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Living with Even is the worst.
The kicker? Isak doesn't even realise, at first. Or maybe it isn't , at first. He’s pretty sure when they first move in together it's the epitome of the domestic dream. They're both young, and neither of them have everything figured out, but between the two of them they work out a system. They have a designated laundry day, and a bi-weekly vacuuming and general tidying day. Even does most of the cooking to start with, but actually he's teaching Isak, who's never learned from anyone else, and is, if he does say so himself, a decent student. They do groceries together, most of the time, on their way home from school, because that’s a part of cooking Isak needs to learn as well, and why would either of them carry everything by themselves if they don’t have to? Plus, there’s a certain thrill to it, at first. At filling their home with bits and pieces of themselves, be it photos, or cushions, or discarded hoodies, or bloody fresh vegetables and canned tuna.
And it isn’t really that that wears off. That’s not what it feels like. Sure, some days Isak will pick up the hoodie Even left in the kitchen, and Even’s sock that somehow fell into that inexplicable gap between the fridge and the wall, and Even’s t-shirt that he left in the bathroom, and trip over Even’s shoes as he hangs up Even’s bloody coat on the rack hanging from the back of their entrance door, but --- it’s not like Isak doesn’t do those things. Like those aren’t his biology notes all over the kitchen table even though Even already asked him three times to clear it so they could have dinner. Like that’s not his snapback somehow wedged between their two pots and one pan. (Honestly, how? Isak has no earthly idea.) Like he didn’t trip over his shoes first while trying to get to the front door. Both of them have annoying habits, and leaving stuff lying around everywhere isn’t even the worst of it. The worst of it is Even’s habit of emptying the warm water when he showers, and Isak’s habit of building precarious garbage towers instead of just emptying the goddamn bin. He thinks he’s probably only emptied it once in the two and a half months they’ve lived here.
That’s not even the big stuff either. There’s their intimacy issues, for one. They both fear and crave it so much they don’t know what to do with it except take it out on each other - be it by cuddles, sex, and whispered words of adoration, or passive aggressive sniping at each other when either one of them have had a bad day or are feeling particularly vulnerable. There’s both of them fearing abandonment. There’s how they both tend to martyr themselves and put each other on more of a pedestal than they deserve. There’s honestly a lot they have to learn.
But it’s fine. It’s fine because they’re learning how to talk without wielding their words like swords and shields. It’s fine because Isak knows Even tries to pick up after himself, and Even knows Isak just sometimes gets lost in his head and he doesn’t mean to ignore Even when he asks something of him. It’s fine because at the end of each day Isak slips into bed beside Even and always, always finds himself smiling. He told Even he’s not alone, and he knows that he himself isn’t alone either with Even right here with him. The can learn how to deal with the rest.
So it makes no sense. It makes no sense that it’s almost ten on a school night and when Jonas looks up and says, “Shit, we completely lost track of time, you should get back to your boy,” with a wink and a grin, Isak doesn’t want to go.
The impulse to just stay and put off going home a little longer is so familiar from a year ago that Isak startles to his feet a little too quickly, and stumbles from the headrush.
“Shit,” he mumbles, and Jonas laughs and steadies him.
“Easy, tiger. I’m sure Even’ll be cool that we got a little caught up,” he says.
“Yeah, of course,” Isak says, but digs his phone out of his pocket anyway. There aren’t any new messages or missed calls, so Even has at least not been trying to reach him. He wants to feel relieved, but instead a silent dread pulls tight in his gut.
What if Even hasn’t been trying to reach him because Isak should’ve let him know he’d be late and he’s angry? Passive-aggressively quiet like he sometimes gets?
What if Even hasn’t been trying to reach him because he hasn’t even noticed Isak’s late? Caught up with his own shit the way he’s been for weeks now?
“You okay?” Jonas asks, startling him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah, sure,” Isak says, slipping his phone back into his pocket with a grin. The way Jonas grins and rolls his eyes at the gesture means he probably thinks Even texted him something dirty, and Isak’s not in the mood to correct him, so he just quickly pulls on his shoes and grabs his backpack.
“See you at school tomorrow,” Isak says, pulling Jonas in for a brief hug.
“Only a little while left of this year,” Jonas says. “Can you believe Even’s graduating?”
Despite the tight coil of something-off in his gut, Isak laughs, chest light and happy.
“Yeah, I can. He’s worked so hard, he deserves it so much,” he says, and lets Jonas’ indulgent smile soften his own.
