The Mistakes That Led Us Together {The First Mistake; He Who Fell First}
Luka x GN Reader x Till
Summary: There are many mistakes that led to the mess you're in now, but the main three would have to be he who fell first, he who fell second, and you, who fell last.
Warnings: This takes place in a modern au where the aliens are humans! That said, this is part one of a three-shot fic that focuses on reader, Till, and Luka in elementary school! ( Around like first or second grade I imagined ) Luka is a warning in it of himself so unhealthy attachment, emotional disconnection, and health scares ahead. Jealous Luka is sprinkled in here somewhere. With that said, happy reading! <3
A/N: FUCKING FINALLYYYYYYYY!!! The fic was NOT cooperating with me dude ( another case of longshots hate ari and love to see her suffer ). This draft took a couple hours to edit so you guys better enjoy it or I'll cry, okay? Okay! Enjoy the first part of this year old draft of a slowburn between my favorite alnst rarepair + reader cause I'm greedy and have free will.
Tagging: @papiliotao, @lysarion, @tragedy-of-commons, @snowy-violet, @leafyonz, @themorbiddarling, @nyxx-vexx, @rincommittedarsin,
Extra: Enjoyed this? Consider snagging yourself a loyalty card so you can be notified as soon as I post!
Wanna check out the other alnst content we have? Check out our alien stage masterpost! 👽🎤
The gentle silence that filled these white walls were deafening to your bloodied ear. Ringing, it drowned everything out — your breath, your heartbeat, the loud and frantic bouncing of your leg — and, in that moment, it felt as if you had actually gone deaf.
Part of you wished that were the case. After all, if you were deaf, you wouldn’t have been able to decipher the cry of pain Luka made when his head collided with your living room TV and the grunt of pain that followed when he collapsed to the floor alongside the broken shard.
Furthermore, if you were deaf, you wouldn't have heard Till — who yelled Luka's name as if it were the last thing he'd ever do before it was abruptly cut short by quiet, stuttered gargling that was unfortunately loud enough to be picked up and deciphered. A strangled noise you remember it was — for it was a clear indicator of Till's shock as a knife pierced his stomach. It was the same knife that had sliced your ear. The same one you had forgotten to secure before naively opening the front door of your apartment.
…That’s right. All of this was because of you.
You were the reason Till got stabbed — the reason Luka dyed your living room carpet red too. Not just that, but it's because of you that you're sitting in the waiting room with your mother — who, for the first time in her entire life, trembles with fear over the fact that she very well may lose not one, but two children. Children that weren't hers by blood, but ones she saw as her own kin nevertheless. Kids that she allowed into her home, fed, hid away for a time and, in her own odd way, loved deeply.
Love. Such a stupid emotion. For this feeling that simmered — and still burns — deeply in your core is the very reason that drove you here. The very thing that gave you that plan to run away from this life that's grown worn with misplaced anger, years-long miscommunication, and so, so many tears — and start anew with a bond that stems back to early in your childhood.
Your childhood. You had made so many mistakes back then. You wish you could do it all again — for them, for yourself — so that you could fix this giant mess you've single-handedly created.
…And by fix, a part of you, forever disillusioned, extends that to the two whom you, just a night prior, had promised to spend your entire life with; Luka and Till.
For if you hadn't made the mistake of meeting them that day during recess back in elementary and befriending them under that large tree on the hill, none of this would've happened.
It was hot and slightly humid that day — the perfect weather to play — and you were running around with your classmates when one of them suddenly collided with someone else. They flew back and because you were behind them, you ultimately did as well when they came crashing into you.
“Hey, watch it!” someone shouted a few feet away from where you laid. You had initially thought it your classmate, but after getting up and helping them do the same, you realized that you had been wrong in your assumption. For it not had been them, but the person they had run into. A boy who possessed green eyes of fire that shone brightly, reminding you of two emerald pendants beaming under those sunlight rays.
Stubbornness was your flaw, and when paired with the lack of maturity that wore you like silk sleeves, you were simply a disaster waiting to worsen — or in this case, worsen a situation.
Upon realizing it was the boy who had said that, despite your party having been so clearly in the wrong, you rolled your eyes to the sky and, like the child you were, said something back to get the last word in.
“You were in our way, so you should watch where you're going next time!” you had told him, putting an emphasis on every 'you' that left your lips. The boy clearly wasn't fond of that response, for his dark brows had begun to furrow and his yelling grew more aggressive the more he spoke.
“Nah uh! You guys weren't looking and ran into me!” he had said, scrambling to stand to his feet as he finished his thought, remarking angrily, “It’s probably 'cause you couldn’t see, four eyes!”
At this point, you were both on your feet and the height difference between you two had been revealed to the small audience your little back and forth had garnered. You were the taller one by a small margin, for you leaned on the bigger side of the scale for a kid your age — a characteristic your mother often complimented you and praised herself for, as it was a sign of your body storing nutrients properly, or so she had explained once.
All of this was to say that the boy cared not one bit for your size, craning his neck to look up at you with that same fire crackling in his irises, to which a staring contest of who could assert the most dominance with their glare ensued.
You should’ve walked off then and left the boy to yell at your retreating figure while you ran off to play with your friends, but you didn't. You couldn't. Not when this shrimp currently held the title of the last spat which, in your head, was a telltale sign of his winning lead in this argument.
You had to win this. You just had to, which was why — instead of turning and leaving — you stood your ground and exclaimed, “Well it’s not our fault you’re so hard to see, shorty!”
