till in swimming trunks, Till in swimming trunks, is the only thought running through Ivan’s mind on repeat as he leans against the wall of the entrance to the underground train station one fine Saturday morning. There’s barely anyone about—no one in this residential district is diligent enough to get out of bed before nine a.m. on a weekend, it seems. 

A familiar black van pulls up to the side of the road, marked with ALNST’s logo. It garners curious glances from the few passers-by strolling past. The door slides open automatically, and Ivan hops in. Dewey slides the door shut, and the van takes off. Through the window, a woman stares, gaping at Till, and Ivan feels a sense of satisfaction and victory that he is the one riding in this van with Till. 

Till is dressed casually in a floral print shirt and a pair of grey shorts. He kicks one leg atop the other, leaned back against the seat, looking completely at ease. Maybe it’s the languid way he rests, or it may be the relaxed grin on his face, but God does Till look sexy.

“Morning,” Till greets with a wink. “It’s a bit early for the water park, so I was wondering whether you’d like to get some breakfast first.” 

“Breakfast… Yeah, breakfast sounds good.” 

“Great. Don’t expect anything too flashy though. I tend to eat at places where most people don’t eat at.” 

They come to a café at a quiet, suburban district. The only people on the street are a group of young boys, one of them clutching a soccer bowl under his arm. They chat excitedly to each other, barely batting a lash when Till emerges from the van.

“Do you want anything?” Ivan asks Dewey.

“Nah, I’m good.” Dewey shuts the engine off, kicks his legs up on the dashboard, and he pulls an eye mask over his eyes. “The owner and I, we don’t have the best relationship.” 

“Yeah. Jacob-hyung’s a really overprotective big brother,” Till says, and he gestures for Ivan to follow him. The van’s door slides shut behind him, and the two of them enter the diner.

The diner is run by a man with a scar running across the bridge of his nose. Brown wavy hair falls over his forehead, curling around his ears. He wears an apron over his uniform, serving up bowls of noodles to a couple. The scent of salt fills the air, and the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the heat outside, and the heat of the noodles. Ivan’s mouth waters. Till hops onto a seat at the counter, and Ivan plops into the seat next to him. 

“What a pleasant surprise,” the chef says, as he ambles back behind the counter. “And this is your friend?” 

“Yeah, this is Ivan,” Till says, and Ivan bows his head. “And Ivan, this is Jacob-hyung. Great, you’re both acquainted, so can I order now?” 

Till gets a bowl of pork bone soup with glass noodles, and Ivan decides to “have whatever he’s having.” Jacob serves up their meals in record time, two piping hot bowls promising deliciousness amidst the copious amounts of salt and spring onions. Till tucks in heartily, slurping up the broth like there’s no tomorrow. Meanwhile, Ivan takes small bites and sips, carefully savouring the taste. 

“How is it?” Jacob asks, leaning against the counter.

“It’s good,” Ivan says. Better than the diner’s rundown exterior and shady interior suggested.

“Would you come again?” Jacob gestures to the menu plastered on a large board behind him. “We have a lot of offerings. Next time, you could get one with mandu, or meatballs.” 

“Oh, err, okay.” 

Jacob turns to Till. “Well, if you’re here, that means that Dewey is here too, right? What’s he up to nowadays? Treating Isaac well?”

“You know he does,” Till says. “Isaac-hyung’s got that motorcross race coming up, right?” 

“Yeah, you want tickets? I have two, in addition to the one I already have.” 

“What about Dewey?” 

“Isaac would probably have reserved one for him. He knows I don’t like him. So, you two could go together, hmm? Think of it as a date.” 

Ivan’s eyes widen, and his head snaps towards Till. He didn’t tell, did he? 

Jacob laughs. “Why’re you looking so shocked? I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I mean, you look way too innocent to be dating someone like Till.” 

“Ah, knock it off,” Till mutters. “Gimme the tickets or whatever. Haven’t attended one of Isaac-hyung’s races in a while.” 

“Sure. Just give me a sec.” Jacob heads into the back, and the diner quietens down once more. 

Ivan glances over at Till. “For the record, I think anyone would be lucky to date you.” 

“Don’t give me that. You don’t even know me.” 

