Chapter Text
En
Even believed that epic love was love that killed you because he hoped it’d be what killed him.
It’s on the first unofficial movie night of theirs (Even keeps insisting that they should be held on Tuesdays, while Isak remains set on Sundays), a Thursday, that Isak asks something that’s been nagging on him for a little while.
“Movies,” Isak says, effectively breaking the silence between them, reaching for the remote to pause the movie playing on the TV.
“Yes?” Even’s leaning up against Isak’s chest, planted in between his legs, both of them tucked under a blue blanket that Even’s mother got for them.
“How did you get into them?”
The question causes Even to go on a ten minute monologue about the first movie he ever watched and that gave him a “ wow, movies ” - moment, and how he kept exploring the world of indie as well as romance, and how that then shaped him into the person he is today.
He’s turning around in Isak’s arms, eyes lightning up and the corners of his lips turning up. Isak’s threading his fingers through Even’s hair, watching as it curls around his fingertips, then bounces back into place as he lets go. It’s all just... warm.
“So you were eleven?”
(Isak tries imagining an eleven year old Even. He can’t. To him, eleven year olds are gross , and Even- Even is very much not. )
“Yeah.”
“Huh. The tragic romance thing, then, how did that happen?” Isak asks, and the momentary warmth is gone. He feels Even’s body tense, and sees how Even’s picking at the loose skin around his nails. Isak puts his hand over Even’s, though, stopping the movement. “You’re going to complain about it later, when you wash your face.”
Even smiles gratefully at him, then, but only briefly, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in, then slowly letting it back out.
“It’s just a lot, is all. I wasn’t in a very good headspace, back then.”
“You don’t have to tell me, you know. It’s in the past, and you can choose to keep it there,” Isak whispers against the side of his head, tightening the grip around his boyfriend.
“No, no, I want to, I just. I need to come up with what to say.”
“Okay.”
A minute or so passes, before Even finally speaks.
“My first manic episode. It wasn’t at the time that I got diagnosed, it was, like, a year and a half earlier, I think, and it wasn’t like the one in December. Not at all. It was a small one, but I still felt invincible, and I remember thinking that if I jumped out the window, it’d be a romantic and epic ending to Sonja and I. That we’d be forever. I didn’t jump, obviously, but I watched every tragic romance I could find. Then I did that for, like, the rest of time. Convinced myself that epic love was the type that killed you. Wasn’t super keen on life right then, as you probably could’ve guessed.”
Isak exhales into the silence, not knowing what to say. Even’s strong, he knows that, and he knows that Even knows how Isak and words are not a match made in heaven, but still . He doesn’t want to hurt Even, even if by accident. He wants to say something, but not something that will screw things up.
“Do you still think that?” is what he ends up asking, because it’s the only thing that he can come up with.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t believe our love is going to kill us,” Even says, and he rubs his nose against the side of Isak’s head, kissing behind his ear.
It’s cheesy as hell, but Isak can only hope that Even’s right.
To
Even knows how to knit - not just the basics, either, he’s like good.
It’s the beginning of June, a few days before graduation for Even, and instead of spending the night out partying, he’s sat in bed, holding his fucked up and selfish boyfriend who’s also the worst son in the entire fucking multiverse, probably-
“Hey,” Even says quietly, nudging Isak with his shoulder. “Don’t say that about yourself. You’re better than that, we both know that.”
“Sorry,” Isak sniffles, a little calmer than he was a few minutes ago, but it’s still- it’s still raw, like a fresh wound.
Even hums, hugs Isak a little closer to him. “She’s going to love whatever you give her, you know.”
Isak gets a sudden impulse to scream at him, then, but he buries it and groans, “I fucking know, but she’s been through so much and I- I know that she’s not a very good mother, but she’s still my mom. I just want her to feel taken care of, once in a while.”
And it’s true. Marianne hasn’t accepted professional help yet, but Isak’s been there - they’ve both been there - and they’ve fed her, taken away sharp objects from the house, cleaned the few wounds she has had. It’s not ideal, and they’re not there very often, but they’re reaching out - Isak’s reaching out - and Marianne seems to slowly but surely reconsider the idea of getting help.