And just like that, victory had been secured. Your classmate was at your side backing you now, and soon enough, others followed suit, saying similar phrases of, 'watch where you're going' and your favorite, 'shortypants'. A smirk of triumph painted your expression. You had won this battle.
And what did you obtain as a trophy? Only what you had deserved in that moment, which was a firm punch to the cheek.
The smart thing to do in that situation would've been to alert a teacher. Show them the battle scar you had so unjustly received and deliver the boy his just desserts, but unfortunately for yourself at that age intellect, or even common sense, wasn't your strong suit.
You were a rather emotional being. The kind that let said emotions control and drive you. That said, the moment the punch was landed, the boy — and by extension your own — fate was sealed, for you had immediately retaliated with a punch of your own and a fight broke out.
Soon after that, a teacher was informed about what was happening, came to break you two up, and you both were punished for unruly conduct. Your punishment in question, you may ask. Well it was brutal and utterly inhumane; to sit out for the remainder of recess and mend your relationship with the boy by talking out your feelings.
At the time it happened, you were very upset. Play time meant a lot to you, and you didn’t believe you deserved to be stripped of that because some short brat who nearly knocked your tooth out couldn't control his temper. To your young, undeveloped self, you found this treatment to be unjust. After all, you were just defending yourself and your friend!
Anyway, the teacher had made your designated timeout spot a large tree that sat on a giant hill at the farthest corner of the school's playground. It was a little far out from the play structures and equipment and provided little privacy, so conversing with other kids would serve as a difficult task — which was perfect for your teacher. You two were sent off where a short, bickering travel side by side had landed you two perched on opposite ends of that large tree.
The atmosphere had grown thick with your growing tension by then. In fact, if it things stretched on like this, a branch would snap, you were sure of it.
Honestly, what was your teacher thinking subjecting you to such torture?!
“This is all your fault, y’know?” you suddenly heard the kid speak from the under side of the tree trunk. The absolute nerve of this guy, you had thought. Your tiny teeth beginning to grind under the heavy feeling of indignation boiling your blood.
“My fault?! You were the one who threw the first punch!” you finally shouted back after a few seconds.
The boy matches your tone and energy perfectly, “I only threw the first punch because you picked a fight with me!”
“No I didn't! And even if I were, if you weren't being such a big, mean jerk and started yelling at me and my friend, I wouldn't have said anything to you!”
“It’s not my fault that you’re such a baby and cry when someone snaps at you!” a big, loud exasperated gasp leaves you as offended shock hits you like a semi-truck.
“I. did. not. cry!” You shrieked, “Say that to my face!”
“I would, but you’ll probably end up eating dirt again!” you could hear it in the way he said it that he was likely grinning while speaking his sentence, and just the thought of it being even the least bit true made you want to wipe it off his face, specifically with your fists.
“Oh yeah?! Then prove it!” you shot to your feet faster than a bullet firing from a gun. Your anger reaching new heights like an inferno fueled by fresh logs, “Let’s see you try and—!”
Click!
You pause, your lips snapping shut and your feet stilling in their tracks to round the trunk. What was that sound?
It seemed so close and yet — you take a glance around, just in case — there was no one near that could have produced it. Were you imagining things?
Wait, no— focus! You have a short-stack to make into a pancake, you shouldn't be worried about some random sound!
You open your mouth once again with that in mind, planning to ignore the strange noise, but then you heard it again; a sharp click that kind of sounded like your teacher snapping her finger to gain the class’s attention. Was she? Out here? Was it time to leave already?
Your gaze panes. You could see your teacher in the distance helping a kid on the swings, not a motion signaling that she was responsible for the sound. Not that you had really believed that to be true, for even if she had, it wouldn’t have sounded so close. Never hurts to confirm a — what was the word your mom used? Theera? Theron? No, that's not right either..
“What? You too chicken to come over here?”
Your eye twitches. This brat. You had, somehow, almost forgotten about him and about the pummeling you were about to dish out. Thankfully, he had just put you back on the right track.
Click! ..Click!
..Click! Click! Clack!
“Would you quit with all that clicking?!” the boy finally shouts.
“That’s not me!” you yell back. Your voice pitching as if you were being accused of some grand crime, which to young, innocuous you, was what was basically happening.
“Stop blaming stuff on me!”
“I would if—!” Click! Click! Click! Click! “Agh..! I told you to stop that!”
“I told you I'm not doing that! See? I'll show you— Woah!”
Your feet come to a firm stop. The suddenness of your action nearly causing you to topple forward and right onto what was causing your abrupt halt in the first place — a person. A really pretty person. Someone who, no exaggeration, looked like they were ripped straight out of a storybook!
They sat, back pressed against the backside of the tree which blocked the sunlight from touching their pale skin as they sat in the trunk's overarching shadow. Despite this, it was like they were glowing — angelically so almost — and that was mostly because of their odd appearance.
Their hair and lashes were a faded shade of yellow and looked as fluffy as the clouds that hung overhead. Their hair had a little bounce to it, but was a bit shaggy at the same time and gave you the idea that if you were to pet it, the sensation would be akin to petting a baby kitten's fur coat. Their skin was doughy, but smooth. Void of any blemishes or scars from playing a little too roughly — not to mentioned that it looked as though it were being moisturized by holy water daily. The one thing that seemed to throw off this already odd sight before you, though, were their eyes — which were at an obviously dark downturn despite its golden color, giving off a rather somber vibe, especially when you locked eyes with them.
In all honesty, they reminded you quite a bit of the sad little prince from the fairytale your teacher read in class yesterday during reading time.
Click! Click! Click!
…And it seemed that this depressed little prince was the culprit of that infernal racket. Though, you couldn’t find yourself being exactly angry about the noise anymore.
