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"You've never told me what you identify as."
It comes up after dinner one day. Isak’s half-laying on their bed, browsing through the Oslo Pride website for the second time after Eskild had brought it up, rather tentatively, in their group chat. Even’s scrolling through Netflix on their TV, talking about diversity in media and when Even mentions sexuality, Isak’s reminded that they had never discussed Even’s sexuality.
It’s not like it mattered. But it had been at the back of Isak’s mind, something he wasn’t really sure how to bring up. He’d guessed that he wasn't only attracted to boys; his relationship with Sonja hadn't exactly looked forced and Isak knew a thing or two about forced relationships with girls.
“Huh?”
“You know, like… bisexual, pansexual,” Isak clarifies.
“Pansexual," Even replies, confirming Isak's thoughts. He thinks back to the conversation Magnus and Mahdi had after he came out to them last year and he smirks to himself.
“Magnus thought so,” Isak tells him and Even laughs a little.
“Smart guy.”
He clicks around on the website for another minute, before another thought occurs to him. “What’s the difference between pansexual and bisexual?” Another thing Magnus and Mahdi had discussed—something Isak didn’t quite get himself.
Even turns to him again, taking a moment to think before answering. “They’re similar. Bisexual is being attracted to more than one gender and pansexual is being attracted to people regardless of gender.” A pause. “Mostly it’s just about preference in labels though.”
He hums, still listening but his eyes are fixated on his computer screen, where he’d opened a new tab to google the pansexual pride flag.
Suddenly, Even’s next to him, tv remote tossed aside. “What are you up to?” He leans his head on Isak’s shoulder to look at the computer screen.
“Research.”
“Are we going to Pride?” Even asks him, pointing to the tab.
“Maybe.” Isak bites his lip. “Would you want to?”
“Yes!” He sits up, excitement in his eyes. “But only if you’re comfortable.”
Isak would’ve never even entertained the thought six months ago. But thinking about it now, when he’d been surrounded by nothing but continuous support ever since he came out— the idea of him going to Pride, with Even, and probably Eskild, felt… exciting. Exhilarating.
“I’m comfortable,” he says firmly after a moment, closing his laptop screen and pushing it aside. “I’m comfortable. We should do it.”
At that, Even gives him a huge smile — one of those smiles that left Isak’s heart almost bursting with love for him and Isak knows he made the right decision.
“I’m proud of you, y’know,” Even tells him, taking a hold of one of Isak’s hands, their fingers interlacing. “So unbelievably proud.”
“I can’t take credit for the idea,” Isak admits. “Eskild brought it up.”
“But then you brought it up to me,” Even points out. “That’s something to be proud of.”
“Maybe.” There’s a smile tugging at his lips and Even leans over to press his lips to Isak’s. And Isak thinks about how he doesn’t think he could ever get tired of this, thinks about the longer he’s with Even the more he can’t imagine his life being any other way, thinks about how the more he learns about him the more he falls in love with him.
Even pulls away and lays down, resting his head on Isak’s chest. Isak wraps an arm around him, placing a kiss on his head.
“When did you know?” He inquires, his hand moving to run through Even’s hair.
“That I liked boys too?”
“That you were pansexual.”
“I think I’ve always known,” Even begins. “But the crush I had on one of my guy friends in secondary school said a lot. And then the next year it was a girl in my art class. I ignored it for a while. It was hard.” He pauses. “Especially since it’s not—people say it’s not real, that you end up ‘choosing’ eventually.” He makes air quotes around the word ‘choose.’ “But I can’t ‘choose’ anything. I like who I like. And I like you.”
That makes Isak smile. “I like you, too.”
Isak doesn’t feel like he had a choice either. In fact, he thinks if he had had a choice, he wouldn’t be here right now, laying with Even. All those years of him fighting an internal war with himself that deep down he knew he would lose—if there was a choice, wouldn’t it have worked?
The only choice that he feels that he’s making is choosing to be honest with himself, choosing to be open, choosing not to be ashamed. And Even had made that choice too. Even—Even who had always seemed so confident in who he was, who Isak never thought would’ve struggled with identity, had gone through a similar battle.
Sometimes, Isak wonders where he would be if Even had come along and given him the nudge he needed. He considers himself lucky that he had him—he knows many people go through that struggle alone.
“Hey.” Isak moves his free hand to take one of Even’s, giving it a squeeze.
“Hm?”
“I’m proud of you, too.”