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“Tell me why you’re sad, Isak.”
Even’s voice is so soft, so caring and full of pain that Isak wants to cry the second he hears it. It’s hard to stop himself from letting out the sob that builds in his throat as a large hand strokes its way through his hair, but he manages to swallow it, eyes shut tight, face buried in the pillow on their bed. Sometimes it’s easier just to pretend he’s asleep. Maybe then Even will stop fucking asking questions.
“I know you’re awake.”
Shit. That plan failed then. Isak blinks his eyes open. Hopefully, Even doesn’t notice the thin veil of tears that covers them.
“Your eyes were moving around behind your eyelids. And your breathing was light, and shallow, and you didn’t have that adorable little frown on your face like you always have when you’re asleep.”
It’s frustrating, how easily he can be read by Even. The hand in his hair moves down his face, long thumb splaying over his cheek and pulling at his mouth slightly. Isak looks up at Even, but the tears make his vision blur. He doesn’t dare blink, knowing how close they are to spilling. Even stares back.
“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t make it go away.”
Not even Even can make this problem go away. Isak wants to tell him, obviously, but if he says it out loud that makes it real. Not once since he got the phone call from the doctor has he said it out loud. The second he tells Even, he’s absolutely screwed. It doesn’t get any more real than that.
“I’m fine.” It’s a pathetic lie, when his voice is so choked he can barely make the words out. It’s very clear to Even as it would be to anyone that Isak is, in fact, not fine. He’s not even close to being fine.
“Is it about your mom?” Even tries. Isak shakes his head. Thankfully, for once, it truly isn’t about his mother. Actually, she’d been doing better and better since Christmas. It had been like a weight lifted off his shoulders, knowing that she was somewhat okay and he didn’t have to be on edge every second in fear of the absolute worst.
“Baby, you’re scaring me.”
Isak wishes it was a lie, just a stupid interrogation tactic designed to guilt him into spilling his guts, but he can hear it in the jilt of Even’s voice and see it in the wide searching of his eyes that what he says is nothing but the truth. Even is scared- probably because Isak’s supposed to be the strong one in their relationship. Isak isn’t supposed to be the one who breaks.
One lapse of memory paired with a biological need to stop his eyes from drying out is enough to send two fresh tears spilling over the edge of his eyelids, pouring down his face at an angle and falling onto the bedsheets. In that moment, Isak thinks he sees Even’s heart literally break, and the guilt in his chest swells painfully. He’d told himself, time and time again that he needs to be the one that is strong for Even, strong for his mother, strong for them all not the other way around.
It isn’t supposed to be like this, he wants to sob, blinking again because there’s no turning back now, tear after tear following the brave first two as Even swipes them away with his thumb. I’m supposed to be the one who takes care of you.
“The doctors called.” Isak manages to croak out, tearing his eyes away from Even’s, staring into the relaxing whiteness of the bedsheets. It has the same effect as white noise in settling the hammering in his chest just for a few seconds, before Even’s hand around his face tightens slightly, reminding Isak of his presence. “The doctors called and… they said that I have to start taking anti-depressant medication.”
Even leans back slightly from where he’d been leaning down, looming over Isak. Isak rolls onto his back and finally lets out the first of the many sobs he’d been holding in all day. Of course, Even had noticed how down he’d been since he left the room during dinner to answer the phone. As far as Even was aware- Isak had just gone to the doctors to get his allergy medicine now that the summer was in full swing and pollen was everywhere. Isak didn’t want to admit to himself that he was too frightened of how much Even would worry if he knew that Isak was actually going to the doctors to finally sink to his knees beg for a cure for his sleepless nights.
He just didn’t think this would be it.