“Hey, what’s that you have there?” you found yourself asking him. Completely forgetting, once again, about your initial plan of beating up the kid on the other side of the tree. In fact, your latest discovery had made you forget about him entirely.
You walk over, deciding to plop yourself beside the sullen new face as if you’d done so a million times before, smiling as though you were approaching your best friend rather than a stranger. Your older relatives have yapped your ears off in the past about ways to work on that — being more uptight when interacting with people who aren’t in your close circle, you mean — but your mom has always told you to ignore them, preferring that you remain your ‘naturally benevolent and unapologetically guileless self’, whatever that means.
“Mmm..” the boy hums as he very slowly tilts his head upwards, finally deciding to acknowledge the new presence at his side.
He locks eyes with you, and his gaze is unnervingly colorless despite its pretty, vibrant shade. ( Looking back at it now, it was like you were staring at a starless sky. Something devoid of the sparkles of joy and happiness. Something truly deserving of the phrase, 'depressing'. To your childlike brain at the time, though, he simply looked down. )
After taking a few seconds to take in your appearance, the gloomy boy eventually turns back to his strange toy without so much as a greeting. He doesn't bother to answer your question either. It makes you frown for a moment. Only a moment though, for you're quick to rebound.
“Is it like a game?" you ask him, "Is that why you keep turning the blocks like that?”
He looks up at you again with the same expression. No sign of irritation or anger about being interrupted for a second time. It was a little bizarre — even to someone like you, who's mom was the textbook definition of such a word — but, at the same time, it was relieving to know that you don’t seem to irk him with your persistence like you have with a few of your classmates in the past.
..And what's even better is that your pushing didn't earn you a mean comment or a glare, but the answer you were sought to gain.
“It’s a Rubik Cube. You turn each side until all the colors match up,” he states. His words seem blunted by boredom ( and looking back on it, seemed stripped of any soul or life. Though, again, your child brain filtered it out and you didn't interpret his tone in such a way ).
To child you, his voice was simply..calming. Like listening to Wubble read you bedtime stories at night or your mom hum her favorite song for the fiftieth time while she worked on a new gadget. Yeah, something like that. Like, if you were forced to sit here and do nothing but listen to him talk for the remainder of recess, you’re sure this boy could bring you an early naptime — and you wouldn't mind that one bit. His voice relaxes you — so much so that despite only barely meeting, and not even knowing his name, you leaned against the boy's shoulder.
He didn’t pause at your action nor did he hesitate from shock or discomfort. He didn’t react much at all really, and continued to turn and twist the quad-colored cube wrapped snugly in his chubby hands — like the one leaning all their weight against him was a close friend of his and not a total stranger. It was surprising reaction for you to witness, but you didn’t complain. Chalking his behavior up as him simply being a chill person as the comfort of your newfound position set in.
Alas, you — the ever active kid — couldn’t remain satisfied for long and ended up poking the fat of the boy’s cheek to gain his attention so you can ask him yet another question.
“Can I try?”
Immediately, he stops, and to your glee, the boy shifts the block to one hand and holds it up to your face. Silently giving you permission to take it from his grasp — which you eagerly take with a small exclamation of thanks.
You start off zealous; twisting and turning the sides fast and aggressive like your life depended on completing the simple yet complex puzzle. That said, the clicking of every side that snaps into place grows much louder than before — as if someone had connected them to a giant speaker — but the noise ultimately flows into one ear and bounces right out the other as concentration settles within you.
And within seconds that concentration is shattered by a familiar, grating voice.
“I knew it!” the green-eyed pest from before exclaimed, and you found yourself blinking in surprise upon realizing he’s now standing right in front of you. When had he gotten so close?! More importantly..
“You’re still mad about that?!” you asked, “I already told you—!"
“Shut it, I don’t wanna hear anymore of your crap!” he cuts you off, and you had planned to gasp from shock — after all, he had just said a bad word — but before you could, he reaches down and clasps his hands around the top and bottom of the Rubik Cube which gave you another, more pressing reason for an exasperated exhalation.
“What are you doing?!” you shrieked, pulling the cube towards you with all the might you could muster, screaming, “Hey, quit it!”
“No!" he responded, tugging with just as much strength, "I told you to stop it with all the clacking but you wouldn’t so now I gotta stop you myself!”
“I told you a million times it wasn’t me!” you yelled, “And this isn’t even my cube! You can’t just snatch someone else's stuff, thief!”
“Who’re you callin’—!” “Hey, what are you two doing up there?!”
Both of you jump at the familiar sound of your teacher’s voice and pause simultaneously. You turn your head first, but don’t immediately see her. Your eyes dart left and right, scanning the playground until you spot the familiar gray of your teacher’s hair at the farthest end of the playground. How is it even possible for her to see that far?!
“Don’t tell me you two are still fighting?!”
The echo of her shout is carried through the wind and up to your ears. Though delayed, you can perfectly hear the unspoken warning in her stern tone. The boy does too, because you both seem to freeze up like stone statues.
“W- We’re not!” / "W- We aren't!"
Dang, you two even stammered at the same time, though his voice sounds babier. You would say something, but right now, you’re scared even fixing your lips would be caught by your teacher’s hawk eyes and she’ll end up giving you an even worse punishment than what you’re dealing with now — like homework.
So instead of saying something, you wait until your teacher’s eyes go back to your classmates before snatching the cube away. The sudden action seems to snap the boy from the spell of terror your teacher put him under and, upon realizing what you did, he glares daggers at you. You retaliate by sticking your tongue out and he growls out of frustration.