It’s probably the closest Isak has been to his mom since Lea passed away all those years ago, and while he knows that normal is relative and not actually all that, well, normal, he still wants them to be mother and son. Have that relationship where he can take her out to dinner and spend a night there every once in a while.
Anyway, a beginning to such a relationship, he thinks, is to give her something for her birthday. He knows that everyone in his life gives their mom something for her birthday, and he’s secretly jealous. Always has been.
And now- now it’s six days away and he doesn’t have a clue about what to give her.
“Isak. Listen to me. She’d love whatever you give her. You could give her a rock and she’d put it up in a window somewhere, so she could admire it for, like, the rest of time.”
Realistically, Isak knows that Even’s right - however , it still doesn’t calm the wave of anxiety pulsating through him.
“I just- I want her to know how much I love her,” Isak mumbles, and Even must sense the anxiety he’s feeling, because he puts his arms tighter around Isak’s trembling body and leans his head against Isak’s t-shirt clad shoulder.
“I can knit something for her, if you’d like. Or I could show you how to do it.”
And- what?
“What? You know how to knit?” Isak’s voice is still weird from all the crying he’s been doing, but he cannot believe- “ Knit?”
Even only nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t know? I thought I’d told you?”
He definitely hasn’t, Isak would remember that, and so he tells Even as much.
“I haven’t? Huh. I could swear that I told you. Anyway, yeah, I could help you knit something.”
And see- they promised each other back in February, after a particularly bad night for both of them, that they’d try to stop comparing themselves to one another. But now- now Isak can’t help but think that Even’s way too good for him. Even has just finished his exams, and should celebrate being a soon-to-be high school graduate, but he’s still offering to help.
“Even. I uh, I can’t let you do that,” Isak says slowly, as something deep in his stomach twists at the thought of being not good enough for Even (and for his mom, and Jonas, and most of his friends, probably).
“Why? It’s not like it’s some hardship for me. I enjoy knitting, and plus, I need to get on Marianne’s good side. I can’t have her dislike her only son in law!”
Well, when he thinks about it, maybe he can let Even help. Just this once.
(Marianne loves the colorful bookbag Even knits for her. When Isak tells her that he wasn’t the one to do it, and he’s sorry for not having a gift for her, she pulls her into his arms and calls him the best gift God could have ever given her.
It’s a good day, in Isak’s books.)
Tre
They’re three weeks from going to Morocco, and apparently, Even’s terrified of needles.
“Yeah, but babe, the risk of us actually getting sick is very, very small. Pretty much non-existent, really. I don’t think we should go and vaccinate ourselves.”
It’s the second hour of this, and Isak is over it.
“Even, you’re an adult, you can choose not to go and get the vaccine, but I’m doing it. It’s time for me to renew it, anyway,” Isak says, and sighs when Even twists in his seat.
“But I probably should, right? Like I could, theoretically, die if I got sick.”
“Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want.”
“On the other hand, we could get sick from the vaccine, and have to stay home.” Even’s stalling, and while he usually does it so smoothly that Isak doesn’t even think about it, this time it annoys the shit out of him.
“Mhm.”
“What do you think, should I renew it?”
“You’re twenty years old. You can do whatever you want.”
“Would it be a good idea to renew it?”
“Even. Why can’t you just go and get the damn shot if you so want to?”
“I’m just considering my options here!”
“Evy, baby, the man of my fucking life, why can’t you just make up your mind?”
Even goes quiet, at that, and looks out the window, face carefully blank. He opens and closes his mouth multiple times before he speaks, “It’s scary, is all,” is what Even ends up saying, and Isak, well, Isak laughs.
Then, he sees how Even’s eyes scrunch together, like he’s embarrassed, and Isak stops. He’d never try to make Even feel embarrassed, ever. Doesn’t matter if it’s silly or not - Even’s probably the person who least deserves being embarrassed like that, at least Isak thinks so.
