Work Text:
Apologies are like oxygen masks on a hijacked plane.
Forgive yourself before you ever forgive the person sitting next to you.
-Jasmine Mans
Even wakes up to the alarm in Isak’s phone, ringing harshly in an otherwise silent and dark room. His mind is still swirling with sleep and for a moment, he wanted to reach over and turn it off, wrap his arm around Isak’s waist and fall back into the stillness of it all. Until he remembers what day it is and he feels his heart picking up pace. It’s Saturday, 4 a.m. They should get up and get ready to go to the airport. Their flight is at 6.15 a.m. and the airport is approximately 45 minutes away. He has a moment of wild, impulsive thought and he acts on it. He turns off the alarm and goes back to sleep. He will deal with Isak in the morning.
Fifteen minutes after and he has barely gotten his heart to stop carving an exit through his chest when his own phone starts ringing. Fuck. Isak set the alarm on both their phones and he has no excuse as to why he would sleepily, “accidentally” turn them both off.
Before he could even think for more than a second, Isak shifts in their shared bed with a groan, stretches, lets out a big yawn, and moves closer to whisper in Even’s ear, “Time for Morocco, baby.”
Even keeps his eyes shut for a second longer, trying not to let anything show on his face.
He opens his eyes slowly while Isak shuts the alarm and taps at his leg, “Come on, Even. Get up. We don’t want to miss the flight.”
Even sits up on the bed to kiss Isak’s shoulder as the other boy faces away from Even, looking at text messages in his phone and Even thinks to himself, actually, I do want to miss the flight.
He swallows that thought down as Isak looks over, kisses him on the cheek with a big grin, and says, “Shall we shower together?”
Even shakes his head. “You go first, I want to sleep a little longer.”
Isak playfully smacks his arm and says, “Fine, only because I love you.”
As Even lies on his bed and holds a pillow to his chest, trying to focus on breathing right, he repeats those words in his head like they would somehow give him courage to get through this. Chanting things in his head usually helps with the anxiety anyway. It gives his mind something to chase after, mindlessly fidget with.
Fine, only because I love you.
Only because I love you.
Only because I love you.
I will do this only because I love you.
By the time Isak comes out of the bathroom, the words have been imprinted and worn out in Even’s mind with the amount of repetitions. Even says nothing, just grabs his towel, pretends he is still half-asleep, and walks past Isak to the bathroom. Isak does not quite notice anything amiss.
The thing is when Isak mentioned going somewhere for a vacation with him, Even thought it was really sweet of him to want that. But he didn’t really consider Isak being truly serious and committed to the plan.
Even himself had shrugged it off by saying, “I’m too impulsive to make plans like that.”
Isak did say he could take care of the plan, but perhaps Even underestimated how far Isak was willing to go. He figured they’d eventually dump the plan and go for a picnic or throw a party at their apartment and have days’ worth of sex and cook food and watch movies.
So, when Even came home from work a week ago and was greeted by the buzzing excitement of Isak holding a copy of two tickets to Morocco printed from his email, Even felt his heart drop, with almost similar magnitude of hearing Isak say, “I decided my life is better off without mentally ill people.”
He maintained a stoic face, the way he does when this sort of shit happens to him and he is either forced to confess or hold his peace forever, but Isak was too busy hugging him and kissing his neck talking about all the places that they would visit together for the younger boy to notice the shift in Even.
They had sex right after. And if Even was a little more desperate than usual, clutching Isak’s face and arms and waist a little harder than he should, well, Isak didn’t notice it. If he did, he didn’t let it show. Even slept with his back to Isak that day and tensed when Isak rolled over and wrapped his arms and legs around his.
By the time they were ready to board, each dragging behind a suitcase and a bag pack, Isak is so excited about his first trip ever outside of Norway and his first big trip with his boyfriend, that he does not quite notice Even’s silence. He takes a selfie with Even, only to see that the taller boy could not quite manage a smile and when Isak looks over quizzically, Even grabs the phone, kisses Isak sweetly, and snaps a picture for Isak to keep. It was a really quick and smart maneuver that had Isak too busy smirking and trying to land another kiss to actually register that something was odd about Even.
When they were finally seated, Isak replying in the group chat, excitedly telling the boys that he will see them in a week and the boys telling them to have a safe trip, Even chants in his head
Only because I love you. Only because I love you only because I love you only because
He snaps out of it when the air stewardess politely tells Isak that he needs to turn off his phone and put on his safety belt because the flight is about to take off. Even watches mutely at two air stewardesses showing the safety procedure in a rehearsed manner.
Isak leans from his window seat and laughingly whispers in his ear, “Baby, if the plane crashes, you gotta put the oxygen mask on me. I don’t know how to do it and I can’t see the demonstration from my seat.”
Even’s blood runs colder than he thought was possible. They could still get out of the plane, right? They could leave now.
Isak nudges his nose against Even’s cheek and says fondly, “What are you thinking about?”
“You.”
“Hmmm… what about me?”
“That I will put the oxygen mask on you if shit goes down.”
Isak scoffs, “You better.”
Isak kisses him on the cheek and Even turns his head to give him a proper kiss.
Isak mumbles against his lips, “You make me so happy. I love you.”