But before things could escalate for a third time, the cube is swiped from your hands.
You spin your head around towards the culprit — who you had already forgotten was there despite only being distracted for a minute or so. Your eyes lift, surprised, but then immediately soften when they lock with that blank gaze you’ve already managed to grow used to.
The gray haired boy — who was still towering over your sitting form — followed your gaze, but as his eyes lock onto the gentle-faced boy curled up beside you, watching as he shifts different sides of the cube and form that incessant clicking sound, his eyebrows start twitching.
He opens his mouth to say something, but then suddenly hesitates as a chill runs down his spine. His finds himself gazing over to where your teacher is once more and his face pales when he lock eyes with her.
Seriously, how does she do that??
In the end, the boy has no choice but to bite the bullet on this one. Irritated and defeated, he stomping back over to his former seat, where he curls into himself and begins to sulk.
The three of you sat in silence for a while after that. You had, once again, made yourself comfortable against your new friend’s side as you watched in awe as he completed the puzzle for the second time in under five minutes.
By the third, you found yourself asking, “How do you do that so fast? Is there a trick to it?”
“No,” he answers bluntly. You pout, unsatisfied by his answer but having no choice but to accept it.
That’s when that annoying pest decided to add his unwanted opinion, “You’re just an idiot.” he quipped.
You can feel your vein flexing on your forehead; a result of how hard your clenching and damn near grinding your teeth together.
“Who asked you?” you snap, though it comes out whinier than you’d like to admit. Out of embarrassment, you puff your cheeks and grumble, “Like you’d do any better than me..”
“I would do better,” He retorted, seeming to have heard you.
“Oh yeah, then prove it!” You huffed, crossing your arms against your chest.
“Fine!” and the boy's rising to his feet once again. This time only for a moment before plopping down on the opposite side of the blonde boy.
He opens his hand out in his direction, already inching towards the cube, saying, “Hey, lemme see that for a sec’.”
Your mouth falls open, ready to scold the boy for his rude way of asking, but the sad prince gives you a whole new reason for your jaw to drop when he glances over at the gray-haired boy and suddenly begins moving his faster than anything before — twisting and turning sides at random until it's reverted back to looking like a mismatched, complex art piece.
He finally hands it off to the gray-haired boy and you find your lips twisting into a mean grin as you watch his face drop.
“Still think you can do better than me?” you snickered. The boy scowls.
“Yeah! Even a toddler can do better than you,” he replies back, and your giggling promptly ceases, twisting into a frown.
“Oh yeah? Well I bet an infant can best you!” you told him, subconsciously leaning forward which pushes your poor blonde friend forward as well, sandwiching him between you two. That said, from the look on his face, he doesn’t seem to care about the newfound, constrictive position and simply stares at you and the gray-haired boy as you continue your back and forth.
“You take that back!” said gray-haired boy shouts. Slamming his hand down on the grass as he leans forward as well, nearly smacking the blonde boy’s hand by accident as he does so.
“Not until you take back what you said first!” you say.
“As if!” he retorts, “Why would I anyways — it’s true!”
“Well, shorty, you still haven’t solved the puzzle! At least I got close to doing that!” you remark, watching with growing satisfaction as the boy’s face begins flushing red as he realizes that you’re right.
“I—! Well—!” he lets out a frustrated yell, then exclaims, “I’ll show you!”
Recess went by in a flash after that as you remember spending the remainder of your time watching the gray-haired boy’s sorry attempt at solving the Rubik Cube, failing miserably, before then watching your blonde friend surpass you both effortlessly by completing the puzzle within a few minutes of starting — something the gray-haired boy swore he had a part in helping achieve.
You remember proclaiming at the end of recess, “Let’s do this again tomorrow during recess! I’ll definitely beat your fastest then, uh…”
You pause as it finally dawns on you; this entire time, you haven’t known his name.
“...Hey, what’s your—” “You two, c’mon! You don’t want to get left behind, do you?”
Your tongue is forced to a stop as your mouth clamps shut. You glance over and see your teacher with her hands on her hips, looking expectantly at the three of you.
“Be careful on your way down, Luka.”
Your gaze drift as your eyes land on a woman you’ve never seen before. It’s obvious she’s another teacher by the tag hanging around her neck, but…why is she out here? Has she always been? If so, why? The only class out here is yours.
…And who in the world is Luka?
You turn back to the blonde with the intention of getting an answer to your earlier question only to be pushed aside as he stands to his feet and wordlessly walks away from you and the gray-haired boy without so much as a goodbye.
You watch him with wide eyes as his little legs tread down the steep hill, across the field, and up to the nice-looking woman — which technically answers your question about what his name was. Your smile returns at this.
Unfortunately, your satisfaction is short-lived as another question in your head forms; who in the world is this kid then?
You had been so mad early that you didn’t question him, but — before today — you had never seen this boy before. Yet again, however, you had no time to even get your question out before your teacher’s shrill voice filled your ears once more.
“Y/n! Till! If you take any longer, say goodbye to your afternoon snack time!”
“Coming!” you both shout in unison. A sudden urgency fueling the both of you as you scramble to your feet and run down the hill as if you were being chased by child-eating beasts.
In the heat of the moment, it didn’t click in your mind that your unspoken question had, once again, been answered — not until your teacher was doing a headcount of your class and you had heard him answer to the Till, for a second time.
The afternoon prior, you had unofficially been introduced to the new student, Till, during recess. That said, you found it pointless to pay him anymore mind during his official introduction this morning and promptly slept that morning away at your desk. It wasn't a big deal to you. After all, you had been forced to waste your playtime on meeting him and, even if you didn't know his name for the majority of it, there was no point in throwing away more time to him. He was a brat anyways.
