Chapter Text
ii.
Even shakes hands with everyone, and smiles kindly when the boys introduce themselves. He nods when Eskild asks him to just sit and watch for this practice, and just seems generally thrilled with this arrangement. Isak hates it. Well, Isak does not hate it, but he sure as hell is not thrilled. At least he feels less stressed about the whole situation now.
Of course, there is the fact that he still does not know how Even dances (although he must be good if Eskild invited him to the group, let’s be real), and he also does not know if the boy will fit in with their mismatched group.
What he does know is that Even is distracting. Not purposely so, but distracting nonetheless.
The boys have to prepare two routines for the competition: one for the first eliminatory round, and another one to perform in the final round, if they ever get to it. Isak is quite proud of the choreography for the eliminatory round, it is his and Eskild’s lovechild: they have spent countless hours on it and the group could perform it in their sleep.
As for the other choreography, well, that is a bit trickier. Isak wanted something more intense, more jaw dropping, and Eskild and him were trying to find just the perfect mix to ensure a good shot at the trophy.
It just was not an easy feat.
Anyways, they need to show Even what they got, as he has no idea what they have been working on, and try to fit him in their choreography in the next two weeks. Isak is not exactly confident that they will pull this off, but he intends to try anyway. Isak steps up, front and center, and the boys take their spots behind him. Eskild turns on the music, and counts down “5, 6, 7, 8.”
They have arranged a nice upbeat choreography that highlighted all of their strong points, and had picked a Bruno Mars song to go with it, so that it could resonate with the crowd.
At first Isak is the only one who moves, then the boys appear from behind him, their moves synchronised as Isak glances at them in the floor to ceiling mirror of their practice room. Isak is always in the middle, his moves smoother and more well practiced then the others'. For the first half of the song, they alternate themselves, two and three at a time, and when they get together near the end is just so much fun. They know each other, and they know their moves, and they just work so well together. Isak enjoys it a lot, and judging by the smiles on Jonas, Mahdi and Magnus' faces, they do too.
They end with their back turned to the mirror, heads all facing their right side.
There’s loud clapping, and Isak turns around, a bit red in the face from the exertion. Even is smiling, if possible, even brighter than before, from where he is sitting on the floor, and his eyes are sparkling. Isak has to tear his gaze away. The boys all pat each other on their backs, as they always do when they are happy with their performance.
Isak is carefully trying not to stare at Even, so he does not even notice that he has stood up. “Do you guys mind if I give it a try?” he says in his low voice.
“Sure bro, go for it,” Magnus says, and they all politely step aside.
Even pulls up his hoodie over his head, which has to be the most extra thing Isak has ever witnessed in his life. He can barely contain himself from rolling his eyes.
Eskild turns on the music and counts down again. Even just looks at his reflection in the mirror.
Goddamnit.
What the fuck. What the actual fuck.
Even is moving and all they can do is stare in stunned silence.
“What.”
“Did you show it to him before, Eskild?” Jonas asks. But Eskild just shakes his head, while looking like he is just about to burst with pride.
Even is smiling sheepishly in their direction. His eyes are crinkling.
Isak is quiet. He has just witnessed this guy, who has stepped in this room not longer than 20 minutes ago, go through their choreography almost perfectly. Not only that, but he had danced Isak’s part, the one that never left the stage, the one that took front stage and served to pull all the members together. Also what he did not remember (as that would have been too much), he made up with better and smoother moves. What the actual fuck.
Magnus breaks the silence by asking Even to show him in more detail one of the changes he had just made to the choreography. Isak slides close to Eskild. “Aren't you a little bit offended?”
“I definitely am a bit offended." Eskild says, matter-of-factly. "But, I am also very proud of shocking all of you boys with such a good new member.”
Isak shakes his head. “Do you remember how long it took us to create this choreography? And thirty seconds in, this guy just throws improvements all around? Who is he?”
Eskild chuckled, smiling knowingly. “You know what, you shouldn’t be too offended, he used to be a choreographer for other groups, so that explains it.”
Isak is still a little bit offended. He is also a little bit relieved.
The rest of the practice continues smoothly, Even catching up rather quickly to their choreography, and contributing in ways that makes the new addition fall right into place with the others.
Although Isak still holds most of his initial reserves, he finds that there is nothing he can hold against Even, really. The boy observes each one of them carefully in the mirror, and dances along with only few mistakes along the way, and even those, man, they look just damn nice. (Fuck him).
Isak is sitting on the bench after practice, a towel on his head and staring at the wall ahead of him. He is going to have to seriously consider how the choreography will work with five people now. They might need to rearrange a few things around.
Jonas sits down next to him. “I think Mags is already in love with him.” He says, only half jokingly. He nods towards where Magnus is covering Even in more and more inappropriate questions. Even barely answers half of them, it is not like Magnus even gives him the time, though. Oh, and Even is looking at Isak, straight on. Piercing blue gaze and all. His hair all soft and curly from the shower. It is quite the unnerving view. And Jonas is still talking to him. Well.