“Needles?” Isak asks, and he tries to not sound condescending, he does.
Even takes a shaky breath in, and turns to Isak. He looks pale - which, yeah, Even is kind of pale naturally, but this shade of white is one Isak’s never seen on Even before. It looks almost green.
“Yes. I’ve never liked them.”
“Didn’t that fear, uh, disappear as you got older? Especially after the- uh…” Isak trails off, his face heating up. He probably went over the line. He’s good at that.
“The suicide attempt?” Even helpfully supplies, speaking in a monotone. “Yeah no. Surprisingly, you won’t get over your fear of needles after having lots of them shoved into your arm after you tried to kill yourself.”
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But still. Didn’t it ever go away?” The small curdle of guilt in his stomach, over having said something he wasn’t supposed to, isn’t as big as it usually is. Maybe he’s gotten better at accepting his faults, but it’s probably just because it’s Even.
“No. I don’t even know how I got it. I remember that I had to get my blood drawn when I was like three or four, and almost fainted. Since then it’s been hell on earth, basically,” Even says, a small smile tugging on his lips. He doesn’t look ashamed anymore, not when Isak’s accepted it, he just looks tired of being afraid.
Which- yeah, Isak can definitely relate.
“Huh. Would it, uh, would it help if I was with you, if you decide to go and get the shot?” Isak asks him, drawing circles on Even’s left hand, which he’s managed to tug onto his lap.
“I don’t know, maybe. As long as you’re fine with maybe having to carry me out of the room.”
(Even does get the shot, in the end, but it’s after a panic attack and after being promised a blowjob).
Fire
Even can’t fold sheets.
They’ve been living together for six months, and are coming up on their one year anniversary - so really, it shouldn’t be as annoying as it is.
But yet it grates on Isak’s nerves more than any of the other annoying habits Even has.
Because yeah, it’s annoying when Even taps his pencil against the table as he works, yes it is annoying that he always forgets to buy something because he got so distracted by everything else.
Those things are a bit cute, at least.
This is really really not.
Because when their sheets are down in the laundry room, and Isak’s starting to use their second set of sheets to make the bed, he doesn’t want to have to pull out their duvets and their fitted sheet. No, he wants to be able to lift them out in an organized order - folded, as they should be.
But no, since Even was the last one that brought the laundry up, the sheets are tangled together and are taking up the entire drawer, causing it to almost get stuck. Isak almost falls backwards when he’s trying to get the sheets out.
Isak has talked to Even about this, multiple times, but he always gets the same answer.
“I try, but then I get so frustrated and I just end up giving up,” Even always says, and he always says it with the same pout on his face, so really, Isak can’t be blamed for always giving in and giving Even a kiss.
This time, though, this time he’s had enough. Isak is going to wait until Even gets home from his shift at KB, and then he’s going to confront him.
Isak huffs out a breath, gathers the sheets in his arms, and waits.
When Even gets home an hour later, and Isak has happily responded to Even’s, “Hey honey, I’m home!” (because he has to, okay? He can’t not answer like that), he stands up and makes his way out into the hallway.
Even’s just starting to untie his shoes, and placing them on the rack, and Isak decides he’s just going to do it nicely and calmly.
Until Even opens his mouth.
“God, we really need to organize it here, it looks like freaking Chernobyl happened here.”
Isak’s very, very, very little patience has officially been torn, and now he’s seething.
“Why can’t you fold the damn sheets every once in a while?” Isak all but yells, and the guilt that he’s expected to have come shooting at him comes in bouts of anger instead. He’s not ashamed for being a bit mad at Even, this time. He sees it as progress
“The sheets? I’ve told you, it’s hard to fold them,” Even says, pouting, and Isak has to focus on a point behind Even to be able to stay on topic. Even’s just a bit too cute, sometimes, and Isak can’t help that he’s easily distracted, okay?
“Can’t you just learn how to do it, then?” Isak sounds madder than he really is, and he’s also a bit riled up, but Even’s smile falling hurts more than it probably should.