Unfortunately, your teacher didn't seem to care for your reasoning when she had abruptly woken you up — if anything, it seemed to only anger her more. Maybe that's why she gave you the same punishment twice; sitting out during recess.
You were, rightfully, upset at first. How could you not be? Thanks to some shorty with a bad attitude, you once again couldn't do the activity you loved to do most — the highlight of your boring school day — playing. That said, your mood didn't persist for very long when she sentenced you to the same tree atop the hill.
Because that's where the sad little prince was hidden away yesterday, playing with his Rubik's cube.
The penalty was to sit out for recess, but technically your teacher never outright said you couldn't chat with friends or play with them. Besides, you could barely call solving puzzles fun anyways.
As expected, you found the golden boy slumped in the same spot he was in the day prior. Though, to your surprise, he wasn’t fidgeting with the colorful cube like you thought he would be doing. Instead of his doughy fingers swiftly maneuvering sides of the multi-colored block and matching up colors, they were lodged in his mouth, where he sucked away at them like a baby with a bottle.
He also wasn’t entirely leaning against the rough bark of the wood, but comfortably laying against something much softer. A shoulder, one belonging to none other than..
“Till?!” You bewilderingly exclaimed. At the call, said boy stops his ministrations on the cube firmly held in his hands and darts his eyes upwards.
The two of you lock eyes, and the moment you do, his face is twisting into a weird expression — as if the sight of him here was some common occurrence that you, for some reason, were the only one not aware of. It causes you to give him a similar look.
It spurs him to ask, “What?”
“Why are you over here?” you shoot out, deaf to how accusatory you make your question sound.
Till clicks his tongue, responding with a growl to his tone, “What? Got a problem with me relaxing?! You tryna pick another fight?!”
Your response is immediate, much to his surprise, “No.”
"I wasn't expecting to see you here.." you continued as you made your way over to your blonde friend, sitting down next to him when you do, where you proceed to — like before — push all your weight onto him. This time though, your arm snakes behind him and you wrap around his other shoulder and pull him closer. He's smaller than you so when he comes barrelling into you, his head hits your chest, allowing you the perfect opportunity to prop your chin atop his fluffy, golden curls.
Finally, now that you're comfortably settled, you decide to finish your sentence, saying, “I mean, the only reason you hung around yesterday was because you were in trouble and had nothing to do.”
“The same could be said about you..” Till trails off, his eyes having followed you to your current seat where they lingered on the sight before him with an almost cautious expression morphing on his face.
You notice this and question him, “What?” you ask.
He replies with a question of his own, “Are you trying to crush him?” a gasp leaves you. He did not just say that!
“I am not — am I crushing you, Luka?!” you pull back, looking down at the golden boy under you. He meets your gaze, his thick, slanted lashes fluttering slightly with every slow blink of his eyes.
Expressionlessly, he shakes his head no.
“Ha! See? He’s fine!” you say, sticking your tongue out as you oh so boldly proclaim, “You’re just mad you didn’t think of doing this sooner! Not that he’d ever let you!”
Till’s eye twitches at your comment. His anger quickly spiking as he blurts out, "Ye- Yes he would! I just haven't because.. because I don't want to!"
“Excuses, excuses,” you retort. Now both of his eyes are twitching.
He growls, frustration burning in his eyes as he yells, “I’ll show you!” and with that loud cry, Till wasted no time shifting around and leaning back, allowing his head to fall and land on the small of the boy's lap. He doesn’t react to the newfound position, and merely looks down at the emerald-eyed boy as he continues to suckle at those same two fingers without a care in the world.
“Se- See? He doesn’t care.” Till’s intent was to sound smug, but his words came out as a bashful stutter as his face was set ablaze under both you and the golden boy's gazes from above.
..This is more embarrassing than he estimated it would be.
Till doesn’t move an inch though. Stubbornly determined to prove his point, he continues to lay there and goes back to messing with the Rubik Cube to ignore both of your stares. As he does this, you found yourself watching him — and for way longer than you thought possible for someone as short-spanned as yourself — as a comfortable silence fell over you three.
And then, unprompted, you decide to voice an inner thought that surfaced as you watched him, “Wow you suck.”
In seconds, Till's face reddens all over again.
“Like you could do–!” “Turn thack shide…”
Both of you pause — and you even go as far as to pull away from your comfortable position to stare at the boy beneath you owlishly with Till.
He doesn’t bat an eye to your shared reaction of shock, but he does — at last — release his fingers from their slippery, wet prison to point them at Till’s right hand.
“Turn that side forward,” he repeats softly, and before Till can even comprehend his delicate voice giving him instructions, he’s shrieking from disgust when drool drips from the boy's fingertips and onto his finger.
“Eww..!” He drawled, shooting up from his lap, “Wipe your—! Hey, stop! Don't you dare to me touch me!”
Ignoring his yells, the boy closes the small distance between them, his smaller hands coming up to cradle Till’s slightly larger ones.
“Turn this side,” he repeats for a third time, yet still as gently as the last two times. His hand forcing Till’s to follow his instruction as he continues, “Turn the bottom next… Then the middle one…”
Soft clicks follow after every direction given, but they’re promptly drowned out by Till — whom of which seems much more concerned over the warm, clear liquid dripping down his hands than anything the boy's saying.
Eventually, Till yanks himself away entirely upon realizing his yells of protest were getting him nowhere and shuffles to his feet — ready to yell everyone in the vicinity's ears of, when you noticed something.