Ivan tightens his grip on his chopsticks, his gaze trailing back to his steaming bowl of noodles. Till has driven home that point that’s been roiling about in Ivan’s head. He doesn’t know Till—the only knows the Till that’s shown on television, on the big screen. The likeable, genteel image that he has carefully crafted to show the world.

Ivan places his chopsticks across the bowl, and he turns in his seat to face Till. Till raises a brow, his gaze on Ivan. 

“Hyung, I want to get to know you,” Ivan declares. “Only after knowing you do I get to decide whether or not I’m lucky to be dating you now.” 

Till snorts. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but… you might wanna keep it down when you’re announcing something like that.”

It’s only when he loses that momentary courage that Ivan realises that the patrons in the diner are staring at him. Him, and not Till. Was it something he said? 

“In case you forgot, homosexual relationships aren’t exactly approved of around here,” Till says with a chuckle, and he reaches over and ruffles Ivan’s hair. “Still, that display of honest naivety is nice to see once in a while. Come on, finish your noodles and let’s get out of here.” 

Ivan does as he’s told, chugging down his noodles. Jacob returns right then with two tickets, both of them largely pristine aside from the crumpling around the edges. More customers enter the store, and Jacob excuses himself to attend to them.

Till pockets one of the tickets, and he hands the other to Ivan. 

“See you there,” Till says. 

Ivan blinks, fingers pinching the ticket. “R-Really?” 

“Yeah,” Till says. “We don’t have to count this towards our number of dates.”

“Mm-hm, because I’m the one asking you to go.” Till pushes himself off his chair, and he grabs Ivan’s wrist. “Come on, let’s go back. The water park waits for no one.”

*

The water park is located just outside of Seoul, the road to reach it breaking away from the highway and weaving through a forest. The path is muddled with patches of loose soil clattering against the van’s body with each revolution of the wheel. No wonder Till suggested coming here. There’s a lower chance that they’d be recognised and swarmed with rowdy fans.

Dewey pulls to a stop in the lot outside the water park. From the window of the van, Ivan already sees a massive water slide that stretches towards the clouds, rising above the shorter trees. It’s shaped and painted like a lighthouse, the water slide curing around it and spiralling back into the pool. The wire for a flying fox strings across the There is also an obstacle course consisting of slides, bouncy balls and large boxing gloves hidden away in noticeable alcoves. 

Ivan hasn’t been to a water park in his life. The closest he’s come to playing in the water is with Sua back on that lake near their house. As someone with sensitive skin, he often explodes with rashes every time. His mother tried to make him stop, but Sua wouldn’t have had any fun playing all by herself.

“Wow, I want to get on that,” Ivan says, pointing to the towering water slide.

“We’ll take all the rides here, or we can just float about in the water. How about that? Today is just a day to relax.” 

“Let’s go on all the rides. I’ve never been to a water park, so—”

Till’s eyes widen a fraction. “Never been to a water park? Where’ve you been all your life?” 

“We-Well… we didn’t have water parks when I was a kid, and my parents didn’t bring me to one. I live out in the countryside, so there was a big lake that we used to play in, though.” 

“Ah.” And there is a note in Till’s voice that seems almost sheepish. “Did you have fun at that lake?”

“Yeah, that lake was only accessible through this large field. Only a few other people knew about the place, so we mostly played alone.” 

“‘We?’” 

“Me and my sister.” 

Dewey walks ahead to the counter to register their visit with the staff. Till drops like a stone into the soft leather sofa in the small lounge in the corner of the lobby. He pats the seat next to him, and Ivan sits as well. 

“How’s it like, having a sister?” Till asks.

“Oh, it’s a little bit like having a mortal enemy tied to you, but also your best friend. Something like that. I’m just lucky we bonded so well when we were kids.” 

“You don’t bond well now?” 

“No, we still do, but life’s different now, you know. We’re older, we’ve got our own lives to lead. We can’t be around each other as much as we were when we were younger.” 

Till nods. “I get that.” 

After registration, Till leads Ivan down a corridor, their footsteps clacking on the tiled floor. Eventually, they reach the men’s shower and locker room. They lock away their phones, wallets, and other belongings in the locker before Till unbuttons and shucks off his shirt. He undoes the drawstrings of his shorts to reveal a pair of swimming trunks underneath. It’s a deep navy blue, white reflective strips along the hem, the colour combination complementing his hair colour well, and—

“I knew this was what you wanted to see,” Till says with a self-serving smirk, one hand on his hip, the other grasping his clothes. “Glad I asked you to lock your phone up beforehand.” His grin grows wider, and Ivan’s head gets hotter. “God, you should see how red you are.” 