“I’m sorry, Is, okay? I didn’t really think it bothered you this much. I thought it was only a little joke. I’ll try to get better, okay?”
Isak only huffs out an answer, and then he stomps away into the kitchen, leaving a confused Even in his wake as he slams the kitchen door.
It’s when he’s opening the second chapter of his physics textbook that a knock on the door pulls him out of his thoughts, and has him closing his book.
Even’s on the other side of the door, a sheepish smile on his face. “Come,” Even says, and, well, Isak’s always been bad at denying Even things.
Out in the main room, their duvet has been folded into a heart. It’s not the first cheesy thing Even has done for him, and it’s far from the last, at least if Isak gets to decide.
“I’m sorry for not folding the sheets,” Even says, and Isak doesn’t even feel a twinge of the anger he felt earlier. It’s all been washed away and been replaced with pure adoration for this boy.
Behind Even, in the drawer, the sheets are still messily shoved, but really, Isak can’t be bothered.
It’s kind of cute, really. He can’t ever not love something about Even, anyway.
Fem
Angry Even is Scary Even, at least that’s what Isak comes to find out, just a few weeks short of their second Christmas together.
Just like Isak said to Eva; when it’s bad, it’s very bad. Things are rarely very bad for Even and him, mostly it’s just small spots of “less good but still fine”, which then get resolved into something very, very good again. It’s never been very bad, really. There’s been downs, sure, but it’s always been them against something else, and not them against each other.
This time, however, is different.
It all started when Isak got a part time job at the library, which caused him to be home less and less. In the beginning, it wasn’t a problem. Even had his and Isak had his, and when they got home all time could be spent together. Isak always did all of his schoolwork at the library, arguing that Even simply was too distracting, so their home was, most of the time, a stress free zone.
Then, Isak’s dad started asking him about university, and talking to him about the importance of good grades. Then both Even and him started working on their university applications. Isak started studying more and more, and his time at home got less and less. Even’s questions about Isak’s whereabouts got answered more aggressively as time passed, and in the end they weren’t talking at all.
It all comes to its breaking point on a Friday in November, when Isak doesn’t come home. It was a long time coming, really, and he knows that he shouldn’t avoid going home but it just- it’s hard. Even and him rarely fight, but just that same morning they had had their first actual fight. Like a fight where they fought each other. It was their longest conversation in two and a half weeks.
And it’d been about Isak “leaving all the chores to Even”. Isak, of course, remained set on the fact that he had been doing the things he was supposed to do, just as much as Even did. Even did not agree.
Their disagreement resulted in a shouting match which probably would’ve resulted in a noise complaint or two if their neighbors weren’t all half in love with Even. Anyways, now Isak’s not home, and his phone’s been going off the entire night.
Even Kosegruppa <3
Even (18:06): Hi baby <333 I’m sorry for this morning, I shouldn’t have put the blame on you. I made dinner for us, when are you coming home? Elsker deg
(18:13): Is there a party tonight?
(18:30): I put the pasta in the fridge. It’s waiting for you and so am I :))
(19:02): Please answer, I’m worried
(19:21): I’m sorry again. Please come home
(19:57): I’ve called everyone and they say that they haven’t seen you. Where are you?
(20:28): I’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you
(20:59): Please just tell me you’re ok
(21:21): If you want to take a break or smth you should at least have the guts to tell me face to face
(22:29): I’ve gone over to the Kollektiv and they haven’t heard from you either. Please call me. I love you
(23:44): Your read receipts are on. Fuck you.
“Fuck,” Isak groans, throwing his phone down beside him. He’s at Jonas’ house, the place that used to be his home away from home for god knows how long. It’s not the place he flees to anymore, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Dude, seriously. Call him. He’s called at least a dozen times, because he’s worried sick!” Jonas is annoyed with him in a way he rarely is anymore, and honestly, Isak can’t fault him for that. Isak fucked up, big time. He doesn’t do that a lot anymore, not when he doesn’t hate himself all that much, but well. Things change.
“I just- It’s all going to end up in fights and I don’t want that. I’m trying to save our relationship by just staying here and letting it all settle down,” Isak says, shoulders sinking in defeat.