“Hey, you did it!”
Your exclamation has Till pausing and furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. Nevertheless, he follows where your fingers are pointed down at his drool-covered hand…which he the now completed Rubik Cube. His eyes widened.
“I.. I did it!” he said after the moment of shock washes away, “I actually did it!”
Then, he turns to the boy, and for the first time, you and him were able to witness Till's lips stretch into a genuine smile.
“Thanks for the help..! ..Uh..” he trails off.
"Luka.." the boy mumbles.
"Thanks for the hand, Luka!" Till repeats, but he golden, sad prince — who's name has now been confirmed to be Luka — doesn’t say anything to acknowledge his thanks, instead going back to sucking on his pudgy fingers. Till doesn’t mind, continuing to smile warmly at him.
“Hey, can you teach me next?” you ask, excitement beginning to bubble within you, as you couldn't even allow him the proper of window of time to answer you, already opting to begging him, “Pretty please…?”
You lean against him once more, this time wrapping both arms around him where you nuzzle your cheek against his, pleading once more, "Pleeeeasssee…!"
Alas, instead of getting the answer you so desperately desired, you got one you didn't want from someone you didn't ask — Till.
“Nuh uh! It's still my turn!” he tells you. Your expression sours.
“You’ve had it this whole time! Plus, you’ve already solved it so that means your turn is over,” you argue.
“That didn’t count! I wasn’t even paying attention!”
"So?! It's still my turn!"
( In the end, the Rubik Cube was taken by Luka and you two were forced to learn via watching — and watch you two did whilst sandwiching the poor boy…who actually didn't seem to mind all that much for being stuck in the position you two had him in. )
“You’re younger than us?!” you cry out, staring quizzically at Luka.
“But aren’t you in our grade?!” Till asks.
The blonde in question on nods his head, not bothering to further explain himself as he focuses on reshuffling the Rubik Cube after having solved it for the fourth time that afternoon. You and Till exchange glances of bewilderment for a moment before returning your eyes back to Luka, who sat in between you two.
You decide to ask on behalf of both of you, “How does that work?!”
“I skipped a grade,” he replies bluntly. You gasp at this, your eyes beginning to sparkle with awe. Till doesn’t match your expression, looking at Luka with confusion still swirling in his green hues.
“You can do that?” he asks, “How?”
You decide to answer on Luka’s behalf, a wide smile stretching across your starry expression, “You have to be smart — like really, really, really smart!” you explain, “My older cousin did the same thing in middle school and everyone was praising her for it and calling her a genius!”
Till's brows furrow, “What’s a genius?”
“Someone so smart that they can solve anything no matter how hard it is!” you eagerly answer. That’s when the gears finally click in place for Till and his expression changes to match yours as he looks down to gawk at Luka as if the boy had just fought of a group of bullies and came out of it unscathed.
His eyes shine despite the tree's shading and are blown wide — wide enough that Luka can see the steady transformation of his grass green eyes brightening into a lighter shade as continues to marvel at him.
“Is that really true? Can you solve anything?!”
Luka opens his mouth to answer, but before he can say anything—
“Y/n! Till! There you are!”
All three of you turn in unison. A girl — as beautiful as a flower and with the smile of an angel — runs up to them with a black-haired girl harboring a shorter stature following close behind her. Your face somehow manages to brighten even more at her appearance while Till’s expression changes to resemble that of a deer in headlights.
Luka finds his eyes lingering on Till’s face, and watching it steadily bloom, for way longer of a time than he gives the nice-looking girl rapidly approaching.
“Hey, Mizi!” you greet cheerily to which she seems to match you, happily singing out, “Hey, Y/n!”
“H- H- Hey, Mizi..” Till barely manages to mumble out. She glances at him and sends a smile his way and the color of Till’s face seems to turn from a peach pink to a cherry red. None of you seem to pay any attention to it except for Luka — who’s eyes still haven’t left his face. Almost as if he were unable to.
In a way, it seemed like he couldn’t. Like he was being roped in by every twitch and change of Till's expression — like right now with Till’s lips quirking up in an awkward, crinkly smile.
This was the second time Luka has seen Till smile, he notes, but also that its the first time it wasn’t directed being directed at him. The realization sunk like a pebble in his tummy and sat uncomfortably at the bottom. Luka wasn’t sure why, but he knew he didn't like it.
“Wanna play hide and seek with us?” Mizi suddenly asked, snapping him away from his thoughts.
“Sure!” Luka spins his head over to look at you. You had that same bright, happy expression on your face that was just previously directed at him, though, it didn’t give him the same feeling of consolation as before, instead providing that same sinking feeling in his gut. Was it because it wasn't being made at him? Or because he wasn't the cause of such a reaction?
Whatever it reason, the uncomfortable faded a bit when you turned it back to him.
“Come on!” you suddenly wrapped both of your arms around his right arm and stood up, pulling him to his feet with ease. Luka's stares at you for a couple seconds, and for the first time ever, you watch his dark, dull eyes light up with so much surprise — so much emotion — that his drooping eyes have to widen in order to contain all the shock swirling within them. You find your own eyes widening slightly at this and you can't help but tilt your head too.
“What?” you ask him, “Don’t you wanna play too?” to which he responds slowly, hesitantly, as if the words he mumbled out were some kind of taboo.
“You…want me to play…? With...you?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my friend!” you say.
“...Friend?”
Friend. It was truly a word foreign to him. Something he’s never really understood. Never really had. Never really yearned for. He’s heard the word thrown around in the past — usually by kids running around, smiling and giggling as they hug and hold and play.