“Baby, why does that make you so upset?” Even himself may have leant back, but his hand still remains, clutching at Isak’s face gently, thumb brushing his cheek in soothing strokes. It takes a while before Isak can even find the words to answer. There’s a whole list of reasons why the doctor prescribing him a course of fairly strong anti-depressants makes him upset. For starters, anti-depressants had been the catalyst to his mother’s first breakdown. After Lea, he’d seen the way she changed. His father had seen it too- he’d all but demanded she go to a doctor and try to fix herself. She came back with little red-and-white pills and nothing had ever been the same since. Everyone liked to pretend that it was just her brain that was making her act so out of it, but the only real difference Isak could see between the mother he knew then and the mother he knew now was those stupid pills. It started with just the one, every morning, and then they’d upped her dose to two. Then they’d introduced some green-and-yellow capsules to go along with the red-and-white ones, and then they’d doubled that dosage, and then, she was taking five pills a day and each dose was making her worse and worse.
So yeah, forgive him if he doesn’t trust medication.
However, the biggest factor in his book titled: Reasons to Be Upset is staring right down at him, stroking his face and wiping his tears away with questions on his lips and fear in his eyes. Even Bech fucking Næsheim. Isak knew how much he hated taking his medication- they’d spoken about it several times.
Sometimes I just don’t feel real, Even had said to him. Sometimes when I take them, and it’s like everything around me goes on mute.
Even has a love-hate relationship with all the different kinds of pills he’d tried and tested. Sure, they had their good parts. They stop his manic episodes and they help stave off the depressive ones too. But what does all that matter when he spends every day feeling so empty? Isak knows Even probably tries to downplay the effect drugs have on his everyday life, but he’s seen the way Even stares at the little white pillbox he keeps in the bathroom cabinets every morning. And it isn’t good.
Thirdly, and this is probably the factor he hates the most in his new, sobbing state, Isak is scared.
They don’t just give out anti-depressants like candy. In fact, Isak had heard and read and seen how hard it was for some people to get prescribed drugs, even when they felt like they really really needed them. Just two days ago, when he’d sat in the doctors waiting room with the feeling of a thousand sandbags pulling at his eyelids, lulling him to a sleep that would never come, a girl had come bursting out of one of the conference rooms with angry tears in her eyes, yelling that the healthcare system was a joke and if she didn’t get the help she needed, how could she stop something drastic from happening?
That woke him up. It still plays in his mind now, over and over, the look on her face. The heartbreak.
What does that say about him?
Is he so fucked up that he needs actual anti-depressants just to sleep through the night? Isak can’t count on one hand the amount of nights in the last week he’s slept more than three hours. Since Christmas- since he and Even had finally made things right and taken a stab at a real relationship- things had actually been good. Isak was finally sleeping again, and even better, he was sleeping in the arms of someone he knows loves and cares about him. But recently, over the last month or so, it’s been harder and harder to keep remembering that. Even snores softly behind him with his arms wrapped around Isak’s waist and his tummy, but Isak lays awake, eyes burning, staring at the wall. Some nights, when it gets really bad, he turns over and watches Even sleep instead. He cries, there’s so many nights where he’s silently cried, so envious of the fact that Even finds it so easy to just sleep. And that makes it hurt just that little bit more- because Isak knows how much pain Even has gone through to deserve something as simple as a decent nights sleep. He knows how many sleepless nights Even’s gone through thanks to his bipolar- and the fact that he’s good again is something they should be celebrating.
But Isak can’t celebrate. He’s too tired.
Of course, he wants to say this to Even. He wants to open up and spill his guts and lay himself out on the bed bare, ready for the taking. He’d already given Even every single piece of his body- was it such a stretch to give up his soul too? He knows Even would take it all on and more.
But maybe that’s part of the problem.
Because Even already has so much weight on his shoulders. It’s supposed to be Isak’s job to help share the burden. Instead he’s just got more to add.
“Isak?” Even whispers, and Isak then realises that he’s been silently crying for five minutes, instead of answering Even’s question. “Isak, please. Just talk to me. Say something.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Even pulls back the blanket and slips underneath, laying flat beside him. He doesn’t reach over to pull Isak into him. He just makes himself comfortable beside him, and then, slowly, he moves his fingers across and takes Isak’s hand tightly in his, hesitant, as not to overwhelm him. “Don’t ever be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m such a fuck up,” Isak whispers back. “I’m supposed to be the one who makes everything okay. I’m supposed to take care of my mom and take care of you but I can’t do it. I can’t, and it’s killing me.”