Ivan instinctively covers his face with his hands. His eyes have been blessed, but at what cost? “I-It’s a totally normal reaction!” 

“Really?” Till’s voice is low, bordering on sultry. 

“Y-Yeah, I mean… you’re my idol, and what kind of fan doesn’t want to see their idol looking all sexy?” 

“Oh, you think I’m sexy, do you?”

Two hands grip Ivan’s wrists, cold against his warmer skin. Ivan peeks out from between his fingers, only to squeeze his eyes shut again when he sees just how close Till’s face is to his. Each puff of hot breath from Till’s nose on Ivan’s fingers sets his nerves alight. If Till were to tiptoe, lean forwards, his lips would touch the back of Ivan’s hand. The very notion itself robs Ivan of all thought. 

“You can look, but no touching.” Till backs off, his warmth disappearing. Ivan’s heart rate begins to fall to a more normal pace. “Now, it’s your turn. Show me what you’ve got.” 

Ivan points at himself. “M-Me?” 

“Who else is there? Dewey’s not joining us, by the way.” 

“I definitely do not look as good as you, hyung. I’m an office worker with limited time and energy to work out.” 

“Oh, please. I don’t think it’s much of a competition here. Off with the shirt. Go on, off with it.” 

Ivan turns around. He hears Till trying but failing to stifle a chuckle. It takes him a good three seconds to try to forget about the fact that Till is behind him, looking at him , before he has the courage to strip his shirt off in one swift move, leaving his torso bare and leaving him self-conscious.

“You’re not seriously going to face away from me the whole time we’re here, right?” Till asks. 

“No, I just… need some time to prepare myself.”

“ You were the one who asked for a date at a water park.” 

“I know,” Ivan whines. He takes two deep breaths, and he spins on his heels, still clutching his shirt to his chest. Till’s arms are folded, and he cranes his head, as though admiring Ivan from various angles. Not that there’s anything much to admire. Ivan isn’t sculpted, he’s nothing more than skin stretched over bone and flabby arms and legs. He’s beginning to regret not picking up a gym membership when a part-timer approached him on the street five years ago. But five years ago, who knew he’d be so obsessed with Till and eventually meet him? 

“You’re not bad looking yourself,” Till remarks. “What’re you so shy for?” 

Ivan’s brain short-circuits. Till marches off towards the entrance of the water park, and Ivan waddles after him like a zombie. Till just called him not bad looking. Ivan wouldn’t mind being called ugly if it’s Till—or maybe he would, but he wouldn’t know—so Till complimenting him is a major plus. 

All of his embarrassment, however, is promptly forgotten when Ivan steps through the door and is greeted with the many large pools. Water spurts from fountains mounted on structures that look like castles and citadels. Streams slip down slides both high and low, flowing into the pool where the slide meets the surface. There is also a log ride in the distance, that was hidden by the trees and the tall walls that surrounds the facility.

“So, what do you want to play first?” Till asks, then he frowns. “You do know how to swim, right?”

“Erm… a little? I can do a bit of freestyle, but not for long.” 

“Huh, okay. We should get you some floaties, I guess, if you want.” 

“Floaties?” 

“Floatation devices, on your arms, so you don’t sink. Just in case.” 

“O-Oh. Sure.”

They procure a set of floaties for Ivan, the two puffy devices wrapped around his upper arms. Ivan glances around, and he asks, “Where’s everyone? Is it only just the two of us?”

“Yeah, I booked the whole place for the day, so technically, we could stay as long as we like.” 

“B-Booked the whole place?” Rich people really do think differently, because the thought of booking an entire water park for their little date has never once crossed Ivan’s mind. He would have sucked it up and got in the pool with the screaming kids. Though noise can be good sometimes—makes him feel less lonely—this is one of those times when he feels lucky that they’ve got the whole place to themselves. For one, no one would be privy to Till’s naked chest. Second, there’d be no one to distract them from their date.

“Yeah,” Till says. “Come on, let’s have some fun, shall we?”