Is that what the word entails? Does being someone's friend — being your friend — mean that he’d be able to run around with you, smiling and giggling with you, as you hug him, hold him, and play with him? Does that mean that cheery, smiley, joyful expression of yours would belong to him and him only?
“Luka, Y/n!” Luka blinks. That was Till’s voice…and he sounded strangely farther than before.
He turns his head the opposite way of you, and sure enough, Till is marching up the hill towards you, most likely having ran off before realizing you two had trailed after him to which he turned around and came back to get you both.
He notices that pink haired girl, M…whatever her name was, and the black haired girl standing at the bottom of the hill. Did they all run down there at some point?
More importantly, why were they all waiting on them?
“What’s taking so long, slowpokes?! Recess will be over before we even start playing tag at this rate!” Till spat as he finally made it back to the top of the hill. Luka didn’t really care much for his comment, but as always, you very much seemed to mind it.
“Who’re you calling a slowpoke?!" you puffed before then saying, "We were just heading down there!”
“Well walk faster!” he snapped back, before suddenly, Luka felt his other arm being enveloped and his body being dragged down the steep hill by none other than Till — who truly intended to have him join them.
Does that mean Till also sees him as a friend? Luka never gets a chance to ask him as the petty dispute between you and Till left him no room to cut in.
Before long, he was learning how to play hide-and-seek with a bunch of other kids he never thought he’d ever interact with. It was truly an experience for him. One that, for once, had him hoping he’d experience it again and again endlessly.
The room was silent, yet the buzzing in Luka’s ears made it seem so much louder.
It was such an overwhelming sound — one that was accompanied by a persistent, painful throb on the side of his head. It made him not dare to open his eyes as even the heavily filtered light that touched his closed eyelids felt blaring and agonizing.
It’s surprising that, only half an hour ago, he was feeling the exact opposite of this as he frolicked around outside, feeling as if he was floating on clouds whilst he bathed under the sunlight. Even now — despite feeling as though his lungs were a gust away from collapsing and his body trembled from the lack of oxygen it was receiving, and despite the fact that he’s been slipping in and out of consciousness for about an hour and a half now — the feeling still lingers in his chest.
He wishes — for once, he wishes for something; for this feeling to remain. That he was given a choice, one that granted his wish, even if it were at the cost of this heavy pain and discomfort staying too. It wouldn't be his first time dealing with it, after all.
The nurse had been talking to him at some point — or at least he thinks she was. At the very least someone had spoken to him, and he had only assumed it was her because, after the incoherent murmurs ceased, he was suddenly shifted to sit upright where he felt the familiar outline of her palm as it gently grabbed his arm before it shifted to feel his forehead.
The nurse’s office had become like a second home to him. That singular bed with its stale, cold pillows and sheets and matching walls was such a reoccurring sight for him, in fact, that he could locate things around the room with his eyes closed without trouble.
The nurse and her smile was commonplace for him, so much so that it was permanently engraved into his brain along with the rest of her face. Moreover, he sees her so often that he’s even able to pick up on her little habit, her micro-expressions, and even her thoughts at times.
When she’s calm, her smile is kind of flat, but when she’s happy about something, her smile stretches just enough for her cheeks to puff and her smile lines grow even more noticeable. When she’s feeling something called stress, she tends to run her hands through her hair — always starting at the top of her scalp, but never making it to the tips as she usually stops midway to pull it over her shoulder before removing her hand from her head entirely.
Whenever he’s brought to her, the corner of her brows dip and her eyes droop like her smile does, but in the blink of an eye, it'll adjust to match her calm expression.
She tends to hum while she works when she’s in a good mood and work in complete silence when she’s in a bad mood. She likes the office tidy enough that she can walks around without worry of tripping over things, but not so neat that it hides the fact that someone's been working in there for multiple years. For example, she likes to fiddle with trinkets when she’s bored or stressed and has little objects scattered across the bookshelf in the corner of the room for that very purpose in mind.
He never really thinks about what she may think of him exactly, but at the very least, she doesn’t seem to mind his almost constant presence.
Despite the faces she makes when he initially arrives to her office with his medical emergencies, she’s always polite. She’ll talk to him while she works and would even play this game ( …what was it again…patty cake? ) with him when she wasn't filing out medical reports, tending to others kids, or calling parents. Not only that, but she also lets him curl up in her lap whenever she’s at her desk, shares her snacks, and was also the one who gifted him his inanimate companion — his Rubik Cube — and taught him how it works, which has now become apart of his daily routine.
Alas, he can never seem to remember her name. All he can recall that it’s something that starts with an S… Was it Nurse Star? Nurse Shimmer?
“Nurse Shine!”
Ah, that's what it was.
“Ah, little… Luka is…—”
“Is….okay?!”
“Yes…. …still a bit… Please..—”
He couldn’t really hear what was being said. His ears were clogged, burning hot, as if he was submerged in a pool of molten lava. One would think the feeling would’ve been intolerable, but having been pushed into this fire once before he felt, more or less, unbothered by it and simply waited for the feeling to fade.
Moments later the room went silent again, and Luka assumes that whomever it was that disturbed it in the first place was gone. He expected to hear the familiar lullaby Nurse Shine tended to hum or possibly felt the temporary relief of her cool touch on his forehead once again, but instead, he suddenly felt someone — much smaller than Nurse Shine and with twice as many hands as her — yank him forward and embrace him.
“Luka…!” he heard them wail into his left ear, their voice pitchy and small before then feeling them bury their face into the crook of his sweat-dampened neck. On his right, another head rests on his shoulder. One of their shaky hands rooted in his hair and forcing him to nuzzle in their neck as they buried their nose into the other side of his neck.