“… kebab?” Isak nods. There is not much one can say against kebabs.
“Yo, Even?” Jonas asks, voice a bit louder. “Wanna come for kebabs with us?”
Before Jonas can even finish the question, Magnus is already covering all of their thoughts by shouting something along the lines of: “oh, man, you just have to come with us! It will be so much fun! We’ll all get to know you better!”
Fun, Isak rolls his eyes. If he were Even, he would have already run the fuck away from their assorted set of weirdness. The boy, however, does not seem to mind. In fact he does not mind at all, as he gives them the most genuine of smiles when he says that he will come.
————
“Sooo, Isak is the grumpy, talented boss, Jonas is the self-aware but chill, actual boss, Mahdi only cares about girls and waffles, but will crush you in freestyle, and I am, of course, the brains.”
They are sitting on two benches facing each other, their kebabs in various states of half-eatedness on the table between them. Mahdi, being the one sitting closest to Magnus jabs him hard in the ribs.
“Don't listen to a word he says,” Jonas smirks, without any real heat behind it. They all clearly love Magnus in their own ways.
Even laughs. “I do believe Isak is grumpy, though.”
Isak’s eyebrows skyrocket. “I am so not grumpy,” he protests.
Just as the others are saying: “True,” “so grumpy,” and “the grumpiest.”
Isak scoffs. “This group would fall apart without me, you said so yourselves.”
“You still grumpy, though.”
Even went to school to Elvebakken, and he almost transferred to their school in his third year, but he apparently managed finish high school there. Even is two years older than the other boys. Even is a film and media student. Even was a choreographer for another group that is participating in the competition, although he will not tell them which one. Even has never participated in the competition himself, only his routines. Even will not tell them how he met Eskild. Even laughs out loud when asked if he has slept with Eskild.
Even offers Isak a joint when the others get into a pretty heated argument about assuming someone else’s sexuality.
“You guys are quite passionate about a lot of things,” Even notes, chin pointing towards the others.
“So are you,” Isak says, as he takes a long drag.
Even chuckles. “I guess.”
They smoke in silence for a while. And Isak finds himself strangely comfortable. He does not usually responds to new people so well, but Even seems like an exception.
“Are you liking it here so far?” He asks. If Even notices that what Isak is really asking is if he is liking them so far, he does not point that out.
“Yeah,” he whispers. The joint hanging between his lips, his eyes forwards. “As I said, you’re passionate about things and you also seem to be very good at it.”
Even is looking directly at him now, and Isak does not feel nervous or on edge, he does not mind if in all his staring Even finds something in his eyes that he would usually try to hide. Man, this shit is good.
“Man, this shit is good,” he says, and Even just laughs out loud, his eyes getting all crinkly at their sides.
Isak just hopes he is not too unguarded.
Isak and Even take the same bus home. The other boys wave at them from the opposite side of the street as they hop on and sit next to each other. The windows are all fogged up, making the lights outside look faint and far, far away, just bobbles of orange and white light that tremble in the dark. Isak stares at all the passing lights, some pop song is stuck in his head and he starts bouncing his head softly to the beat. He catches Even looking at him in the reflection, a soft smile on his face.
When Isak gets to practice the next day, he is not the first one to get there for the first time in a long while.
He checks his watch to make sure: he is half an hour early.
Yet music is pounding in the room, and it is not the one from their choreography. It is some popular song that Isak cannot quite place. He moves closer to the room, curious to who might be in there. He thinks it might be Magnus: sometimes, when he is feeling particularly insecure, he comes in before everyone to practice some more. Jonas was sometimes here early if he was worried about Isak and wanted to talk to him, yet this was not his kind of song, unless he was going to dance with the others to it. Isak cannot recall the last time Mahdi was here early. It was probably that one time he had taken the wrong tram and ended up here two hours before practice, but was too lazy to go home and get back again later. Eskild was generally sharply punctual, but never early.
The person in the room right now is none of them, of course.
It is Even.
And he is dancing with such abandon, and with music pumped so loud he does not notice Isak standing by the door, observing him slack-jawed. He is trying the same moves again and again, making them smoother, making them flow from one to the next in a seamless manner.
He is as much in his element as Isak usually is when he does his thing. Yet Isak can tell that where he usually has rougher edges, Even can be soft one second, and tough another, making everything somehow work together. At one point he stops, restarts the music and starts anew. This time it seems he has everything under control, and after an admittedly stunning performance, he comes at the end with a peaceful look on his face.
When he turns around to shake the hood off his head – which he had put on again, the dork –, and his eyes land on Isak, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Before he can say anything, Isak blurts out. “I just got here,” and brushes past him and into the locker room to hide how emotionally involved he had gotten in Even’s dancing.