“Isak-”
“I can’t sleep, Even.” He’s sobbing now, and he’s very aware that he’s sobbing, but it’s impossible to stop. Even squeezes his hand tighter and turns his head so his nose is pressed against the side of Isak’s face, but it doesn’t make it stop. “I can’t sleep.”
“Baby, please.” Even sounds like he’s crying now, as if Isak didn’t feel bad enough already. He pushes closer, pressing his whole face against Isak’s, before pulling their hands up and resting them against his chest. The feeling of Even’s heartbeat, thrumming beneath his fingers is just about enough to help him breathe again. Just. “Stop crying, Isak. You’re breaking my heart.”
“Don’t you see?!” Isak yanks his hand out of Even’s grip, rolling over to his side so he can face the wall, rather than look at his boyfriend’s tear-stained face another second. “This is why I’m upset, Even. Because my brain is all screwed up and it’s making me hurt you.”
“Stop saying things like that!” Even yells back, and Isak only then realises that they’d been shouting in the first place. “Isak, when are you going to understand that the whole world is not on your shoulders? Just because I am bipolar and your mom is sick too doesn’t mean that you are not allowed to be sad.”
The words echo in Isak’s mind for a full, silent minute before Isak finds the strength to turn himself back around, laying on his other side. Even is staring at him, jaw clenched. Still, he is gentle when he reaches up and curls his fingers into Isak’s hair.
“You are allowed to be vulnerable, Isak.” He says- and it’s crazy- because it actually sounds like he means it. Isak’s breath catches in his throat. “You are allowed to hurt and be sad just like I am. And just like you are with me, I’m always going to be here to do whatever I can to help share your problems, and your sadness, just as you share mine.”
Then, Even leans forwards and presses his lips against Isak’s, hard. Isak is too in shock to be very responsive, eyes trained on Even and mouth hung open slightly in shock. Even draws back and just stares at him from across the bed. His hand doesn’t move.
Isak leans in and presses their mouths together a second time.
They don’t kiss for long- it’s hard when Isak is still sort-of-crying whilst Even is trying to drink him in like a dying man with water- but Even does hold onto him so tightly, and the moment Isak draws away and rests his face in the crook of Even’s neck, he feels his boyfriend’s hands move from his face down to his waist, holding onto him impossibly tightly. Even wraps his arms around Isak like a snake, pulling him so he is almost completely laid out on top. Then, Isak feels Even’s chin, resting on the top of his head, and he cries some more, because it all just feels so right.
“Tomorrow,” Even says to him softly, and for the first time, Isak doesn’t argue. “We’re going down to the chemist and we’re picking up your meds. And I’ll buy you a little pill box just like mine with the days of the week written on it. Then, every morning we’re going to get up together, and we’ll brush our teeth and we’ll take our meds together. And every night you feel like you can’t sleep, you wake me up and I’ll put on a movie or tell you a story or fuck you until you can’t keep your eyes open. I don’t care how hard it is Isak, I will help you and you’re going to let me.”
After a few minutes of silence, Isak’s face still buried into Even’s neck, he hears his voice again.
“Is that going to be okay?” he asks. Isak knows in his heart that there isn’t a single reason why it wouldn’t be. So, silently, he nods. Even holds him even tighter.
“I love you Isak, so much. Please don’t shut me out. You can’t set yourself on fire just to keep me warm.”
Red, sore eyes squinting, Isak finally drags his head up from the cave it had created itself in Even’s neck. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
“Did you just quote tumblr to me?”
Even laughs, and in that moment it is the sweetest and most relieving sound Isak’s ever heard.
“I did. Is that a problem?”
“You’re such a nerd.”
“I’m your nerd. And I wasn’t kidding. You will let me help you, won’t you Isak?”
Isak pauses for a few short moments, shifting to fold his arms and rest them on Even’s chest, leaning his chin atop them. Then, he leans forwards, and catches Even’s pretty mouth in another firm kiss.
“I’ll try.” He says, and Even nods. For now, they both suppose, it is promise enough.
Trying is all they can do, for now.