“You sicken me,” Jonas jokes, and gives Isak a little push out the door. Isak laughs and turns around with a final nod in greeting at Jonas, bouncing down the stairs. It’s not dark yet, because this is June in Oslo, but it’s not quite daylight bright anymore either and Isak fishes out his earbuds as he makes his way to the tram station. The muted lilac grey light and the rhythmic beat in his ears make him smile a little, even as his thoughts start to wander.
Why the fuck is he so reluctant to go home? He hasn’t seen Even since earlier at school and he knows for a fact, and knows deep in his bones, that seeing Even always makes him feel better. Even when they’re mad at each other and fighting, even when everything seems exhausting and impossible, just the reassurance of Even’s existence, of his closeness, of You-are-not-alone lights a tiny little flame in Isak’s heart. There’s nothing he’s more sure of than that he’d always rather be with Even than without him.
So why does he feel like digging his heels in and staying put? Why does he not want to go home to the boy he loves so much?
Isak bites his lip and fishes his phone back out while he leans against the three-walls-and-a-roof that covers the only bench at the tram station. He fiddles with it a bit, opens his texts and closes the app before opening it again, staring at Even’s last text. It’s from earlier today, an hour or two after they last spoke in person.
Even Kosegruppa
Have fun at Jonas’ today! ❤
❤
Isak stares at the hearts as though they’re mocking him, brow furrowed in frustrated confusion. The tram pulls up and he looks up to get on, doesn’t want to risk stumbling over the steps and sits down heavily in an empty seat. The guilt over not realising how late it’s gotten mixes with the guilt over how reluctant he is to go home, and it gnaws at his belly. Isak gnaws on his lower lip.
Even Kosegruppa
So sorry I’m late, baby! Jonas and I lost track of time, but I’m omw. ❤
No problem, I get it! Just maybe next time can you please let me know when we run out of something and you don’t replace it? Had to run out for pasta mid-cooking. :/
❤
The heart shows up a split second after the actual message, and maybe Even just tapped the send button by accident, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’s actually mad at Isak about the staying late and about the fucking pasta and he sent it without the heart on purpose, only to take it back immediately. And Isak knows that that’s good, that that means Even realises that he’s being ridiculous, and also that they never leave hearts unanswered, but.
Suddenly he’s angry.
Suddenly he’s frowning not because of frustrated, concerned guilt, but because how dare Even. How dare he imply Isak has been lax about his household duties. For weeks now Isak has gone on all the grocery runs by himself. He’s done all their laundry and the last two Cleaning Days. He cooks most days, and, fine, he’s not as good at it yet as Even is, so it’s mostly a rotation of the same few things, but he makes sure Even has anything he could need that Isak can provide. And it’s fine. Really. Even is busy with his exams. He’s graduating. It makes sense. Isak doesn’t mind it. He gets being busy with school, it’s not like Isak isn’t. But Even acting like Isak not having bought replacement pasta since he used it for their dinner last night is some sort of lazy oversight? Some teen boy thing he does all the time? And with a fucking :/ emoji? Not okay. Not even a little bit okay. And he’s not-- he’s not imagining it. He runs the weeks backwards, tries to think of the last time Even came to get groceries with him, or helped out with Cleaning Day, and it’s definitely been weeks.
Isak feels his jaw tick and closes his messaging app, turning the volume up and balling his hands to fists when it has Mary J Blige belt out ‘This love is a once in a lifetime cruise’ . Thanks, Mary.
For the rest of the song Isak stares out the window and feels his nails dig into them palms of his hands. His heartbeat thunders loudly in his ears in the split moment of silence between songs, and he suddenly realises that his breathing has gotten a lot heavier. He shifts uncomfortably and takes a deep breath, uncurling his hands. It doesn’t uncurl the angry coil of annoyance and hurt in his belly, but it makes his shoulders relax at least a little and that’s better than nothing, he supposes. He doesn’t want to go home and fight with Even, it’s just---
--- it’s just that Isak knows this feeling. He knows what it feels like when it seems like you keep giving and giving and at first you don’t mind doing it but then the other person doesn’t even notice and it starts feeling like you’re being taken advantage of. He knows that feeling, and he knows that Even is nothing like his mother, absolutely nothing. He doesn’t want to fight when he gets home, and he definitely doesn’t want to bring up his mother, not even a little bit. The fact that this hurts so much, and that it makes Isak think of those things, is something that Isak needs to work on. It’s not really Even’s problem. Even’s problem is taking what Isak does for him for granted. Not purposely, Isak’s sure of that, but that doesn’t change that Isak’s been doing more than his fair share, and instead of a thank you, it gets him a veiled scolding.