Jonas sighs tiredly, “Is, you do know that if you don’t talk to him soon, there won’t be much of a relationship to save?”
“You don’t know how our relationship works! This is better for us, I swear.” He doesn’t swear. Isak’s pretty sure he’s wrong this time, but he also knows that it’ll be okay. Even never gets truly mad, so it’ll be fine. It’ll all blow over, they’ll promise not to do it again, and then move on. It’s always how it goes (maybe that’s not a “healthy relationship” or whatever, but Isak doesn’t care).
So he spends the night at Jonas’ house, and leaves to go home by noon the next day. Jonas sends him off with a pat on the back and an all knowing smile, “Tell me how it goes,” he says, and Isak rolls his eyes. They’ll be fine.
Isak walks into the apartment, expecting to be greeted by a wide eyed and regretful boyfriend to kiss, but instead the apartment’s empty. It’s totally quiet, except for the sounds from the streets below where cars are honking and people are running around, leading their own lives as Isak’s up here, alone.
“Even? Baby?” he calls out, only to get no response. Usually, Isak loves the quiet. It’s his preferred space, really, but he wouldn’t ever wish for quiet without Even. Even’s not been home before, of course, but this time’s different. It’s pretty clear that this time, Even’s running from him, and it breaks Isak’s entire being in half.
“Ev?” Isak keeps calling out into the apartment, even though he’s checked every room three, four, five times with no success. He keeps calling out for his darling because he’s afraid. He’s afraid that this is the time Even won’t come back to him.
Even Kosegruppa <3
Isak (12:48): I’m at home where are you?
(12:51): I’m sorry about yesterday pls come home
(12:57): Pls come home so we can talk
(13:01): I hate myself too. come home
(13:05): I’m sorry
(13:13): I love you i love you i love you
And because Even’s a thousand times better than Isak will ever be, he comes home. He comes home fifty two minutes after Isak’s first text, but he does so silently. He barely looks at Isak when he enters the apartment, and then sits himself down at the dinner table, opens his laptop - all without another word to Isak.
“Baby?” Isak whispers into Even’s hair, hugging him from behind, “We need to talk.”
Even doesn’t answer, he doesn't even move, so Isak hugs tighter, tighter, tighter until there’s no room to breathe. Even shrugs him off, and Isak feels the cold spread in his chest. His vision blurs and his entire being aches. He just really wants Even’s warmth around him again, he can feel the phantom touch of Even along his arms and down his back.
Isak dares to run his fingers in Even’s hair, messing it up as he goes, even though he knows the touch is unwanted. He’s a stupid man who does stupid things. Even shakes his head and sneers, “Fuck off, Isak.”
Even’s never been this cold, never been this mad at Isak. It’s not the first time they’ve fought, of course. They love each other, sure, but they’ve been living in scarily close quarters for quite some time, and sometimes things just flare up. It’s never, ever, been this bad, though. Isak gets mad, a lot, but Even just gets frustrated, at most. (Even’s too good for him, he really is.)
“I’m sorry. Okay? I’m so sorry.” Isak’s trying to not sound like he’s begging, even if that, admittedly, is what he’s doing. Isak needs to show that he’s mature, too, that he can take conflict, too.
Even shuts his computer and walks out of the room. He doesn’t even pretend to care about how Isak almost cries as he pushes off of his chair and slams the kitchen door behind him. It’s dead silent in the apartment, so silent that Isak almost wishes that Even wasn’t home.
Then, at least, Isak doesn’t need to worry as actively about the breakup talk that will surely come as soon as Even calms down and starts thinking about his mess of a boyfriend. Isak’s never been this scared, ever. He’s always been left behind, so he’s used to it, he is, but he didn’t ever think that Even would be one of those who leaves him.
Even’s promised, multiple times, that he won’t ever leave him. That it’ll “always be the two of us, Is, always.” Isak’s always tried to object, but as time has passed, he’s stopped really objecting, it’s been more like him teasing Even because he’s the cheesiest there is. He never should’ve stopped objecting. This, the actual part where he is actually being left, would probably hurt less then. Would probably sting less if he was expecting it. This is the kind of shit that happens when he lets his guard down.
