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Isak doesn’t even know the guy’s name. They’d been matching each other tequila shot for tequila shot at a bar one minute and tugging each other’s clothes off in Isak’s bed the next, with almost no time in between. There’s a part of him that knows this isn’t sustainable, that his heart wasn’t made to weather this many random hookups, but for now, as he’s still recovering from years of being stuck in the closet, it feels like a giant fuck you to the scared kid he’d been back then. It’s like liberation, a little bitter on his tongue, but freedom nonetheless. Seventeen-year-old Isak, who had been terrified enough to consider staying in the closet indefinitely, had never expected to see this version of himself flourish.
That’s nice to think about in the abstract, but when he has whatever the fuck his name is snoring next to him in bed, gross morning breath permeating the air between their faces, all he can think about is how to get him the hell out.
Isak pokes him in the side experimentally, but he refuses to stir. He snores even louder, if anything, and all Isak can do is stuff his face into the pillow and groan. He should’ve insisted they go over to the guy’s place instead, but Isak’s had been closer, and his judgment had been impaired by the alcohol. He peeks at the clock, and groans again. It’s almost 7, which means Even will be up soon, and what are the chances of this guy sneaking past him?
As if summoned, Even bangs on Isak’s door. “Isak, your clothes are everywhere, and I have friends coming over soon.”
“I’ll pick them up in a bit,” Isak yells back. Even always does this – bothers Isak at the most inconvenient times. It’s like he’s honed in on the most embarrassing moments possible – when Isak is popping a pimple, trying not to cry because his mom is sending him pictures of the cat she just adopted, explaining to Eskild the incident from the other day, when he’d been genuinely worried that a condom had slipped off in his ass.
It’d be infuriating if Even weren’t such a genuinely nice guy. He’s the kind of person who brings flowers every time he meets his mother and donates his spare money to charity. He’s even nice to Isak, and Isak’s well aware of how difficult that can be, especially when he’s in one of his moods. The other night when Isak was pulling an all-nighter to finish an assignment for his Genetics class, Even had whipped up a plate of his famous scrambled eggs at three in the morning. They’d sat together for an hour eating in silence, and he’d even poured Isak a fresh cup of coffee before he went to bed. Even’s a far nicer person than Isak will ever be.
Well, he’s a nice guy except for the fact that he’s an irredeemable homophobe, as Eskild would so kindly put it.
But it’s not a thought Isak likes to linger on first thing in the morning.
The guy next to Isak yawns, and blinks blearily. “What the hell?” He clutches his head. “Fuck. What did I drink last night?”
“Half the bar,” Isak says dryly. He has a vague recollection of the guy continuing to throw back shots even when Isak had stopped, but honestly, he’d been so far gone then that the memory is almost too blurry to make out.
The guy looks him up and down, and even though everything but Isak’s bare torso is covered by the comforter, it’s enough to have him blushing. This guy had seen it all last night, but it feels different in the daylight, when they’re both sober enough to make coherent decisions. The guy’s cute, objectively, with his curly brown hair and blue eyes, but Isak’s not quite sure he’s a decision that Isak would make again, especially when he places his hand on top of Isak’s on the comforter.
It’s too intimate for a one-night stand, too intimate for Isak, who’s the kind of fool who can’t get his very straight roommate out of his head.
“I had fun last night. We should do this again, Isak.” The guy winks. It had looked charming last night, but now it’s just sleazy.
“Um.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you look gorgeous lying in bed?”
“Thanks, dude,” Isak says. The guy stares at him expectantly, probably wondering whether Isak’s going to tell him that looks even moregeous in bed, but he’d be waiting for a while.
When it’s clear that Isak’s had ample practice playing the silent game, the guy grabs the roll of toilet paper and a pen from Isak’s bed and scribbles down a number. He places it in Isak’s palm, wraps his fingers around it. “For when you need another fun night,” he says. He presses a kiss to Isak’s forehead, and Isak can’t get over how chapped his lips are, how different they are from how he imagines Even’s to be, especially after he’s been biting his bottom lip red. They’re full and soft, and if Isak were given the chance, he’d drown in the taste of them for as long as Even would let him.
He’s so fucked. If he thought he’d ripped off the “crushing on your straight friend” Band-Aid in high school, the universe obviously has other, horribly shitty plans for him.
Isak doesn’t let out a breath until the guy leaves his room, and he waits thirty more minutes before he ventures out the door himself. Thank God the guy hadn’t lingered in the apartment, because all he sees when he pokes his head through the kitchen doorway is Even sitting there drinking orange juice, typing furiously on his laptop. His glasses are slipping down his nose, but he’s too focused on his laptop to focus. He looks unbearably touchable with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, but Even isn’t his. He isn’t even someone Isak should want.
When Eskild had given him that uncomfortable as hell gay talk, he hadn’t taught Isak how to handle crushing on someone who would probably never speak to him again if he found out. Eskild doesn’t even know about this, only knows Even as the friend of a friend who he’d unfortunately recommended to Isak as a roommate.
Look how well that turned out.
Isak clears his throat, and Even jolts to attention. He squints at Isak over the top of his computer, and God, Isak keeps reminding him to get his prescription adjusted, but there’s something adorable about this anyway.
“Good morning,” Isak says.
“Hi,” Even says dryly.
“I’m sorry about the clothes. It was a, uh, busy night, and I didn’t really think – “
“Don’t worry about it. Julian explained the situation to me,” Even says, his voice brittle. When Isak furrows his brows, Even rolls his eyes and says, “You didn’t even know his name, did you?”