The air hits him like a wall, sort of, as he gets off the tram. Slips into his lungs and makes them expand as wide as they can without him even consciously deciding to. It’s calming and invigorating and always makes Isak wonder, just a little bit, what it would be like to live in the countryside. To have grown up somewhere that isn’t Oslo. Not that Oslo’s that big, but it’s definitely a city. Are there places where every breath feels like this one or is it just emotions? Or even if it is the air, would you just be used to it?
Isak takes another breath.
They need to talk.
They need to talk, but they need to actually talk, not snipe at each other, so Isak takes an extra walk around their block before he heaves his body up the stairs to their fourth floor apartment. He can suddenly feel the full day catch up with him, and the idea of trying to have a Serious Adult Conversation with Even right now when they’re possibly both already a little bit emotional is not exactly his idea of a pleasant nightcap. So he opens the door slowly and quietly, feels a little like a coward for not calling out to Even immediately, but takes his time to slip off his shoes and push both his and Even’s a little closer to the wall in a semblance of tidiness. He slips his backpack off his shoulder and lets it rest against the wall next to the shoes, staring down at them a bit and feeling a very, very soft smile bloom on his face. He can’t help it. The casual domesticity of a pile of their shoes still gets to him, makes his heart swell with a rush of “we’re really doing this”.
When he looks up Even is leaning against the wall a few paces away, studying him. He’s not exactly smiling, but he’s not exactly not smiling either, and when he catches Isak’s eye his face softens into something a little more familiar.
“Hey,” Even says.
“Hi, baby,” Isak answers, and steps up into Even’s space, wrapping his arms around his waist and hugging him close.
Even sighs a little and hugs him back, body melting against Isak’s.
“You have a good time at Jonas’?” Even asks, quietly and muffled by the way he’s let his face drop down against Isak’s shoulder.
“Nah, I hated it, that’s why I stayed so long. Complete masochist, me,” Isak says with a small grin.
Even snorts into his shoulder.
“Kinky.”
Isak hums his agreement and thinks he should probably let go now, but Even’s not exactly pulling away yet either, so he holds on for a bit longer. It’s only when he starts feeling restless that he steps away again. Even releases him easily, but his smile seems a little more relaxed when Isak looks up at him again.
“There’s still some pasta,” Even says, almost gently. As though he’s making sure Isak doesn’t take it as another dig.
Isak smiles and tilts his head up to give Even a brief kiss.
“Thanks,” he says. “Join me?”
Even nods and follows Isak into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water while Isak dishes himself a plate of Even’s bacon-tomato pasta. Isak takes a bite as soon as he sits down and scolds himself for stalling, but Even’s studying his water glass quite intently himself, so it’s not like he’s the only one who doesn’t want to start this - or any - conversation. But then Even looks up and their eyes catch, and Even’s frown deepens as his eyes flit across Isak’s face, cataloguing him.
“Are you okay?” Even asks.
Isak feels warmth bloom right in the center of his chest and spread out towards the icy cold tips of his fingers. He can’t help the way he can feel his face go soft, and by now enough of his friends have taken photos of him when he feels like this for him to know exactly what that looks like. How dopey it is. How absolutely gone for Even he looks. But then, he is so so gone for this boy, so it’s probably only fair that it shows in every line and plane and valley on his face.
“I love you a lot,” he says, which is almost an answer to Even’s question.
Even’s face lights up with that pleased smile it always does when Isak says it, every single time in the past four months, and Isak smiles back at him.
“I love you a lot too,” Even says and stretches his leg out underneath their tiny table to let his ankle come to rest against Isak’s. Isak takes a breath, and he can almost watch Even steel himself.
“I think I need to talk about something,” Isak says, pushing the pasta in his plate around a bit.
“Okay?” Even answers.
“About, um. Us. Living together,” Isak goes on.
Even’s frowning now, but he doesn’t ask Isak if he’s already regretting it, not even as a joke, and Isak’s grateful for it, because, no. No, he doesn’t regret a single second of this, and the question would probably feel a bit insulting.
“I don’t, um,” he starts, and halts a bit at the attentive look on Even’s face. As wonderful as it is, to be listened to so intently, it’s also a bit daunting. It makes Isak want to choose his words far more carefully than he’s used to. Which is probably not a bad thing and a habit Isak should get into anyway.