And Even closes his eyes and breathes in, trying not to cry. Not even the good kind of cry. Just the desperate, please just stop kind of cry. Isak deserves a better person, someone healthier, more functional. It’s taking all of Even’s physical power to not start screaming right now. The pilot greets the entire flight through the microphone and says the flight is about to take off. Even drags his face away from Isak’s and lets out a wrenching gasp.
“Even… are you… dude, are you afraid to fly?”
Even can hear the slight panicked amusement in Isak’s voice. There’s half a disbelieving laugh and half a concerned remark embedded in that single question. But he isn’t in the place to answer or reassure anyone at this point.
It’s not that he is afraid of flights in the conventional sense. He doesn’t think about the plane crashing during take-off or the turbulence or the hostage situation or even the engines bursting into flames as they land. He doesn’t fear flying as much as he fears the take-off and landing. He is terrified of how close it feels to losing his mind. And that is something he has no words to explain to anyone, not even Isak.
onlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecause
How do you tell someone that the way your ears feel like they are compressing into the side of your skull, the way the plane sounds as it rushes against wind in high speed to get off the ground, your head empty and bloated at the same time, spilling over with too much of nothing, everything surreal and hazy and you are trapped within a small seat with straps and not nearly enough leg space, your eyes swimming from the need to escape the confined space, your lungs refusing to uncurl, like a tight fist trying to punch its way out with every breath, the way your stomach drops as the flight finally moves off the strip… it feels too close to how he feels on days when he is depressed after a manic episode. He has no vocabulary to even begin to think about it, let alone explain himself to Isak.
He used to go on trips with his parents when he was younger, healthier, and the three of them were as close to a perfect family as they could be. Until he started losing his mind and he ruined everything for everyone. His parents seem to have aged so quickly after that, constantly worrying and fretting and sobbing at nights behind closed doors when they think he can’t hear them. His dad would drop by his room in the middle of the night to make sure he is still in bed and not running amok, pull the blanket over him, and press his forehead against his head gently before leaving, as though if he did that enough times, he could take away whatever sickness that envelopes his son’s mind. His mum would be awake so early in the morning that he doubts she hardly sleeps, and every time she sees him, she puts on the biggest smile, greets him good morning, and makes him breakfast, as though she could fight off a bad day with the sheer intensity of her forced joy.
Somewhere along the line, he couldn’t stand flying anymore so they stopped. If they wanted to go somewhere, they’d have to drive. He always felt awful about it because his parents loved travelling and he was an obstruction to their fulfillment. He figured that once he moves in with Isak in his new apartment, they would have the space and time to do things for themselves. But they don’t really. He supposes it has become a habit now for them to stay at home, to call him daily and check on him, to be ever prepared for a bad day.
That was why he didn’t tell them about the trip to Morocco. They would have gotten so worried. His parents have learnt that the more they try and control Even, the more they tell him what to do albeit for his own good, the more he feels like there’s something so wrong about him that he is not allowed to call the shots… the more impulsive and reckless his actions become. As though in his own twisted way, he wants to prove to himself that he is beyond repair.
So, if his parents did know about the trip, they would have called Isak without Even’s knowledge, told him all about Even’s aversion to flying, and Isak would have made up a lie to cancel the trip, but Even would know when he lies, and that would have sent Even spiraling into a self-hating breakdown, feeling like he is a worthless boyfriend who can’t give Isak anything he wants without shitting all over their relationship with his own issues and…. well, it would have probably been worse than just taking the goddamn flight.
onlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecauseiloveyouonlybecause
“Even… Even, baby, look at me. Please. Even, hey.”
Isak’s voice sounds distant but clear enough to drag him out of the prison of his mind. He feels one of Isak’s hand squeezing his own tightly and the other hand holding him by the nape of his neck. Even opens his eyes, breathes raggedly, and looks over at Isak’s worried face. This is exactly what he didn’t want to see.
“Even, why didn’t you tell me you were afraid of flying? Jesus--”
Even shakes his head, doesn’t bother explaining that it’s for a whole different reason, mutters, “I’m sorry.”
Looking at the way Isak is scrambling to make him stop, he guesses he may have repeatedly apologised for a long time while he was stuck in his head.
“Don’t be, no. Please. Don’t apologise. It’s okay. It's okay. Just hold on to me, babe. Okay? I’m right here. Here, come here,” Isak pulls at him.
Even strains against his safety belt and maneuvers himself enough to rest his head on Isak’s chest.
“Feel my breathing? Breathe with me. 1… deep breath in… okay, good, baby. Now, exhale. Just like that. 2…”
Even closes his eyes, breaths in tandem with the rise and fall of Isak’s chest, hears his quiet reassurances (although it feels more like Isak is trying to quell his own panic and that hurts Even to ponder upon so he tries not to), feels Isak’s long, thin fingers scratching his scalp, and the other hands, clammy like his, yet still holding tightly to where Even has his palm against Isak’s stomach, and Even slowly lets go.
He feels a tear or two fall from his eyes and wet Isak’s t-shirt, but he thinks Isak wouldn’t mind. He just lets go, feeling his lungs finally, finally uncurling, expanding slowly. And if he holds on a little too desperately, a little too tightly than he should, if he mutters thank you more times than is strictly necessary while he stains Isak’s t-shirt with tears, it’s fine. Only because Isak loves him too.