“I was drinking a lot?”
“Seriously, you should ask for people’s names before you sleep with them. That’s not even safe.”
Isak grits his teeth. “Look, I don’t need you judging my life decisions. I’m just going to make myself breakfast now.”
He heads over to the cabinets, but before he can even get one open, Even says, “Julian took a banana on the way out.”
“So?”
“I just bought those bananas yesterday. And I don’t need your hook-ups stealing them.”
“It was one fucking banana.”
“That I bought, with my own money.”
The thing is, Even would have no problems with Isak stealing his bananas. Isak’s sure he raids Even’s stock of food more often than he does his own grocery shopping, and Even has never commented on it. He’d even smiled the last time he’d caught Isak sneaking a granola bar into his backpack for lunch between his lectures, and had teased him about how they’re still healthier than his normal meal of chips.
Even only does this with the men Isak brings home. There’d been Daniel, who’d been his first one-night stand ever, then Lars, who he’d actually gone on a few dates with, then Cody, who he’d hoped could turn into a real boyfriend, but that hope had been crushed as soon as Isak had caught him in bed with his ex-girlfriend. When they’re around, Even is all curt greetings and heated glares, and he can never quite look Isak in the eye for days afterward. It’s a never-ending cycle, and Isak is so goddamn tired.
“Are you going to see Julian again?” Even says suddenly.
Isak slams the drawer door closed. “I don’t know. Why does it matter to you?”
“I care about what happens inside my own home.”
He may not actively want us dead, or whatever, but if someone is genuinely uncomfortable with your sexuality, they’re a homophobe. There’s no getting around it, Eskild had said, and if Isak keeps reminding himself that, then he can get through whatever’s left of his lease. He only has a few months to go, and after that, he can forget about Even with his dumb fucking hair and his dumb fucking smile and his dumb fucking way of making Isak feel like he’s in high school all over again, experiencing his first crush.
The full knowledge that Even hates people like him isn’t enough of a deterrence, and Isak hates himself for that, a little bit.
“Do you hate gay people or something?” Isak snaps. He’s surprised to hear the words coming out of his own mouth, but it’s like a dam breaking. Even may make him feel like he’s regressed a couple of years, but he’s not that scared teenager anymore. He’s done too much soul-searching, gone through too much shit, to ever put himself in that position again. “Maybe I should’ve warned you before we decided to room together, but I think I keep my business pretty private.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then Even’s face contorts into the most pained expression Isak’s ever seen on him. “What the hell? I’m not homophobic.”
“Then why do you act so weird about me being gay?”
Even rubs his forehead. “I’m bisexual, Isak.”
And oh. Shit, that’s new. Isak can’t process this information right now, and all he can do is gape. Even’s bisexual? So that means he’s attracted to men and women. Isak is a man, so in theory –
He manages to unfreeze long enough to say. “Wait. What? No way.”
Even lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Are you really telling me what my sexuality can and can’t be right now?”
“You had a girlfriend. For four years.”
Isak knows all too well. Even had been dating her for the first few weeks they’d moved in together, and Sonja was everywhere in the apartment. He’d felt sick to his stomach every time he saw them kiss, or brush hands, or even looked at each other a second too long. They were everything Isak had thought he wanted in high school, and everything that he hated. Even had broken up with her abruptly about a month ago, and when Isak had asked him why, he’d only brushed him off.
“Do I really need to go through the definition of bisexual with you?” Even says.
“But, like, you’re always so uncomfortable whenever I have guys over, and you glare at them until they leave – “
“That’s because I think you’re the most adorable person I’ve ever met, and it physically pains me that you only see me as your platonic roommate. I can’t stand seeing you with any of those guys, and you’re perfectly entitled to make your own decisions, but I wish that you would notice that I’ve been waiting for you this whole time.”
There’s a moment of shocked silence, and then Even curses as Isak says, “What did you just say?”
Even clenches his jaw. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
“Yeah, but you did.” Isak’s smile begins to grow, even as Even continues to avoid his eyes. He’s staring resolutely at his floral socks, and Isak can detect a blush on his cheeks. He’s never seen Even this flustered, and it’d almost be gratifying, if Isak didn’t want those eyes back on him as soon as possible, just so Isak can drink in Even’s face because he can.
“I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, and I’m sorry if you ever thought I had a problem with you because of your sexuality. We can forget that this conversation ever happened – “
“Fuck, Even. Shut the hell up.”
That finally makes Even look up. “I’m trying to apologize here,” Even says, a little crossly, but Isak’s already making his way across the kitchen, and when he gets there, his first instinct is to lace his fingers through Even’s.
Even looks down at their joined hands. “Oh. This is new,” he says.
“Good new?”
Even squeezes his hand. “The best kind of new.”
Isak beams at him. “Great.”
Even takes Isak’s other hand. “So, let me make a case for us dating. We live together, so we wouldn’t even have to leave the apartment to hang out. We share enough shit already, so there wouldn’t be a question of who’s paying. Also, you’re pretty awesome, and I’d really like to romance you properly. You can even take all the bananas you want.”
Isak kisses him then, and the flutters in his stomach flare up again. He’s not quite sure when he’ll get used to this, when kissing Even will feel like second nature, but he hopes they’ll have the time to find out. “You didn’t have to convince me at all, but for the record, your arguments were very persuasive.”