The day goes on without much more. Even’s cold, and silent. Isak tries to talk to him, to touch him, to make him scream, anything - but nothing works. Even’s seething with anger, and Isak’s being eaten up by guilt. It’s not just being out too late this once - it’s everything he’s been doing lately. Coming home too late and barely paying attention to more than his notes when home.
His education is something he prioritizes, yes, but so is Even. They’re no longer at a stage where they can choose to take a break from each other, or just decide to not see each other for, say, a week. No. They’re living together. A cohabiting couple is what they are. Both of them are in it for the long run, so it’s something they have to prioritize.
That’s not to say that he’ll just stop caring about school - absolutely not - but maybe he could spend at least a fraction of the time he spends focusing on cells and organs focusing on Even, instead. Just the thought of him having spent the last month or so distancing himself from Even triggers so much anger inside of him, all directed at himself, it almost feels like he’s going to burst.
He takes a walk to clear his head, and when he comes back, the apartment’s dark and silent. The snow from outside is brightening it up some, but it’s still way too dark for either Isak or Even’s liking. Which can only mean one thing. Even’s left.
Even must’ve taken advantage of the time Isak spent away from the apartment, packed his bags, and gone to stay with his parents. There’s probably a note on the kitchen table; I’m leaving you, Isak, because you are the worst boyfriend (and person) in the world. A note that Isak will just have to accept as his final goodbye because-
Oh.
Even’s in bed. He hasn’t left. He’s there. Curled up in their sheets, facing the wall, body tense, but at least he’s there.
Isak believes in fate, and that everything that happens does so for a reason. He chooses to believe that this is his chance to make it right, and to make it last.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Things aren’t alright yet, but they will be.
Seks
It takes both of them by surprise. Things had been so, so good since Christmas, and Even finally felt stable - normal, as he likes to say, despite Isak’s protests about there “being no normal”.
So when Even says, just a few days before his twenty-first birthday, “Is, I’m slipping,” Isak’s a bit surprised. He goes through all the possible causes for this slip to happen: Has Even been drinking more? Smoked? Been through a lot of stress or changes?” before he stops himself, and looks over at Even. What caused this doesn’t matter, what matters is Even.
“That’s okay. Is there anything we should do to prepare?”
Even’s mania is something Isak can handle. Sometimes it takes sleep from him, and sometimes it hurts him, but at least Even’s happy. He’s up and going. He might be a bit too up and going, but at least he’s up instead of down.
The down part, though, is different. It’s something that reminds Isak so much of his mom, and the days she’d spend in bed, right before coming up and starting to chant about the devil and the evil spirits in the walls. The down part is the part that has Even so, so, so down that Isak goes down with him.
He hates spending his days next to a quiet Even, who doesn’t accept any of the things being given to him. He hates it all. He doesn’t hate it because it’s a bother, or an inconvenience - he hates it because his happy Even is down and doesn’t think he deserves any of the things being given to him. He hates it because it’s at those times that Even hates himself.
He can’t help but worry about how Even isn’t eating, and about how Even’s looking a bit too skinny. He just worries. He worries about most things, really, and when Even’s down, it’s only more.
Isak’s not stupid, okay? He knows that Even won’t be magically cured just because Isak pulls aside the drapes or buys their favorite pizza (family sized - half pineapple for Even, and half kebab for Isak), but it helps calm Isak. It helps him see that things are under control, and that everything’s normal.
He doesn’t expect Even to get better by his doing any of these things, nor does he expect Even to even notice. That is why, when he gets back into the living room from having unpacked the groceries, he can’t help but be surprised at the sight of Even hauling himself up from bed, and grabbing the small plastic box of pizza salad from the dining table. He’s even more surprised by the fact that Even slowly but surely opens the box, grabs a fork, and starts to munch.
Not a lot at the same time, but small, small pieces of salad.
