catalog of unkept promises

"I didn't say you disappointed me," Till says, poking Ivan's ribs with his blunt fingernails. Once, Ivan tried drawing guitar strings on their chipped surfaces to get Till to stop biting their edges. Maybe if they resembled what you loved the most in the world, you would stop chewing on them so, Ivan had reasoned, after Till had gotten angry. To this day, Till hasn't told him that he was off in his guess, if only by a little. Till does love the guitar. Loving it the most, however, is impossible, given the existence of other, much more frustrating entities. "I'm not your teachers or your classmates or your father, remember? Use a different word, maybe."

"Disillusion? Disenchant? Dissatisfy?" Ivan suggests, raising a finger with each new term. Till tries to keep staring at him unblinkingly. "Has anyone ever told you that you resemble one of those little dogs that try to bark up a storm every time they encounter a dog twice or even thrice their size? I must say, you do share their disposition."(Or: Ivan misses a few movie nights. Till decides to corner him with quite a failed kabedon.)