“I don’t appreciate when you treat me like a child you’re having to take care of,” he says. “If I do something wrong, or you’re bothered by something I do, I want you to tell me, of course, but I need us to be on equal terms here. Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like a kid. Technically I’ve lived by myself longer than you have.”
“You mean the text I sent you earlier,” Even clarifies.
Isak nods and takes another bite of pasta. Even’s still frowning a little.
“Okay, I-- I shouldn’t have been so passive-aggressive about it, but I was just annoyed that I had to literally stop halfway through making dinner for us - which you didn’t tell me you weren’t going to show up for, by the way--”
“Don’t turn this around on me,” Isak interrupts, feeling his shoulders tense again. “Thank you for making dinner, but do you know when I used that pasta? Literally last night when I made dinner for us.”
Even’s mouth drops open in a surprised little “oh” before his face shifts into a contrite grimace.
“Yeah. And, like, it’s nice that you wanted to cook for us tonight, but you could’ve just made sure we have everything at home before you got started.”
Even deflates and he offers up a small smile.
“You’re right. You’re-- god, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he says.
“I get it, sometimes small things are just really massively annoying,” Isak says. “I’d know all about being grumpy.”
He waggles his eyebrows teasingly, and Even rewards him with a tinkling little laugh and a nudge of his foot. Isak grins back at him.
“It’s just... you haven’t gone grocery shopping with me in, like, two weeks or so. And I’ve done most of the cooking recently. And it’s been a month since you helped with Cleaning Day, and that’s fine, ‘cause you’re graduating, and I get it. I get needing to focus on school, you know I do,” Isak says with a little laugh, because if Even thought he knew how much Isak studied before they moved in together he’s probably still had to reevaluate. “But even if it’s only second year for me, I have exams as well. And I don’t mind doing a little bit more right now, but I do mind if the only reaction I get from you is a complaint that I haven’t replaced some fucking pasta in less than 24 hours.”
Even groans and buries his face in his hands, dragging them down in a way that pulls at his lower lids and cheeks comically as he removes them and looks back up at Isak.
“Have I really?” he asks.
Isak shrugs and takes another bite of pasta, stalling a little again.
“I mean-- yeah.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Even says. “I’m really, really sorry. God, that makes me sound extra douche-y.”
“A bit,” Isak confirms, but he pulls a face at Even and nudges his foot with his as well.
“I didn’t even notice,” Even confesses. “Which is probably worse.”
Isak tilts his head from side to side, considering. “Maybe.”
“I guess this was never going to go 100% smoothly,” Even says, a little chagrined.
Isak has to laugh at that.
“You didn’t really think it would anyway. And as long as we can do this,” he says, gesturing between them with his fork and accidentally flicking tomato sauce on Even’s arm, “I think we’re good. Sorry about that, by the way.”
Even grins and brings his arm up to lick it off.
“It’s fine. And, yeah, I think you’re right. Thank you, for bringing this up,” he says. “I’ll try harder.”
Isak shrugs.
“It really is fine, like I said. Third year is hard, and I can only imagine it’s a little more stressful for you,” he says, a little more quietly.
Even laughs just as quietly. “Cause of the memories and the heavy anxiety you mean?”
Isak grins lopsidedly. “Yeah, it’s occurred to me.”
“Because you’re wonderful,” Even says. “And please don’t ever think I think of you as anything other than an equal partner in this, because I don’t. I don’t think of you as a child, or anything like that.”
Isak nods slowly and puts down his fork to reach out his hand to Even. Even takes it immediately, tangling their fingers.
“Okay,” Isak says, feeling the tension leak out of his shoulder. He needed to hear that a bit more than he was aware, apparently.
“Okay,” Even echoes, and squeezes Isak’s hand a bit before letting go of it so Isak can go back to finishing his dinner. For a bit they’re just quiet, letting the words settle around them and taking the time to make sure neither of them are still hurting anywhere.
“So, how’re Jonas and Nora doing?” Even asks then.
“Oh my god,” Isak says with a groan. “Please. They’re so weird with each other.”
Even laughs and gives Isak a look that says ‘don’t be mean, we’re weird too’, and Isak’s smile widens as he launches into a recount of the latest Jonas/Noora story. It’s completely new for Isak, knowing that even when he’s coming home to an unpleasant conversation, to something that has the potential to go downhill, he’s probably going to end up laughing and loving and loved anyway.
Honestly, living with Even is the best.
The End