“Hi,” Isak says, trying to stave off the surprise in his voice, but probably not succeeding. “I didn’t know you were up.”
Even only looks briefly at him, shrugs, and then goes back to staring into space as he chews on the thin, thin pieces of cabbage.
It’s not a lot, but it’s enough - more than enough - for Isak.
The day after that, Isak brings Even a cheese toastie right before he goes to school, but it’s left uneaten. When he gets home, he gives him a bowl of grapes. That, too, doesn’t get eaten. Isak, who is a scientist at heart, then goes and buys a pizza from the pizza place down the street, and includes a pizza salad despite his hate for them.
When Isak comes back up with the pizza and the salad, Even only turns his back to him.
That doesn’t stave off his curiosity, however. The day after that, as he’s on his way to the tram, he decides to get a pizza from the same place he did the other day (a homey place that he’s been to with Sana once or twice, that offers halal meat), gets a pizza, some salad, and finally heads home.
Even eats the salad, and smiles a bit in thanks.
It means the world.
Sju
Even’s celebrity crush (as well as sexual awakening, which Isak does not understand) was John Lennon.
“I can’t believe that now, when you have your own driver’s license, you won’t even use it!” Even whines, for probably the hundredth time since they left Oslo.
“Hey!” Isak says, scandalized. “This was your gift to me , mister. You bought us the tickets, which means you are responsible for taking us there.”
It’s true. The thing about Even getting the tickets is, at least. On May 17th, when Isak and his friends were partying their asses off for russ , Even had surprised him with two tickets to Roskilde.
“A graduation gift for my hard-working love,” Even had said, Isak had preened, and the rest is history.
So here they are. On their way to Denmark, with Even in the driver’s seat of a rented car, and with Isak in the passenger seat, who has long since claimed to be the master of road trip music.
“But baby…” Even whines, jutting his bottom lip out in attempts to look cute.
It succeeds. Really, Even’s always cute, so Isak’s kind of used to it by now, so he just looks out the window and rolls his eyes, trying to hide his grin (he doesn’t manage to do so).
“Ev, you were the one who insisted on stopping in Gothenburg for a few days. This is on you. I would have been fine with taking the bus.”
“No, you wouldn’t’ve.”
Also true.
It’s not like taking the bus would be some huge, huge, deal to Isak. It really wouldn’t’ve been, it’s just- it’s just the fact that it’s disgusting. There are probably a lot of germs on those buses, and there’s not enough legroom for him, especially not for both of them. It usually smells like shit, too, and the other people on the bus are always super weird.
So, long story short, Isak doesn’t like the bus.
“It’s disgusting, I told you!”
Isak can hear Even rolling his eyes.
“Yes, so you’ve said. You could still drive, though. You were the one who was so adamant on taking the car, after all,” Even huffs, but Isak can hear the smile in it.
Even’s not annoyed, not really. Isak would know. When Even’s annoyed, there’s a bite in his voice that always makes Isak’s stomach twist.
“You like driving, stop whining. We’ll be in Gothenburg in, like, an hour and a half. That’s nothing.”
Isak’s never been in Sweden before, even though it’s only a few hours away. Even’s been there, has family in Gothenburg that they’re going to visit, even. Isak’s barely been outside of Norway. He went to Spain when he was eight, to Germany when he was twelve, and then he went to Morocco with Even. His family weren’t poor, not at all, but his mom didn’t handle flying very well.
“Fine,” Even groans dramatically. “You will just have to entertain me, then.”
“Let’s play fuck, marry, kill.”
Isak was never a fan of party games, has always thought they were boring and childish, but since getting together with Even, he’s played more rounds of Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever (strip version), than ever before. It’s their thing. The fact that they almost always end in sex and cuddles does not have anything to do with why he likes it, not at all.
However, even if they don’t end in sex and cuddles, it’s still something he enjoys doing with Even. It’s just nice, to talk about those things with someone he’s so comfortable with, and who he trusts with everything in him.
“Great idea. You’re so smart, baby,” Even says, and even though it’s over exaggerated, Isak preens under the attention.
“I’ll start. Beatles, Queen, and, what’s the name, uh, Rolling Stones.”
They’re turning onto another road, and Isak looks at how Even’s arms flex a bit with the movement and just stares.
“Going british now, are we?” Even says in English, with the worst fake British accent Isak’s ever heard, but it still makes him want to do things to Even (his boyfriend is hot, okay?).
“Yeah,” Isak agrees distractedly, eyes still on Even’s arms and his mind replaying the sound of Even’s deep voice.
“I’d marry The Beatles, obviously.”
And- what?
He tears his eyes away, and just stares at Even. “What? Obviously?”
“Yeah? John Lennon was my sexual awakening, my celebrity crush. Still is,”
“ John Lennon? ” Isak asks, convinced that he must have heard wrong.
“ Yes . He’s kind of handsome, in a hippie sort of way.”
Huh. The more you know.
Åtte
Even wants to marry him. Like, soon. It shouldn’t surprise Isak as much as it does.
The last box is packed, and they’re spending their last night in Oslo out on their balcony, watching as the sun inches closer and closer to the horizon.
“I’m so excited for the future, baby, but…” Even says, putting his glass of white wine down with a clink, “I’m also really going to miss Oslo.”
“Same. I want to get away, though, I need to get away. I’m tired of always thinking about mom when I pass by Sagene, and about dad whenever I’m down by the harbor,” Isak answers, eyes set on the end of the street, where he can see the traffic lights turn yellow and eventually red.
Isak’s still a strict beer drinker, but Even’s gotten a taste for the finer things in life, so he always buys a bottle of wine for himself. Sometimes they smoke, too, but now cigarettes instead of weed. They’re a bit more sophisticated now, one might say.
They don’t smoke often, though, because they’re both terrified of becoming addicts (Even more than Isak, probably), but every once in a while. Not at parties, but on nights like these. When their thoughts are going a bit too fast, and they’re thinking about all that makes them a bit sad in life.
This night is one of those, so Isak puts a cigarette between his lips, lights it, and inhales without even asking Even if he wants it, too. He probably does - and if he doesn’t, well, Isak likes smoking.
“It makes it less scary to leave, though, when it’s with you.”
Even says it so calmly, like he doesn’t understand how much it warms Isak to hear that. He’s heard it before, but it still makes him warm. Feels like a bit of a hug for his heart.
“Yeah,” is all he can say, only moving closer to Even so he’s sitting under his arm, up close to his side, and gives him the cigarette.
Then it’s quiet. It’s the type of quiet they both enjoy, bask in, when it’s just the two of them and their thoughts. Secretly, those are some of Isak’s favorite moments.
He likes every moment with Even, of course, but moments like these, where they’re just passing a cigarette between them (he likes them, okay, sue him), sitting closely together, and just being. Isak’s always liked the quiet, but he likes it more when it’s with Even.
“Do you think you’ll come back to Oslo?” he says, silently exchanging the you with we because he can’t phantom a universe where they’re not together for the rest of time. It’s not very minute per minute of him to think so, though, so he doesn't say it.
“Do you think you’ll come back to Oslo?” Even retorts, and Isak can see where this is going. He should be annoyed that it’s not a real answer, but he loves Even too much.
He just answers honestly, “Maybe.”
“Then maybe I’ll come back.”
“Really?” He feigns surprise, but some of it is real, despite that he knew that this is where Even was heading. He still can’t believe that Even’s so happy to spend his life together with him.
“Really. Wherever you go, I go.”
“That’s not very minute per minute of you.”
“No, but it’s true. The only thing, though, is that we come back here, we should be Mr. and Mr. Bech Næsheim.”
And that’s not something they’ve really talked about. Of course they’ve talked about it, you can’t really spend as much time together as they do and just not talk about it, but Isak’s not really thought about it.
“Yeah? You want to marry me?”
“Of course. You’re the man of my dreams.”
(They don’t live in Oslo ever again, but four years later, they put Bech N æsheim on their door instead of Valtersen/Bech Næsheim.)