Chapter Text
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2016
10:07
Even still hasn’t texted him. And it’s not like he’s waiting for Even to text him, but, like, it would be kind of nice. And it’s not like he’s spending half his time checking his phone, but, like, you know how it is. He’s seventeen and he likes a boy.
Which, actually, is an interesting concept. Does he like Even? And not to sound like a five-year-old, but does he like like Even?
Half of him is still pissed as fuck at how Even handled the whole Sonja situation, all the miscommunication and misconceptions and literal hell that he went through. That half of him definitely does not like Even. But that’s half. And the other half really, really, really clearly remembers how Even’s lips felt on his, and how Even’s muscles moved underneath his hands, and, speaking of movement, how Even moved inside of him…
He doesn’t get out of bed for another hour.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2016
16:17
“Have you eaten today?” Eskild asks conversationally, breezing into the room.
Isak blinks. He’s laying on the couch with some superhero movie playing while he messes around on the Instagram explore page.
“Uh… I had a piece of bread earlier,” he says, and as he says it, he realises how pathetic it sounds, and Eskild looks at him with a mix of pity, disgust, and concern on his face.
“I’m ordering Chinese takeout,” Eskild says. “Want me to get you orange chicken and you can give me cash?”
“Yes, please,” Isak answers quietly. Eskild looks out for him and it makes him feel like a shit person half the time, but he knows that if Eskild knew that, he’d give Isak a stern lecture about his value as a human being, and so the voice of reason in his head has the same rise and fall to it as Eskild’s.
Isak switches between Instagram and Facebook and the games on his phone until the food arrives, and then he hands Eskild his money and takes his chicken and goes to disappear into his room.
“Hey,” Eskild says, “eat with me in the kitchen?”
Isak considers it for a second. “Okay, yeah.”
“Yeah?” Eskild sounds a little surprised. Isak shrugs and offers him a little smile before heading into the kitchen.
The two of them eat in a comfortable silence.
“So,” Eskild asks, “have you gotten any calls back from psychologists?” He’s intentionally avoiding eye contact with Isak and Isak knows, and he’s grateful. Eskild always looks at him with so much love that it’s overwhelming sometimes.
“I got a couple,” Isak answers carefully. “Still trying to figure out my schedule and, like, if I want to go.”
Eskild spoons some more rice onto his plate. “Isak, my dear, I’m not going to force you to do anything. But I will say that I think that it is an incredibly good idea for you to talk to someone, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Isak says, quiet as he takes a bite of chicken. “I just don’t want to be crazy.” And he says it with a roll of his eyes and a little hint of a smile, but he’s dead honest because he thinks it’s his worst fear, and telling Eskild makes his heart jump and his lungs seize up and he waits for Eskild to reply with bated breath.
“That’s dumb as shit,” Eskild says matter-of-factly.
Isak blinks.
“Like, first of all, that’s a shit way of approaching mental health. Everyone has issues, you know? And it’s all about handling those issues and the way that you interact with yourself and the world around you, and I’m not saying that you need to be in therapy forever, but, like, you have a lot going on right now, baby gay. And a psychologist can help you figure out how to cope and give you the tools you need to function.” Eskild picks up a piece of broccoli with chopsticks and waves it, eyes softening as he looks at Isak. “Getting help isn’t a sign of weakness, Isak. It’s a sign of strength.”
Chewing at the inside of his cheek, Isak takes a second to think. “Yeah,” he says eventually, “That sounds right.”
“So you’ll call them back?”
“I will,” Isak says, offering Eskild a gentle smile.
Eskild grins back. “Awesome.”
They finish their food and wash dishes together, side by side in the kitchen, and Isak doesn’t have his shit together yet, but he’s getting there.
He’ll get there.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2016
11:55
Isak spends his Sunday catching up on homework and studying, and he straightens up his room a little bit, putting in a load of laundry and opening his curtains to let the light in.
He works on biology for a few hours, taking a break to open up a bag of (not stale) Doritos and grab a glass of water. He makes progress. He understands concepts. And he’s been avoiding it for a while, but today he’s thinking about his future a little bit, and he thinks he wants to do something with bioscience. It’s the only thing he’s really willing to put in the work for.
Jonas: (14:04) Hey man how’s it going
Isak: (14:05) It’s going
Jonas: (14:05) Oh?
Isak: (14:06) I’m working on school shit
Jonas: (14:07) Damn same
Jonas: (14:07) You good though? Gonna be in school tomorrow?
Isak rolls his eyes, a gut reaction, but he appreciates it more than he thinks Jonas knows.
Isak: (14:08) yeah
Jonas: (14:09) Cool, just checking
Isak slides his phone to the side and continues to flip through his textbook.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2016
16:39
“Hi, this is Isak Valtersen. I, um, called a little while ago about setting up an appointment with Dr. Olsen?” He winces a little bit and presses his nails into his palm.
“Hi!” the woman on the other end of the line answers, chipper. “Dr. Olsen actually just had a cancellation on Wednesday, so I can put you in for an introductory appointment then, if that works?”
It’s all happening so fast and Isak grabs for a pen and a sticky note. “Yeah,” he says, holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear, “what time?”
“It’d be at fifteen,” she says.
“That’s good,” Isak says, scrawling therapy 15 wednesday on the paper.
“Great! I’m entering it now. You know where our office is?”
Isak nods as he says, “Yeah, I’ll find it.”
“Perfect,” the woman answers, and Isak can hear the clicking of a keyboard. “The appointment will be an hour long. If you need to cancel, we require twenty-four-hour notice. Other than that, you should be good to go.”
“Okay,” Isak says. “I’ll, uh, see you Wednesday, I guess. Thanks.”
“Of course! Bye, now.”
“Bye,” Isak echoes with an exhale, and he hangs up.
Well. That happened. It was surprisingly easier than he thought, too.
He sits down on his bed and runs his hands over his jeans. Yeah, he thinks. Yeah.
Eskild: (16:50) Home for dinner tonight?
Isak: (16:51) no, I’m going to be at Jonas’s
Eskild: (16:51) Give him my love!!!
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2016
14:56
Isak has successfully filled out all the paperwork required for his appointment and he’s currently sitting in a chair in the waiting room, biting his nails as he scrolls through Instagram.
“Isak Valtersen?” a voice says, and Isak jerks his head up to find an older man with a kind face standing in the doorway of an office.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he says, scrambling to his feet.
The man smiles gently and gestures for Isak to come into the office, so he does. It’s comfortable, a leather chair sat facing a blue couch, lights low and warm.
Isak gingerly places himself on the couch.
“I’m Dr. Olsen,” the man says, settling into the chair with a clipboard on his lap. “For a first appointment, I’d just like to hear you speak for a little bit about what brings you in, if that’s alright.”
Isak nods and swallows, his throat dry.
“Yeah, uh, I just have a lot of stuff going on right now and my friends thought I should talk to someone, so, yeah, I’m here.”
“What kind of stuff is going on?”
“Just, like, normal teenage stuff,” Isak says, shrugging.
Dr. Olsen levels him with a gaze. “That sounds to me like you’re downplaying.”
“A little bit,” Isak admits, shifting his weight. “Um, recently, things have been kind of going shit. Oh, fuck, can I swear?”
“You can,” Dr. Olsen says, smiling.
“Right, yeah, so my dad put my mom into the hospital and some girl outed me at school, and I’ve been having trouble with my schoolwork and my attendance and my sleep, and then there’s this guy and things are really complicated with him, because he may or may not have a girlfriend? Well, he doesn’t, but it’s, yeah, it’s complicated.” He pulls at one of his curls and shifts his weight again.
“That certainly does sound like a lot.”
“I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be doing here,” Isak admits. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Okay, well, the first thing I want you to know is that everything you say here is confidential unless I think you or someone else is in immediate danger. The second thing I’d say is that this is a safe place. My approach to therapy is based on working with you to give you a place to heal and grow in a healthy way, which right now just consists of me getting a good understanding of you as a person and building a relationship with you. If it doesn’t work out with me, I can give you recommendations of colleagues who might be a better fit. Does that help?”
Isak nods. “Yeah, it does.”
“Okay,” Dr. Olsen says with a smile. “Now, you said that your mother’s in the hospital? That must be stressful for you.”
Isak scratches at the back of his head. “Yeah, like, growing up, she was always struggling with her mental health, I guess, so I’m glad she’s getting help, but I also feel, like, an insane amount of guilt for moving out and leaving her alone.”
“Do you feel like moving out was a healthy choice for you?”
“For sure,” Isak says, and the answer comes with a certainty that surprises him. “My dad left when I was fifteen, which ended up putting a lot of pressure on me to take care of my mom, you know? And he and I never had, like, a good relationship to begin with.”
“It sounds to me like you had to raise yourself, in a way.”
“Yeah, I guess. My friends help a lot, though.”
Dr. Olsen tilts his head. “Tell me about your friends.”
“My best friend is Jonas. He’s been my best friend for, like, six years now, and he’s always been there for me no matter what. And then there’s Magnus and Madhi; we got to know them more this year, but they’re awesome. There was one point where I was really struggling, like couldn’t get out of bed kind of struggling, so Jonas and Magnus came over and cleaned my room and got me out of bed, and, yeah, that was really good.”
“It’s good that you have such a strong support system,” Dr. Olsen says, making a note on his clipboard. “I’d like to hear more about what ‘struggling’ sounds like for you, though.”
Isak shrugs. “It’s not, like, all that bad.”
“Downplaying,” Dr. Olsen points out.
“Sometimes I can’t sleep,” Isak admits. “And Magnus thinks I’m depressed, because, like, I don’t get out of bed and I don’t really do a lot, like I’ve lost interest in a lot of things, and I guess I don’t really feel like myself a lot of the time.”
Dr. Olsen leans back in his chair a little bit. “Do you think you’re depressed?”
Isak shrugs again. “I’m not, like, sad.”
“Depression isn’t always sadness,” Dr. Olsen says gently. “Sometimes it can be feeling isolated, feeling lonely, feeling like you don’t matter. Sometimes it’s just a sense of feeling distant from everything around you, even yourself.”
And that hits hard for Isak. He blinks a couple times, twining his fingers together, and he says, “Yeah, I guess I feel like that a lot.”
Dr. Olsen nods. “A lot of people feel like that, Isak. You’re not alone.”
“How do I, like, stop feeling like that?” Isak asks, feeling dumb as shit as he does.
“You have options,” Dr. Olsen says. “I can’t prescribe you medication, but I can refer you to someone who does.”
“No,” Isak says firmly. “I don’t want to be on medication.”
“Okay,” Dr. Olsen nods. “In that case, you can continue with therapy. I think you’re a great candidate for talk therapy, in which you come in and we can discuss everything that’s in your head, and I can give you some coping mechanisms for when you’re not here.”
“I’d like that,” Isak says, quiet but sure.
“You mentioned that you were outed at school. How did that feel? How did you deal with it?”
“It felt like shit. At one point I, like, blacked out and couldn’t really breathe because I realised that this guy knew I was gay, and Jonas was there, and he helped a lot, but then the guy told some girl and I had to go to school and I ended up on the bathroom floor and it was just, yeah, it was mess.”
Dr. Olsen frowns a bit. “It sounds to me like you had an anxiety attack,” he says. “Has that ever happened before?”
Isak nods. “I’ve felt like that when my parents were fighting sometimes, or when my dad flipped shit and punched the wall, or when my mom was really bad and she was having delusions and stuff.”
Dr. Olsen writes something down. “Anxiety can be debilitating. Do you do anything to pull yourself out of that mindset?”
Isak thinks for a second. “When I started to feel like that at school, like, in the bathroom, I ended up hitting the wall a lot, and that helped. But it made me feel like my dad a little bit.”
“Your dad punches things out of anger, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s very different from using pain as a grounding technique.”
“I guess.”
Dr. Olsen makes another note and then looks up at Isak, his face lined but soft, and he says, “Isak, I think you’re an incredibly strong person. You manage things the best way you can, but I’d like to help you figure out some techniques that work for you. Being here is the first step, and I’m proud of you for going through with it and asking for help. Therapy takes a lot of work and commitment, but it can help you, and I hope that you continue with it. I’d recommend that you come in about once a week if you can. I want to make sure that you’re comfortable with me as a therapist before we go ahead and schedule any future appointments.”
“Yeah,” Isak says, nodding. “I feel like I want to keep going with you.”
“Okay,” Dr. Olsen says with a smile.
They talk scheduling for a bit, figuring out what times work for both of them, and Isak ends up with a Thursday appointment for next week, a step-by-step list of a breathing exercise to help with anxiety, and a sense that things might be okay until then.
When he leaves, Dr. Olsen shakes his hand warmly, saying, “I’ve really enjoyed meeting you, Isak. Be sure to call if you need anything between now and next week.”
“Thank you,” Isak says, and he means it genuinely.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2016
17:15
Eskild flings open the door and Isak’s laying on the couch, flipping through Netflix.
“How did it go?” Eskild asks excitedly, and Isak can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.
“Really well,” he answers.
“Yeah?” Eskild says, sounding surprised. “Did you actually talk about yourself?”
“I did.”
“Hot damn.” Eskild comes over to the couch and curls his body over Isak’s, wrapping him in a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
And that makes it twice today that someone’s been proud of him and Isak feels warm at the thought, like he’s doing something right, like he’s worth the love and pride that Eskild feels for him.
“Get off,” he grumbles with a laugh, “you’re killing my arm.”
Instead of moving, Eskild drapes his entire weight onto Isak, squeezing even tighter. “Hugs are healing,” he declares.
“Ugh.”
Isak doesn’t mind.
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2016
12:47
“You have got to stop eating my food,” Isak tells Magnus firmly.
“But it tastes so much better when I steal it,” Magnus whines.
Jonas and Madhi are arguing over weed prices and Isak’s half listening, most of his attention focused on the way Magnus is still taking food off his plate with his eyes wide and innocent, and Isak’s laughing when he hears the voice behind him.
“Can I sit with you?” Even asks.
The boys all freeze and look to Isak for guidance.
“Yeah,” Isak says, moving his chair. “Pull up here.” He gestures to the open space beside him and Even grins wide, swinging a chair up to the table and sitting in it backward, straddling it.
“Hi,” he says to the rest of the group, “I’m Even.”
“We know,” Magnus mutters, and Isak kicks him under the table.
“What are you guys up to?” Even asks, taking a sip of his water and Isak is very consciously not looking at his lips.
“Bullying Isak,” Magnus answers.
“That’s just you, bro,” Madhi says, shaking his head.
“We’re trying to come up with plans for this weekend,” Jonas tells Even, nodding towards Madhi, who grins wide.
“Vodka and weed, boys,” Madhi says.
“Great combination,” Even jokes. “I actually know someone from Bakka who’s hosting on Friday if you guys are looking for somewhere to party.”
Magnus’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “I am most certainly looking to party.”
“Yeah?” Even says, smiling. “I’m having a pregame at mine at 19:30.”
Madhi, Jonas, and Magnus all look toward Isak again, Magnus’s eyes pleading.
Isak shrugs and takes a bite of his cheese toastie. “We’re down.”
“Cool. So far it’s just you guys for the pregame. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly know a lot of people here,” Even says, teeth flashing as he laughs a bit, and Isak smiles at him.
“You know me,” he says quietly.
Even’s face softens as he looks at Isak. “That I do,” he says.
After a few long seconds of the two of them looking at each other, Jonas clears his throat.
“Even, do you need us to bring anything?” he asks.
Even shrugs. “I’ve got weed and beer at mine, but I could always use some more.”
“Chill,” Jonas nods. “We can get that.”
“You mean I can get it,” Isak says, rolling his eyes. “I’m the only one with a roommate who can buy us alcohol.”
“Isak can get that,” Jonas corrects.
“Oh, I forget how young you all are,” Even says, nudging Isak with his elbow, teasing.
“How old are you?” Madhi asks.
“Nineteen.”
“Oh, shit, yeah, I guess we are young,” Magnus says.
“Or I’m just old,” Even shrugs.
“That too.”
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2016
19:32
Isak: (19:32) We’re here
Even lets them into his place with a joint tucked behind his ear and he reserves a special smile for Isak, whispering, “Hi,” all low and sweet and Isak almost dies on the spot.
“Beer in the fridge,” Even says, nodding to the kitchen, “and we can smoke in my room if we keep the windows open.”
“Sick,” Jonas says, slinging the case of beer over his shoulder and heading into the kitchen while Even leads the way back to his room.
Isak likes Even’s room, likes the posters and drawings on the walls, loves how it’s like an expression of Even himself. His own room isn’t like that, he realises. He’s got some shitty memes and pictures hung up, but it doesn’t really fit him, and he thinks it’s because he’s always afraid his dad is going to cut off his rent money and make him move out. He’d like to be able to settle in somewhere.
Isak sits cross-legged on the ground and Even stretches out beside him, legs bumping together.
Magnus and Madhi start rolling joints, arguing over the best method, and Madhi ends up taking over because Magnus can’t roll for shit.
Jonas comes in and tousles Isak’s hair, knocking his snapback off in the process, so Isak flips him off, and then it’s all of them lounging in a circle with smoke curling around their heads and hands waving and Isak somehow finds himself leaning into Even, Even’s arm slung over his shoulder, comfortable and safe.
Isak’s pleasantly high by the time they leave for the party. Jonas and Madhi walk in front of the group, and Magnus is right behind them, bouncing back and forth and trying to rap NWA, except he only knows the line fuck da police , so he screams it and then makes noises for the rest of the words.
“You good?” Even asks. Isak smiles, slow and gentle, and nods.
“Yeah, real good. You?”
“Never been better,” Even says with a grin.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2016
21:14
The high’s worn off so Isak grabs a beer and cracks it open. He finds his way through the crowd and ends up in the bathroom, curling up in his usual spot in the bathtub, drinking with his head tilted back against the tile. He likes being alone here, where the lights reflect off of white walls and the tub feels cold against his legs, and he lost the boys a while ago. Jonas was talking to some girl, per usual, and Magnus and Madhi were trying to organise a game of beer pong, and Even was off catching up with the host of the party, so it’s Isak alone in the bathtub.
He finishes the beer and checks his phone.
Even: (21:19) Where’d you go?
He realises then that he and Even have both texted each other today, and he wonders if either of them has their shit together, and then he decides that he doesn’t give a fuck. Right now, he wants to talk to Even, so he will.
Isak: (21:21) upstairs bathroom
The text has barely finished sending before the door is opening and Isak knows it’s Even before he looks up.
“Figured I’d find you here,” Even says quietly, cracking a grin.
Isak shrugs and smiles back. “I like bathtubs.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Moving over to make room for Even, Isak tucks his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them.
Even folds himself into the tub, slinging his legs over the edge and his shoulder just barely brushes Isak’s.
“Not the most comfortable, is it?” he asks jokingly, and Isak huffs out a laugh.
“Yeah,” he says, tilting his head so he can look over at Even, “but it’s better than whatever’s going on out there.”
Even nods. “Last I saw, Magnus was giving Madhi a piggyback ride and they looked like they were about to break something.”
“Sounds about right,” Isak says with a dramatic sigh.
“I like your friends,” Even says, gently bumping against Isak.
“You can have them,” Isak shoots back.
Even is silent for a second, looking like he’s trying to make a decision, and then he quietly says, “I’d rather have you.”
Isak takes a deep breath.
He’s tired of this. He’s tired of all the complicated shit, all the flirting and kissing and never really knowing what Even wants, so he makes it as simple as possible.
“You do,” he says.
And then Even’s kissing him in a bathtub, his hand on the side of Isak’s face, and Isak grabs at Even’s shirt to pull him closer.
Tongue and lips and teeth as Isak bites at Even’s lower lip and he’s kissing Even desperately, like he’ll never get to again, like he’s been waiting to do this forever, because he feels like he has. He feels like this is finally real. And he feels wholly present, aware of all his nerve endings, like his body is his own and he is in complete ownership of it.
“Do you have your shit together?” Even whispers with a smile, his lips moving lightly against Isak’s, and Isak pulls back just enough that he can see Even’s half-lidded eyes.
“Getting there,” he says honestly.
“Yeah,” Even answers, “me too,” and then they’re kissing again, slowly now, like they have all the time in the world.
Isak lets Even set the speed and it’s as if Even is worshipping him, gentle, his thumb lazily tracing patterns on Isak’s cheek.
Isak tries not to think. That’s probably where he goes wrong most of the time, his mind overworking, all the gears turning too fast. So he lets himself focus on the moment, on the sensation of Even kissing him, on the feeling of the bathtub beneath him and the sounds of the party going on downstairs.
There’s banging on the door. “Stop fucking,” someone yells, “I have to piss .”
“Oh, shit,” Even says as he pulls away.
“Jump out the window,” Isak suggests.
Even shrugs. “Or,” he says, “we can walk out the door like normal people.”
And Isak takes a moment to think about the implications of that because someone would see them together, see his hair all fucked up and his cheeks pink, know that they were doing Not Heterosexual Things and that’s a lot.
It’s a lot, but he thinks he’s ready.
So he stands up and offers Even his hand. Even takes it and doesn’t let it go and joined together like that, they open the door.