This warmth that enveloped him — so much different than the lava-like fire — felt like a rope wrapping around his body and snatching him to safety. Though, he could still feel the aftereffects from being drowned in such an uncomfortable feeling for so long, it was thrown to the back of his mind the moment the connection was made.
The realization that this wasn't one person with many arms and heads, but two people — two kids. The same two who had been running around with him in the playground with a bunch of others. The same two who had begun sitting at the large tree everyday during recess — the same two who were the first to approach him, talk to him, and play with him. The same two whose eyes light up brighter than the sun that blinds him every afternoon whenever they look at him, filling up his cold, dead body with their warmth whenever they invade his personal iceberg of a bubble.
…And that sudden awareness of just who these people are has Luka's eyes shooting open. Has his hues growing small from suprise yet bright with joy. Has his lips moving to whisper their names — the only names he's managed to remember without issue.
“...Y/n..? Till..?”
His eyes burn, feeling as though wooden stilts were lodged in his sockets, but as Y/n and Till pull back from him one after the other and his eyes lock on the sight of their iris jewels — which float amongst a moat of unshed tears and anguish — the feeling is quickly forgotten and replaced by an entirely new feeling. One he’s never felt before now. One he can’t name or place on a scale. One that makes him feel as if his heart had just begun beating for the first time ever.
“Luka..”
He can hear them so much better so close like this. He’s glad for that since it allows him the pleasure of hearing every little crack Y/n’s voice makes — sounding similarly to glass being nicked away piece by piece with a knife.
It sounded so broken, so different from its usual energetic symphony, and it was all because of him. Only because of him.
“Luka…I- I.. I’m..s- so sorry…! Sorry, Luka—! 'm sorry..!”
“We didn’t… Why didn’t you tell us you were sick?! I- If we’d known, we wouldn’t have..” Till practically barked his words out, yet it wasn’t aggressive with anger. He could tell because the dips in his tone give way to the truth that hid behind his heart. A truth which he could tell was breaking the organ in half and pouring its bloody grief out into his words, soiling them and turning them sorrowful.
Till was sad. Though more composed than the blubbering mess Y/n was, he was no doubt upset. Deeply. So much so that he was trembling all over from the sheer agony that he was trying to contain. In fact, Luka's sure that if he breathed the wrong or pretend to slip back unconscious, Till would be reduced to the same stammering waterfall that Y/n is right now.
Part of him was tempted to push him, yearning to feel his hot tears fall upon his cool skin and wondering if those alone could heat it. The other half of him resisted, not because he saw it cruel or sadistic, but instead because he wished to ask a question that was scratching at the forefront of his mind.
“Why are you both crying?”
Y/n stayed glued to his shoulder, too busy drowning in their own tears to comprehend his words, but Till wasn't as hysterical and could decipher his question.
“What..? Are you serious?!” Till’s voice shifted to that tone that he was much more familiar with. That tone that was full of sharp teeth and pent up vials of anger and frustration. That tone that makes him believe that, any second now, Till was going to suddenly hit or punch or scratch him. Maybe Till wanted to, but Luka's current state left him hesitant.
Who knows.
“You passed out in the middle of our game and started twitching like crazy! You scared us so bad that we.. We thought..”
Till trips and stutters and Luka watches as the anger fizzes out like steam until he's sputtering. He assumes that the cycle would just repeat and that Till would find some newfound fire to shoot at him in the form of harsh words, but that never happens. Instead, his temper flattens out completely.
“We…” Luka’s golden lashes flutter as his eyes widen at the sight of Till's eyes welling up with tears for a second time. Tears that don’t easily fade and build high — high enough to pour over his waterlines and fall down his chubby cheeks in thick clumps. Till must soon realize this, because he pulls away from the boy completely to hide his tear-stricken face with his arm.
“We thought..—!" he snivels, "…We thought we lost our friend…you jerk! Why else would we be upset?!”
“You think we’re friends?” Luka asks — though it was meant to come off less as a question and more so as recognition and acknowledgement of what his teary statement meant to him as his brain finally fully processed that he had found companionship. That Luka — lonely, sickly, pathetically depressed-looking Luka — had found friends.
Friends who ran around and played with him. Friends who smiled and giggled with him. Friends who hugged him and nuzzled up to him and let him do so in turn. Friends who were overcome with fright at the very thought of his disposable being taken from them. Friends who likely suffered from just as much pain emotionally as he is physically because of that fright he gave them. Friends who are currently acting so out of character simply because he passed out.
Friends…who were truly his and his alone for nothing and no one else to claim.
He truly, for once in his entire worthless existence, could call something his — and two people at that! Y/n and Till…were all for him and him alone!
That thought made that same feeling he felt earlier return and intensify tenfold, and for the first time ever, Luka felt the sting of his cheeks turning red as they were pushed aside to make way for his lips, which were stretching to form a big smile — something he once only read about and never imagined he’d ever be able to do.
It was the best, most intense, most addictive feeling he could’ve ever felt. A feeling he yearns to drown in and never come back up for air. A feeling he longs to get lost in. A feeling of being cherished and loved — by not one, but two people — and so much so that the mere thought of losing him could ruin them and rob them of ever feeling connected to the whimsical feeling of happiness again.
…And it was in that moment that Luka realized that what he had felt — that emotion that sent his heart into overdrive, that got his breath kicking, that had his mind going blissfully blank of any thought unrelated to them — was love. Deep, addicting love that will probably never fade, even when the day comes that he truly does draw his last breath..
…and Luka couldn't be happier.
Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx