Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s a completely regular morning in the Valtersen/Lien household.

Regular meaning that Vilde’s been up for about ten minutes and has already ranted about three wildly different subjects, almost knocked out the entire container of orange juice on the table, and made Isak rip out at least ten handfuls of hair.

It’s not that Isak doesn’t love his step sister dearly—he does. Deep, deep, deep down, he loves Vilde and would protect her from any evil the world might throw her way.

But the conversation (whine fest) she’s having with her father at this exact moment is one that Isak has heard pretty much every single morning since her dad and Isak’s mom moved in together, and, well. He’s grown quite sick of it.

“But dad,” she tries, voice so high pitched Isak’s ears ring. “He’s a good guy and I think he really likes me!”

“That is exactly my concern!” Andreas brings his fist determinedly down to the table. “Do you know how many young girls I have met through the years who’ve had to spend thirteen hours in a hospital pushing out a baby they’re not ready to mother because a boy really liked them? Who lose their future and youth and freedom because of good guys? Can you fathom how many ripped vaginas I have seen, Vilde? At the tender age of sixteen. Ripped.”

Vilde’s eyes are blown comically wide and she gives out a mildly panicked “dad!”, burying her face in her hands, and Isak coughs to suffocate a snort of laughter.

He finds the whole thing just a tiny bit amusing, really. It’s just Vilde’s bad luck that her father happens to be an obstetrician, and his several years in the profession combined with having a teen daughter of his own has evidently made its mark on him. It’s left him with a clear picture of just how excruciatingly life ruining a teen pregnancy can be, as well as a burning passion to protect his own child from ever ending up in that situation.

And it’s left Vilde with the strong conviction that her dad is the sole reason for all her unhappiness.

“This is so bloody unfair,” she whines. “Why is Isak allowed to date but I’m not?”

Andreas says “because Isak is responsible!” at the same time as Isak states “because I’m gay” without even looking up from his phone, and Andreas hums pensively.

“That might play a part, too,” he allows.

Vilde groans like she’s dying, and she swiftly turns to Isak.

“Can’t you just like… Get your shit together and go out with some poor guy for once so I can actually not miss out on every single good aspect of the normal teen experience?”

“Really?” Isak raises an eyebrow. “I’m not going to play a horrifying rendition of ‘guess the gay’ and risk humiliating myself by asking someone out just so William Magnusson can grope you for one evening. He’s not worthy of your time. Neither are any of the other losers in his clique.”

If Vilde’s face gets any redder Isak thinks her blood vessels might pop.

“See! Isak doesn’t even want to date! He’s hopeless, dad, at this rate I’m not going to date anyone ever in my entire life!”

“Nothing has ever sounded sweeter to my ears,” Andreas promises, and that’s Vilde’s cue to rise from the table and storm out.

Long story short, Vilde isn’t allowed to date until Isak does.

It’s a plan Andreas and Isak’s mom, Marianne, agreed on when they first moved in together and the four started living as a family. Andreas has always had strict rules for Vilde while Marianne’s raised Isak with a much looser approach, and this arrangement was a nice enough compromise to both maintain the rules each parent found suitable, while still establishing some kind of equality between the children. Of course, Vilde is highly unhappy with the way things are, because, well. Isak doesn’t want to date.

First off because Hartvig Nissen isn’t exactly a buffet table of endless gay, out guys Isak can pick and choose from. He knows maybe one or two other openly lgbt kids, and he’s not desperate enough to go after someone on the sole basis that they’re gay. Secondly… Isak isn’t the biggest fan of people in general, to be honest.

It’s not like he hates other human beings—he has his fair share of friends and acquaintances, and he does love his family even though they drive him to the verge of a nervous breakdown every three seconds. He’s just very… Skeptical, towards most human beings is all, which come on, is not that incomprehensible. His first instinct is simply not to trust other individuals. Nor is it his second instinct. Or third. Or fourth. It’s not his fault most people just aren’t trustable. That’s completely on them. And what’s the point in being nice to people if he doesn’t trust them?

None. There is no point.

Vilde is the exact opposite of him. Gullible and bubbly, so naïve it gives Isak chest pains but always indescribably kind and well-meaning at heart. A hopeless romantic, too, which—no, thank you. As far as Isak’s concerned romance is a fraud, a gross glorification of co-dependency, and he wants nothing to do with it.

Besides, Vilde’s latest crush seems to be aimed at none other than the school’s most popular—and repulsive—boy, and if Isak not dating is going to save Vilde from William Magnusson and that toxic group of company he keeps?

Isak is more than happy saving the love thing until he’s at least thirty.

Isak and Andreas are left in the aftermath of Vilde’s dramatic exit just looking at each other. Isak purses his mouth to hold back a smile and Andreas sighs, but it’s obvious he’s also a little bit amused.

“Please don’t start dating,” he says.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” 

With that affirmation, Isak leans back in his chair and redirects his attention to his phone.

~

It’s not Bergen, Eva supposes. It’s flatter. A bit more contemporary. The buildings are taller and the people a bit more urbane and they tend to look at her a little weirdly when she speaks. But it’s Oslo, it’s the capital, and it’s definitely a nice city. Could very well feel like home sooner or later.

As soon as she pulls herself together and finally learns how to make friends, that is.

She’s sitting on her own on the stone steps outside of the school, humbly watching the students passing her as she gets used to the thought of this being the place where she’ll finish the remaining one and a half years of her education. The move was quite drastic; only a week or so after Eva’s parents’ divorce was filed her mom announced that she needed a new start at a new place, and that she’d been offered a job in Oslo. Eva ended up going with her, which seemed like an exciting adventure at the time, but it’s one school day into her new and fresh life and she can already feel the anxiety starting to seep into her chest.

After all, if she lacked skills to make friends in Bergen, what are the chances she’ll magically gain them here?

She’s so lost in thought that when a cheerful voice cuts through her conscience on her left, she nearly jumps up on her feet in surprise.

“Hi!”

Eva doesn’t jump, though. Just snaps her head to where the greeting comes from with wide eyes, not entirely sure they’re even talking to her.

She’s met by three pairs of eyes on her—bright greens and deep browns, all filled with a sort of twinkling curiosity. Eva forces her mouth to widen into a smile.

“Hello,” she greets the girls back.

The girl right next to her—a red-lipped blonde with a bob cut and a grey button-down coat—gives her a wide smile in return.

“We couldn’t help but notice you’ve taken our people watching spot.”

Eva frowns and tilts her head slightly.

“Your people watching spot?”

“Yeah!” The blonde nods fiercely, gesturing to the dimpled, hijab-clad girl and the colourfully attired brunette next to her. “I’m Noora, this is Sana and Chris, and we usually sit here to watch people on our breaks—in the least stalker-y way, I swear, it’s just in good fun—And you’ve kind of taken our spot today.”

“Oh.” Eva’s cheeks start burning, “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, no, it’s okay! How about you join us?”

“Um.” This is without a doubt the oddest approach by a stranger Eva has ever encountered, but Eva is new and these girls—Sana, Chris and Noora—well, they seem nice enough. “Yeah, sure.”

“Great!” Noora fires off a bright grin, and she sits down next to Eva while carrying on the conversation. “You’re new here, right?”

“Yeah,” Eva swallows.

“I figured. We have Spanish together,” Noora nods.

Eva hums as an answer and falls into silence for a while. The three other girls keep chatting and commenting on some chosen people passing them, gossiping but without the malice, and Eva is content just listening to them for a bit. It’s a great way to familiarize herself with some of the kids at this school, actually.

(So. Like. Those magical chances that she’d gain friends here? Seems like they’re a bit higher than Eva originally thought.

Not that she minds at all.)

“Oh. And here they come,” Chris suddenly says with a hard twinge to her otherwise soft voice, and it catches Eva’s interest immediately.

Her head snaps up to follow the others’ gazes to the entrance and land the group of girls now emerging from the doors. Eva immediately understands what kind of girls they are—the charming, pretty and popular sort who’ve got smiles brighter than snow covered fields and people wrapped around their manicured fingers. Eva lets her eyes wander slowly along them, a curly, tall brunette with piercing eyes, a shorter blonde with sharp eyebrows, a dark girl with shiny bangs, and then there on the furthest left—

The most beautiful girl Eva has ever seen. She blinks rapidly.

The world is still moving around her. The wind is blowing faintly, shoes scrape pebbles against concrete, laughter echoes through Eva’s trance like whispers through a tunnel, but for Eva it’s all slowing to a halt where the only things still moving are the uneven rise and fall of her own chest, and the girl’s light steps forward.

Platinum blonde hair tucked in under a knitted, fuchsia scarf and bright eyes widened animatedly as she speaks, the girl crosses the quad with her friends and Eva can’t do anything but stare, completely mesmerized. There’s a kind of preciously lively glow around the girl, radiating childish excitement and a sort of wonder, like she loves to live and life loves her back. Eva wishes she could walk right next to her and hear her speak about all the things she loves for forever. She bets her voice sounds like starry skies and raspberries and everything sweet she can possibly think of.

“Who’s the girl with the pink scarf?” she asks, not taking her awestruck gaze off her wide beam for even a second.

Noora averts her gaze from the group to observe Eva, and the infatuation must be written all across her face because the blonde raises her eyebrows sceptically.

“That’s Vilde Lien,” she says. “And I would not if I were you.”

Eva stops listening after Vilde Lien, though. Vilde. What a pretty name. How softly it rolls off your tongue.

“Do you know if she—you know. Is into—?”

“Girls?” Noora purses her mouth and shrugs. “Rumor has it right now that she has this huge thing for William Magnusson, but—you know. I also heard her talking about how wanting to kiss girls doesn’t necessarily mean you’re gay, and in my lesbian opinion, that’s a very gay thing to say.”

Eva’s enthusiasm is slightly dampened by the mention of that boy—she knows about William already, the most popular, suave and self-absorbed guy at Nissen who everyone seems to adore. But the second part of Noora’s answer is a lot more favorable, and so that’s what she chooses to focus on.

“Is there a way to find out?”

The girls exchange meaning looks and then turn to Eva again. Empathy is written all over their features, but Eva, quite frankly, does not care. All she knows is that she needs to know Vilde and that she’ll do whatever she needs to do to accomplish it.

“Well. I think she’s looking for a French tutor,” Sana says with a raised eyebrow and Eva’s small smile widens into a grin.

“Perfect,” she sighs happily, picking up her bag from the ground and hauling it over her shoulder as she stands up. “Thank you so much.”

The three girls still sitting are looking endlessly puzzled by now, narrowed gazes shifting between each other and Eva, each other and Eva.

“You know French?” Noora asks.

“No,” Eva allows enthusiastically. “But I’m about to.”

They stare at her for a few more seconds, before their mouths draw into similar smirks. It’s kind of eerie, how in tune they are with each other.

“You’re cool, Eva.” Chris says. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“Okay!” Eva barely has the time to answer properly before she’s off, throwing them a grin over her shoulder. “And thanks again!”

~

Vilde and Eva’s first tutor session takes place in the school library at 15.10.

It was supposed to be 15.00, but Vilde rushes in late, her presence like a breath of fresh air and her hair in humble twirls, and Eva forgives her instantly.

“Right,” she says as she plops down in the chair opposite Eva. “Let’s make this quick, William offered me a ride home if I got done in 40 minutes.”

Her elbow unintentionally knocks together with Eva’s, and Eva’s eyes flutter.

“Of course. Um, how do you feel about starting with passé composé versus imparfait?”

Eva has by no means learned French even to a decent level in the week that’s passed since she saw Vilde the first time. She took a trip to the language section of the local library and borrowed some books, and she also managed to get some information out of the French teacher on what topics they’re currently covering in year two (that one Eva might regret later on as the teacher’s now of the belief that Eva loves French and is very excited to study it in her free time—she’s beamed at Eva every time they’ve locked eyes in the school corridor since. Eva usually smiles back quickly and pretends to have somewhere very urgent to be to avoid a conversation that might expose her true intentions). To her great relief, Vilde was compliant when she suggested the only area she actually knows enough to somewhat teach, and she hopes that her sentences sound coherent as she tries to recite on what occasions you’d use the imparfait conjugation.

Her slight worry seems to be in vain, though, because the more times she looks up from the book between pauses, the more she begins to realize Vilde isn’t really listening at all. Her attention is constantly on her phone, smiling giddily as she’s typing away, and the only response Eva’s getting is an absent hum here and there.

“So, to conclude, imparfait is used when you…?” She raises her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Vilde to finish for her.

“Mhm.” Vilde nods vaguely. The corners of her mouth perk upwards at whatever’s currently showing on her phone screen.

Eva realizes that yeah, okay, they’re probably not going to get any work done today. She puts down her pencil and closes her notebook before turning her gaze back to the blonde, resting her chin in her palm.

“So… What’s the deal with William anyway?” she tries carefully, putting on a small smile to cover up the twinge of bitterness that’s threatening to spill through at the idea of them together. “Are you dating?”

Unsurprisingly, that has Vilde finally looking up. She even puts down her phone on the table and sighs wistfully.

“I wish,” she gushes. “I’m sure we would be, you know, if I just… Were allowed to date.”

Eva’s world halters just a bit.

“You—can’t date?” she frowns. “Why?”

Vilde scoffs.

“Because my dad is overprotective and doesn’t trust me, I guess. So I can’t date until my step brother does.”

“Oh,” Eva bites the inside of her cheek and hopes to god that Vilde’s step brother is someone wildly adored who’s got dateable people fawning at his feet. “And who’s your step brother?”

“Only the biggest loner at this school,” Vilde rolls her eyes in frustration. “No one wants to date him and he definitely doesn’t want to date anyone. And it doesn’t really help that there aren’t a lot of other openly gay guys around here, either. So dad’s set-up is bulletproof, I guess.”

Yeah, okay. There went that plan.

“I’m sure he’s not that bad,” Eva tries, more to soothe herself than Vilde, but Vilde just snorts.

“Do you know Isak? Valtersen?”

The blank stare of Eva’s she’s receiving in return answers her question pretty clearly. Vilde purses her mouth and nods.

“Exactly. It’s a lost cause.”

So admittedly, Eva’s plan to sweep Vilde off her feet is kind of faltering in more places than one. But then again, her mom didn’t raise a fucking quitter, and surely, there must be some kind of way to solve this. Call her foolish, but Eva is determined to still have hope.

“I’m sure there’s someone. I mean, some guys go bungee jumping or cliff diving—I’m sure someone at this school would like, get a kick out of dating someone difficult. I could find someone, even.”

It’s silent for a slight moment too long, Vilde just watching Eva with her wide gaze, and Eva thinks maybe that one might be coming on a bit too strong, or—or desperate or whatever. She silently cusses herself out and opens her mouth to backtrack on the offer, but Vilde speaks before her.

“You’d do that? For me?”

And then her face slowly breaks out into a crooked smile, eyes twinkling like moons and Eva sees everything through a rose-pink lens.

“Of course I would!” she assures her. “I’ll fix it.”

She’ll fix it. If something makes Vilde look at her like that, she’ll fix it.

How difficult can it possibly be?

~

“So Vilde can’t date… Until Isak does?” Noora clarifies with wide eyes.

It’s lunchtime and they’re all gathered around a table, the other girls eager to hear whether Eva’s made any progress with the Vilde issue. (It kind of warms Eva’s heart, how interested they are in her life, and how supportive they are of her choices, and how willing they are to take her into their gang so quickly. How genuinely they seem to enjoy her company. She’s never really had that before.)

Eva just nods in confirmation, and Sana lets out a laugh next to her.

“Oh, baby, you’re screwed,” she says with an apologetic twinkle in her eye. “I sit next to Isak in bio and he’s probably the unfriendliest person I’ve had the displeasure to meet in my life. He’s going to adopt a really mean cat at the age of thirty and that’ll be the only relationship he’s ever going to be in.”

“Dude,” Chris wrinkles her nose, “that just makes it sound like Isak has some kind of cat fetish.”

“I don’t think that’s very likely,” Noora interjects pensively. “Cats aren’t really his forte, is it?”

Eva blinks a couple of times.

“Right,” she says slowly. “Listen, I’ve been thinking. There’s a party at Chris Schistad’s house this weekend, right? And I think Vilde really want to go, and well. I would, too. What if we could find some guy to take Isak out to that party?”

It’s silent at the table for a couple of seconds, Eva being met only by blank stares.

“Did you, like. Miss what Sana just said?” Noora asks with a raised eyebrow. “People doesn’t want to date Isak. And Isak doesn’t want to date people. He’s rude, snappy, uptight and quite frankly a bit scary, and on top of that, there aren’t that many guys who are out at this place.”

“Well. Walk me through the ones that are,” Eva demands, and Noora must see the stubbornness in her eyes because with a sigh, she complies.

“Right. Chris Schistad.” She turns to gesture towards the incredibly attractive boy at William’s table. “Would fuck anything with a pulse. But he and Isak hate each other with a passion for some reason. Would never work. Next up, Julian Dahl.” She gestures to another table, to a pale, blond guy currently devouring a grilled cheese sandwich. “Very gay. Vague personality. Not even close to having thick enough skin to take on Isak. Let’s see, who else do we have—“

“There’s Even,” Sana pipes up quietly.

Noora and Chris’ eyes both widen comically and they give Sana an alarmed look.

“He’s not an option.” Noora shakes her head. “No way.”

“Why not? He’d probably be perfect for Isak.”

“Who’s Even?” Eva asks, leaning in over the table curiously.

Noora sighs and nods towards something behind Eva.

“See the corner table? The douchebag currently trying to light a cigarette in the damn school cafeteria? Yeah. That’s Even.”

Eva tries to subtly look over her own shoulder to spot the intriguing boy her friends are talking about.

He is extremely pretty, is the first thing she notices. He’s got the whole cherub James Dean thing going on with his jean jacket and quiffed hair and plump lips and blue eyes. Just like Noora said, he’s indeed currently lighting a cigarette, but the guy next to him snatches it from his mouth and puts it out the moment it’s lit with a scolding expression. Even doesn’t even have the decency to look bashful about it, but rather just rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“He used to go to Elvebakken,” Noora says. “But last year something really serious went down there and after that he was pulled out of school and no one saw him for like, months. He just completely vanished off of the face of the earth. And now he’s redoing his third year here.”

“I heard he’s been in jail,” Chris contributes.

Noora frowns.

“We shouldn’t speculate about that stuff.”

“I don’t know, that’s just what I’ve heard. It’s not super unlikely, is it?”

“They’re all just rumors anyway,” Sana says, rolling her eyes. “We don’t know if any of that stuff is true.”

“I mean,” Chris ponders. “He does seem like a pretty scary guy.”

Eva’s smile’s been growing by the minute they all have been talking.

“He’s perfect,” she states. “Does anyone know how to get him on board with this?”

Noora and Chris exchange an exasperated look, but Sana looks sincerely contemplative.

“You could always pay him. Everyone loves a bit of extra cash. Though I doubt you’re that rich.”

Eva groans and buries her face in her hands. She really isn’t. She barely has enough money for McDonald’s chicken nuggets when she’s craving something fried on Friday evenings, let alone enough to pay some guy to do her a favor.

She just wants to take a cute girl out. Is that really too much to ask for?

“Well,” Noora suddenly starts, and Eva’s head snaps up to looks at her. Something has changed in the blonde’s face, her features softened and more compliant now, and Eva understands this is her agreeing to help. Eva’s going to thank her a thousand times later, promising it won’t be in vain. “You could always find a donor.”

“A donor?”

“Someone with money,” Noora clarifies. “Who’s also interested in Vilde and stupid enough to pay Even.”

She nods her head to William’s table, and it clicks for Eva.

“Oh.” Her eyebrows shoot up in realization, and Noora’s smirk grows.

“Here’s the plan. You go over and sit down at their table, and you tell William what Vilde told you about her not being able to date until Isak does, and then you drop the idea of him paying Even to take Isak out. He’ll think it’s going to benefit him and agree, when actually, you’re about to steal his girl right under his nose. Sounds about good?”

A rush of adrenaline is flowing through Eva’s veins now.

“Yeah,” she nods, “yeah, sounds good. I’ll be right back.”

She’s out of her chair before she’s even finished the sentence. Call Eva what you want, but she’s full of fearlessness and determination, and this is going to work out in her favor.

(She also might really want this done before she has the chance to think it through and start hesitating. But fearless and determined, regardless.)

She wanders up to the table with swift steps, and she sits down in the space between William and another guy she doesn’t know the name of, flashing him a bright smile when she looks at her with a lifted eyebrow.

“Hi,” she greets them. “William, right?”

“Right,” William answers, a playful smirk nipping at the corner of his mouth. “I’m sad to say I don’t know your name?”

“Oh, I’m Eva.” Eva pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I, well. I have proposition. About Vilde,” she’s quick to add when she realizes that first statement might come off as very suggestive on its own.

“You interested in a threesome, babe?” Chris says next to William, a sheepishly crooked smile on his face, and Eva fights the compelling urge to roll her eyes or like, gag.

“No,” she replies with a steady glare at him before turning back to William. “Just hear me out. You want Vilde, right? Well. I happen to tutor her in French and she told me she can’t date until her step brother Isak does.”

Chris’ cocky smirk immediately turn into a scowl at the mention of Isak, but William narrows his eyes in interest.

“Go on.”

“See,” Eva clears her throat. “What you need is to hire a guy who’s got the guts to date Isak so you can take out Vilde, yeah?”

She pauses dramatically to point to Even in the corner.

William follows her finger and his jaw goes slack for a few seconds before he looks back at her in disbelief.

“Even Bech Næsheim? I heard he sold his kidney on the black market for a new car stereo.”

“Seems like a pretty safe bet, then, no?” Eva asks. “Fearless. He’d definitely do it, given enough money.”

William thinks this over for a little while, watching Eva with a tilted head.

“What’s in it for you?” he asks.

Eva panics for a millisecond. She wasn’t prepared for that question, but of course it’d make sense that she wants something in return for this information.

She’s determined to not let her insecurity show, though, as she just shrugs graciously.

“I’m new at the school, and I could use some extra credibility. When we meet in the hallway, we say hi. When there are any cool parties happening, you let me know. Deal?”

William purses his mouth and nods consentingly.

“That’s fair,” he says. “Yeah, okay. Deal.”

“Great,” Eva grins, standing up.

“Party at my place on Friday,” Chris enlightens her as she turns to leave.

“See you there!”

Eva is hyped, filled to the brink with excitement and power when she sits down with the girls again, giving them all a smug grin. She knows that this plan could backfire and that Vilde might not even look her way with William around wanting her attention—but she can’t even be worried about that in this exact moment. What’s important is that she has a shot, however small it might be.

“Game’s on,” she announces. Chris high fives her.

Chapter Text

Isak has a free period, and he’s studying. Hard.

It’s not some light have-my-book-out-so-I-can-pass-it-off-as-studying-when-I’m-actually-not kind of studying. No. Isak takes his biology seriously. He’s completely engrossed in his book, he’s tapping his pencil against the table, he’s biting his lip in concentration. He’s even got his headphones in. A test is coming up, and he has no time to waste on procrastinating.

Overall, he looks pretty occupied. Focused. Shut off from the outside world. In his zone. To assume that Isak would in any way want company with all these signs loudly announcing the opposite would be, well. Flat out stupid.

Which is why Isak is indeed perplexed when a boy suavely sinks down in the chair opposite him.

He lifts his gaze from the book and raises an eyebrow when he sees that the boy is already watching him expectantly, urgingly. Smugly. The best tactic would probably be to just look back down in his book and ignore this intruding stranger completely, but as it is, Isak is a bit on edge today. They’d run out of coffee the night before so Isak’s morning clearly went straight to hell just there, and then he had to pass Chris and the guys in the hallway when he arrived to school, had to endure their menacing tittering and snide remarks, and to make matters even worse he had to pass them on the way to Norwegian class—the most boring subject he knows—and he’s really not feeling it today.

So he takes an earbud out and eyes the guy up and down, unimpressed.

(He’s not actually unimpressed. The stranger is really fucking hot, to be blunt, and he’s got a warm sort of mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes that has Isak unwillingly intrigued. But Isak isn’t going to acknowledge this out loud. Because Isak is not a goddamn softie.)

“Can I help you?” he settles for, his mouth pursed defiantly.

Pretty boy wiggles his eyebrows once and his plump lips stretches into a smile.

“You could, actually,” he says. “As it so happens, I have two tickets to the movies this Friday. And I’m only one person, so… You accompanying me would help me out a lot.”

Isak blinks.

It seems there are two options here. Either Isak is being genuinely asked out, or it’s a joke.

The thing is, there’s no way this guy is serious. There is no way in hell. Under no circumstances would it make sense for a tall, model-esque boy to sashay up to Isak of all people, sit down, and ask him out to the movies. The movies, without ever having spoken to Isak before in his life. Especially not with the kind of poise and certainty this boy is radiating, like he’s so sure Isak is going to say yes, yes, beautiful stranger, I would love for nothing else than going to watch a mediocre film in a dark, uncomfortably crowded theater with you.

It’s just not realistic. These things simply do not happen to Isak. Which only leaves one option left.

This guy is fucking with him. He’s playing a prank. For some reason, he thought it would be funny to sit down and ask Isak out only to ridicule him. Isak doesn’t know why he would, or who put him up to it (or actually he might have an idea or two there) but it’s disgusting and no matter how much he doesn’t want to feel it, there’s still a twinge of shame etching into his chest at the gesture. People are shit.

Suddenly, Isak’s veins are burning.

“Right,” he says slowly. “Who are you again?”

It’s meant to be discouraging, distancing, it’s meant to make Stranger’s smirk drop and his shoulders slump, but not a single muscle in his face twitches.

“Even Bech Næsheim.”

“Even.” Isak tests the name in his mouth, every phoneme dripping with the bitter taste the boy’s confidence is giving him. “Are you usually this much of an asshole?”

Even’s infuriating grin wavers just the tiniest then, his eyes narrowing slightly in bewilderment, and he turns his head a little. He’s evidently taken aback by the approach.

“Um.” He drags it out into a long syllable, laughing in a way that Isak would like to think is at least a little bit nervous. “I’m not sure what kind of answer you want.”

Isak leans forward to rest his chin in the palm of his hands, flashing Even the most insincere smile he can muster.

“I mean,” he speaks gently, “asking the gay kid out just to fuck around, not least doing it like your mere presence is doing me a favor while suggesting pretty much the only dating activity which requires literally no actual interaction or effort whatsoever on your part, and then expecting me to fawn at your feet like I have no integrity at all, is a pretty shitty move. So my question was, is this assholery a common thing for you or is it specifically reserved for this occasion?”

Isak revels in the way Even’s confident smirk finally drops comically.

“Um, I wasn’t—it wasn’t a joke.”

If Isak hasn’t already decided to hate this guy with the fire of a thousand suns, maybe he’d take pity on him. He looks so much like a baby deer caught in the headlights with those big, blue eyes of his swimming in something Isak can only describe as shock.

“Right.” Isak nods, pursing his mouth tightly. “Even if you weren’t lying right now, I still wouldn’t go on a date with you to save a life, so. Sucks to be you, doesn’t it?”

He flashes Even one last grin for good measures, before pointedly gathering his stuff and raising from his seat to search for a different place to study in peace. Even doesn’t call after him and Isak is happy he doesn’t.

What a fucking dick.

~

Honestly? Even has no idea how he allowed himself to get in this position.

Whatever game he’s agreed to here is so below him in so many ways he doesn’t even know where to start, and he curses himself out for at least the hundredth time since it all started for letting some what’s-his-name with anime hair persuade him with money to repeatedly humiliate himself for a guy who’s clearly not interested.

Even is quite a strategic guy when he wants to, so to make sense of it all, he decides to break it down into separate events.

First event: the guy sitting down next to him on a bench during a break like he’s got an invitation to be there, and introducing himself—a tad nervously and Even figures this guy, too, must be aware of the rumors surrounding him—as William.

“See the guy over there?” he says, pointing across the quad to a boy in a red snapback and worn-out sneakers. Even just raises an eyebrow at him as an answer, and William gulps visibly before continuing.

“That’s Isak Valtersen. I want you to take him out.”

Even laughs in his face then—because who the hell does this dude think he is?

“You’re funny,” he states. “Move along.”

“Look,” William tries again, a stressed wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. He doesn’t move an inch and Even gets the feeling right there and then that the guy probably really isn’t good at taking rejection. “I want to take his step sister out, but I can’t until he starts dating, too—”

“And what exactly has you thinking I would consider this my personal problem?” Even interrupts calmly.

“Well.” William dares to attempt an optimistic smile. “Hopefully the part where I’ll provide generous compensation for your service?”

This cannot be for real. Even eyes the guy up and down for several seconds, before huffing incredulously.

“You’re willing to pay me to take out some guy?” he clarifies.

And it turns out William really, seriously is. Without a single word, he pulls out no less than 500 Norwegian kroner in cash, dangling it in front of Even’s face suggestively. And despite the whole situation being undoubtedly and utterly bizarre, Even looks over at Isak once again, and he bites his lip in serious contemplation. 500 spenn is undoubtedly not something you just decline, and the longer he really looks at the boy, the more endearing does his nippy curls, the curve of his nose, the gaps of his teeth when he smiles, appear to Even.

It can’t be that bad, can it? Isak Valtersen is a very pretty boy, and it’s only a matter of a date or two. Even might even enjoy it. So in the end, he takes the money and the game is on.

(Which ended up being a big fucking mistake as Isak apparently is about as easy-going and friendly as a provoked shark. Even won’t even count that happenstance into his list of events as it’s something he’d rather just forget ever happened for the sake of his pride.)

Second event: William finding him again a week or so later, asking why nothing has happened yet. It’s in Even’s most sincere intention to get out of the deal right there and then—he shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place—but instead he hears himself say;

“I’ve upped my price.”

The infuriated look on William’s face is almost enough of a reward in itself as the guy just huffs out a disbelieving:

“What?”

“800 kroner,” Even states calmly. “Per date. And I want it in advance.”

William, quite understandably, fervently refuses at first, and Even just shrugs nonchalantly.

“Forget your girl, then.”

He gets his 800 kroner.

He’s also under even more pressure to succeed with this whole ordeal, and he has no idea how to wow Isak into even standing his presence. Great job, Even.

Third event: Sana and a friend of hers he doesn’t recognize coming up to him during his free period. (Sana introduces herself and her friend as if they’ve never met before, and Even’s thankful for her. He knows that if people found out that he knows Sana, they’re one step closer to also finding out what really happened at Bakka, and not to be overly dramatic, but Even would probably rather die.)

“Listen. We set this whole thing up so Eva can get closer to Vilde. William is just our tool, if you will.”

Even raises an admittedly kind of impressed eyebrow and eyes the two girls contemplatively.

“So… You’re going to help me tame the wild beast?” he gives them a crooked grin.

Sana’s friend—Eva, Even notes—nods.

“Yeah. Vilde’s going to help me to do some research, find out what he likes, what he doesn’t like—whatever that can possibly make this a bit easier for you.”

Even laughs self-depreciatingly.

“I’ve talked to him once and he already hates my guts. I’m not sure how much easier you can make this for me. But thanks.”

“Here’s a start.” Sana leans in a bit closer. “Chris Schistad is having a party this Friday. It’s a perfect opportunity to take him out.”

He’s not sure what exactly is so overwhelmingly special about this stepsister of Isak’s, what makes her so desirable; but Eva looks more genuine when she gives him a nervous smile than William ever could, and he also thinks that if Sana’s friend is the one he’s actually helping with all of this, maybe he’s slightly more okay with it. Sana usually has good judgment.

And that’s a wrap on what it’s taken to keep him in this game.

So, on a second thought, he kind of knows exactly just how he got here, walking through the school hall, his sight set on the locker Isak is currently struggling to fit his school supplies into. He knows that technically, all the steps that lead him to this moment, are his own fault. He can back out anytime, refuse the money and just unmake it his business again.

He just won’t. Because Even is stupid and irrational and no matter how highly he likes to think of his moral compass from time to time, it’s evidently not that strong.

(A small, unspeakable part of him also kind of really wants to annoy Isak even further as revenge for wounding Even’s ego that much. The tiniest piece of him.)

Just like last time, he slides in as if he belongs right next to Isak, leaning casually on another locker as he nods in greeting to the now slightly confounded boy.

Or, well. Confounded isn’t really the correct term. Even would probably rather go for ‘blatantly disgusted’, or ‘disbelievingly revolted’. But the point remains.

“Are you lost?” the boy nearly spits, and Even just lets his lips curl into a crooked grin.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ playfully. “I’m right where I want to be.”

“You better find somewhere else that’s out of my sight, then.”

Even grimaces. No, this is definitely not going to be easy.

“Listen,” he tries, putting on his most earnest face. “I don’t know why you think I’m fucking with you, but I’m not. I really do want to get to know you.”

Isak rolls his eyes and closes his locker forcefully, unimpressed.

“Have you ever been told ‘no’ before in your life?” he asks, and his voice is so sharp it could cut someone open. Even nearly winces.

“I just don’t think you’re fair with your assumptions. Especially since you’re wrong.”

“So that’s a no, you haven’t.”

“Isak.”

“Look, I’m really sorry I’m ruining whatever bet you have going, but it’s not happening. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you’re out of nowhere suddenly this interested in dating me for no reason.”

“Who said it’s out of nowhere? Maybe I’ve been liking you for a while. You wouldn’t know.”

“Fat chance.”

“Why are you so defensive? I just think you’re really interesting and I’d love to get to know you better.”

“Yeah?” Isak snorts and he leans in ever so slightly, staring into Even’s eyes daringly. This up close, Even can practically count the small specks of golden in his green irises. “How about you say that again when other people can hear you, hm? How about you say that again in a week?”

There’s a resenting sort of bitterness to his voice, as if he just knows Even is for some reason ashamed to make this whole ordeal known, like he’s up to something sketchy, like this is just temporary—which, well. Even supposes it is, and his stomach turns ever so slightly with guilt. He pushes it away immediately, though. He can’t do this if guilt is going to interfere.

But what’s provoking Even the most, is the way Isak seems to take it so infuriatingly for granted that Even has bad intentions. Like there’s no chance in the whole wide world that Even would ever actually want to make this a big deal—make Isak a big deal.

Jokes on him. Even never passes up on an opportunity to make something a big deal.

“Right.”

He nods to himself, and straightens his back. Isak made this bed, and so he’ll lie in it.

There is something Even swears is relief on Isak’s face as he turns away, probably a result of the curly boy thinking he’s finally getting rid of Even.

And he is, Even supposes—for now. Now, Even’s going to take a trip to the kunst-og-håndverks-section. But he’ll be back—and he’ll be back with an executed plan.

~

“So, what exactly are we doing in here?”

Eva stands in the doorway of Isak’s room, watching the piles of clothes on the floor and strewn around school work and physics books and the unmade bed.

But mostly watching Vilde, who’s currently crouching down by one of Isak’s drawers, opening it and immediately starting to root around in it.

“We need to go behind enemy lines here,” she says, dumping a bunch of video games, movies and a couple of more books onto the floor. “Isak isn’t very eager to share details about himself, so the best way for us to really find out about what he likes is to snoop around and see for ourselves.”

She sits down with her legs folded, starting to go through the several items she’s found, mumbling about how there should be a punishment for people who didn’t have a special system of what to keep in your separate drawers. Eva carefully sits down on the bed next to her. Vilde’s hair is looking especially shiny and soft today, adorned with a purple headband that pushes stubborn strands away from her face.

But Eva needs to not think about that right now. They’re here on a mission.

“So,” Vilde starts again, and Eva takes her phone out to write down whatever information might come in handy. “He plays a lot of Fifa, NHL, GTA, Assassin’s Creed… Mario Kart.” She snorts. “He doesn’t have a single book that’s not nerdy. ‘Hyperspace: A Scientific Odyssey Through Parallel Universes, Time Warps, and the Tenth Dimension’. ‘Stargazing Basics’—he doesn’t even own a telescope. ‘Cosmos’. ‘The Age of Entanglement: When Quantum Physics was born’—is any of this making sense to you?”

Eva shakes her head with emphasis. If this Isak intimidated her before, he’s now practically terrifying. No one could ever read all these mind-wrenching books in their free time without being something exceedingly posthuman.

Vilde grins at her reaction.

“I never got it, either. He’s been into all that science-y stuff for as long as I’ve known him. He’s like, super smart. I guess it’s to make up for all that social ineptness he has.”

Eva types away quickly on her phone, saving it as a rough draft to send Even later.

“What kind of guys is he into?” she asks pensively. “Does he have any past boyfriends at all? Crushes? Celebrity crushes?”

“No boyfriends,” Vilde sighs. “But he did always have a thing for young Leonardo DiCaprio.”

Eva hums. “Everyone had a thing for young Leonardo DiCaprio.”

“You too?” Vilde wrinkles her nose sceptically. “I didn’t.”

“You don’t think he’s hot?”

“I—I think he’s hot, I just—don’t see the hype.”

Vilde turns her face away, slightly flustered now. Eva bites the inside of her cheek.

“I mean, I had a thing for Kate Winslet, too, so. A real bi awakening, that movie was.” She shrugs to carry the conversation forth, looking down on her phone absent-mindedly. 

“You’re bisexual?”

The slight change in Vilde’s tone makes Eva look up again to meet the girl’s bright blue stare. There’s something unreadable in them, something that Eva dares name intrigued. It’s a bit too subtle to be something she’ll let herself be hopeful about, but just telling enough to make something bright glow tentatively in her chest anyway.

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool.”

Vilde suddenly becomes very interested in reloading Isak’s drawers in a hasty tempo. Eva doesn’t comment on it.

“Hey, are you hungry?” she asks, pushing it shut a bit too forcefully. “I could fix us something.”

“Um. It’s fine, you don’t have to.”

Eva’s eyebrows fly up as she speaks, and she eyes Vilde cautiously. The blue-eyed girl stands up and flashes Eva a bright smile that’s a tad too big.

“No, it’s fine! I could go for a cup of tea, we’ve deserve to treat ourselves. Come on.”

And then she’s out of the room in a whim, and Eva figures her only option here is to simply follow.

That’s how Eva ends up at the kitchen table with a cup of steaming tea as Vilde rushes to pick up milk, sugar, and a tupperware container of brownies before she sits down, too. She puts it all in front of Eva, stating proudly that she baked the brownies herself the other night and it’s so endearing Eva can’t help but smile dumbly as the girl chats on about the exact right amounts of cocoa and melted chocolate to include in a successful recipe. Vilde proves to be right in her pride, too, as Eva lets out a soft groan when she takes her first bite.

“These are so good. Do you bake a lot?”

“Yeah.” Vilde practically preens at the compliment, putting her elbows up on the table and leaning in in excitement. “I bake a lot when I’m stressed, and stuff. It gives you something else to focus on, you know? It just keeps me occupied. And I end up always having something to snack on at home. Or serve guests I like.”

Eva’s face heats up irrationally, and Vilde’s smile warms her up more than her tea ever could.

“Do you bake, too?” she asks then. Eva forces herself to snap out of her state enough to answer.

“Oh, no, I wish.” She laughs. “I’m terrible with baking—basic meals are alright, but I always seem to mess something up every time I try to bake. It’s tragic.”

Vilde pouts and tilts her head in compassion.

“Well, isn’t it lucky I’m your friend now, then?” she asks. “I can bake you things all the time so you don’t have to.”

It shouldn’t make her as ridiculously happy as it does, but hearing that Vilde thinks of her as a friend has Eva’s veins tingling with joy.

“We’re friends?”

“Of course we’re friends!”

Vilde’s reaches over to nudge Eva’s elbow with her hand, and it might possibly be the best moment of Eva’s life. She grins back.

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

~

There’s a banner. Even might be responsible for it.

It’s hanging over the main entrance of Hartvig Nissen, purposely put there so no one will miss it—not that it’s very hard to ignore anyway. It’s quite huge, really. Maybe even a bit excessive, but that’s okay. Excessive is Even’s middle name, and he owns it with pride.

He sits at a bench a couple of meters away, observing the huge, black capital letters written across the white fabric. He did a good job, he thinks, reading it over again and again.

Isak Valtersen is an interesting person and I’d love to get to know him better.

With love, Even Bech Næsheim.

Well. He is an aspiring director, after all—if Even isn’t living for the dramatics, who is he, really?

Several people have already entered the building and seen his work, but the particular boy Even’s anticipating has yet to arrive. It’s not that he minds waiting, really, but Isak’s just unpredictable and there’s nothing that’s not opposing the possibility that all this will just make him even angrier. It shouldn’t—Even is doing exactly what he was asked to do. He’s telling it to other people. A banner like this is pretty much equivalent to shouting it from the rooftops for the whole world to see. But Even still doesn’t know, it could all still backfire, and with every minute that passes he becomes more and more unsure.

Isak finally does arrive, though, about five minutes before the bell rings, and Even watches with glee how his hurried stride completely stops right in front of the door. His head is tipped upwards, and his arms go slack along his sides as he just stands there, seemingly unaware of all the people passing him with curious looks. Even can’t see his face, but he dares to hope he’s not this petrified with anger.

Even deems this the right opportunity to approach, and he jumps off the bench and practically skips over, stopping right next to Isak, who doesn’t take his eyes off the banner at all.

“Do you like it?” he asks. “I mean I know it’s, uh. A lot, but then I figured I don’t think I can make you dislike me more than you already do so what did I have to lose, right?”

The boy’s cheeks are a blossoming shade of pink and his jaw is slack and his eyes are wider than Even’s ever seen on anyone. As soon as he turns and catches Even’s gaze, though, he closes his mouth shut in a purse of his lips, obviously trying to cover up his flustered state.

Score.

“I, uh.” He swallows visibly. “It’s—it sure is something.”

Even gives him something he’d hope is a tentative but alluring smile.

“Seeing as every single person entering this building knows just how serious I am about this now… Chris Schistad’s having a party on Friday. Come with me?”

Isak opens his mouth hesitantly, but immediately closes it again to bite his cheek, conflicted.

“He doesn’t want me there.”

He’s trying his best to make his eyes cold, but his statement is not a ‘no’. Even’s mind is doing a small victory dance.

“Honestly?” he scoffs. He wets his lower lip and raises an eyebrow as he hold Isak’s gaze intently. “Who gives a fuck about what he wants?”

That’s what finally breaks the spell, Isak’s mouth finally mirroring Even’s as the corners of his mouth slowly perk up and his hostile demeanor melts and his eyes get a new sort of twinkle in them that he just can’t seem to stop.

He looks quite pretty like that, Even notes. A bit softer. A bit more attainable.

“Nine-thirty, then,” he states, not even trying to hide his beam as he starts backing away from Isak.

Isak rolls his eyes and huffs a “whatever”, but the crinkles by his eyes won’t quite let the contentment leave his face. Even can feel eyes lingering on his back, and he can’t help but feel triumph blossom in his chest.

Baby steps.

Chapter Text

On Friday night, Vilde descends the stairs in a pretty, purple dress and cautious footsteps, careful to not attract any form of attention from Isak or Andreas currently sitting in the living room. Isak knows it’s a doomed strategy the minute he catches a glimpse of her at the top step in the corner of his eye, and he allows himself a small smile, knowing that there’s no way she’ll be able to sneak past them without getting caught.

He’s right. When Vilde reaches the hallway, a floorboard creaks unfortunately under her feet, and Andreas does not pull a single face as he looks up at her.

“And where are you going, young lady?” he asks calmly, as if he’s been waiting for an opportunity to bust her, too. He probably has.

Judging by the way Vilde’s face scrunches up for a moment, she’s currently going through her entire profanity vocabulary in her head, and she slowly turns to face her dad.

“I’m going over to Sara. To study.”

“You’re looking awfully dressed up for studying.”

“This old thing?” Vilde laughs nervously and runs her hands along the folds of the skirt. “Found it in the back of my closet. Just thought I’d put it to use for once.”

Isak just looks between Vilde and Andreas, and he can’t help the amused chuckle he lets out.

“She’s going to a party at Christoffer Schistad’s house,” he tells Andreas casually. “Sleazy type. Got lots of disgusting, big, male friends. There’s going to be lots of alcohol. And then when there’s enough alcohol, there’s going to be lots of unsafe s—”

“That’s enough, thank you, Isak!” Andreas’ face is already a bit red. “Vilde, you’re not going.”

Vilde looks at her dad, her jaw slack and her eyebrows grazing her hairline as her hope seems to crumble. Instantly, she turns to Isak with fire in her eyes.

“Are you really dead set on ruining my life?” she exclaims.

“It’s Chris’ party, Vilde. I’m doing you a huge favour.”

Isak rolls his eyes and goes back to his book to showcase how done he is with his involvement in this conversation, and for a moment, the conversation does seem to be a finished one. Silence—a frustrated one on Vilde’s part, but silence nevertheless—settles around them, and Isak deems it safe to finally sink back into the detailed description of wormholes that he’d been caught up in before Vilde came and ruined their peace.

But Isak should know better, he really should, so he internally shames his body for flinching a little with surprise when Vilde suddenly starts speaking again, directed at him.

“Can you forget about your whole loser-and-proud ordeal for one night and go to the party, so I can have this?”

What?

Isak puts down his book with a frown.

“Do not drag me into this, please.”

“You dragged yourself into this the minute you mentioned the party. Besides, I have to if I want to go!”

“Do I look like I’m ready to go to a party?” Isak asks incredulously, gesturing towards his sweats and hoodie. There’s a tomato sauce stain on his sleeve and he makes sure to enhance it particularly to further prove his point.

Vilde looks ready to fight back anyway, but she’s interrupted when the doorbell rings, making them all jump a little. Vilde makes a move towards the sound but Isak hurries up to answer it before her, eager to get out of the conversation.

His plan falls flat, however, because when he throws the door open, he’s met by none other than Even Bech Næsheim on their porch, car parked outside and anticipating smirk on his lips. Isak decides tonight is not his night.

Even raises an eyebrow at Isak’s decidedly very slouchy outfit.

“Already dressed up, I see,” he comments lightly, mouth pulling into a crooked smile.

Isak hasn’t seen Even since the whole banner incident—which, quite frankly, still makes his cheeks burn just at the thought—and now he’s at Isak’s door in a tight, white t-shirt and his hair perfectly styled while Isak probably still has pizza crumbs on his hoodie from dinner. Isak is, quite honestly, offended.

“I’m not going to a party,” he repeats, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, you are,” Even insists. “Nine-thirty, right? I’m a couple of minutes late, but.”

“I didn’t agree to this.”

He’s not going to a party. A dumb boy is not going to make Isak suddenly abandon his strict no-partying agenda he’s been keeping up perfectly for a whole year. Isak’s so busy glaring at Even that he’s quite startled when Vilde steps up in front of him, putting her hands on his forearms to grab his attention.

“Isak. I’m begging you, as a sister and friend, to please do this one thing for me. Please, Isak.”

Her eyes are wide and baby blue and so, so full of hope, and Isak feels his defence crumble a little. Vilde seems to realize this, too, because she adds one more “please” and watches him even more intently.

“Vilde, I don’t want to go,” he tries weakly.

“Look,” Vilde raises her eyebrows and her voice is slow the way it becomes when she’s ready to make her most compelling arguments. “It’s Friday. You don’t have any plans. You’d be making your sister so happy. And you got a boy on your doorstep. Doesn’t destiny go together with all your star stuff?”

“That’s not how that works,” Isak mutters.

“Well. I don’t see any other excuse for this other than this being the universe telling you to go to this party. So please, please, do this for me?”

Isak’s eyes jump between his step sister, Even, and Andreas, again and again, trying desperately to find a valid excuse to not go.

But he can’t. He can’t, and this evidently means so much to Vilde—and, well, a tall, hot boy is patiently waiting in Isak’s doorway with his car keys in hand. Not that Isak would ever admit out loud in his life that that plays any part in his decision, though.

Regardless, at last he gives out a deep, resigning sigh.

“Fine. I’ll make an appearance. But no pre-drinks. No afterparty activities. We’re going straight to the party and afterwards we’re going straight home. Okay?”

Vilde squeals with delight and Isak gives Andreas an apologetic grimace when he sees the horrified look on the man’s face.

When Isak finally catches a glimpse of Even’s expression again as he turns to head off and change into something that’s at least clean, the boy’s smile is wide and shiny.

~

Eva dares to be fairly optimistic about tonight.

She and Chris are going to the party together, Sana and Noora having only been with them to pre-drinks but had to leave afterwards as Sana’s oldest brother is in town, and Noora promised to help her flatmate renovate his room. They’re both supportive of Eva, though, assures her again and again that tonight will be great, and that Vilde would be blind not to start slowly but surely falling for her. They’re good friends. Eva likes them so much. She hopes they’ll stick around.

The party is already quite in full swing when they arrive, loud music blaring throughout every open space of the house and the air already thick with warmth from the guests. Eva and Chris are both already pretty tipsy, and Eva’s body is buzzing with anticipation to see Vilde, foot tapping against the floor to relieve some of the energy in her body.

Chris notices, and takes her hand to pull her into the mass of dancing people in the living room.

“I love this song!” she exclaims into Eva’s ear, instantly starting to move her body to the beat. Eva can’t do much except mimic it, looking around to take in her surroundings as she does.

She recognizes quite a few people, actually. Guy-Chris and William are already here—makes sense, Eva figures, since it’s Chris’ party—and so are a few of Vilde’s friends. She also catches Elias, a guy in her social studies class, an unlit joint between his fingers as he heads for the door with a crew of four or five people.

They continue dancing for a while, until Eva’s starting to crave some refreshment. She pulls Chris in to tell her so, and the girl nods enthusiastically before once again grabbing Eva’s hand and making a beeline for, this time, the kitchen.

It’s on the way there that Eva finally notices her.

She hears Vilde before she sees her—her high-pitched tone rings like wind chimes and when Eva’s head snaps to the direction of the sound, she catches her in the middle of hugging another girl, grinning into her shoulder as she keeps talking. Eva’s heart is suddenly warmer and mushier than it’s ever been.

Isak and Even are nowhere to be seen at the moment, but Eva figures that if Vilde is here, the two of them must be around as well. She’s gotta hand it to Even—he’s good.

“Vilde! You made it,” she exclaims gleefully as soon as the girl is free to approach, going in for a quick hug which Vilde reciprocates.

Without feeling overly creepy, Eva breathes in Vilde’s scent as her nose is momentarily buried in the blonde girl’s neck. She smells like peaches and her embrace is warm, and Eva lets herself imagine for just a split of a second what it’d be like to wake up next to her, wrapped up in a duvet with Vilde’s soft breath on her jaw.

The image fades away as they pull back again, a wide grin on Vilde’s face.

“Isak might not be so bad,” she allows, nodding behind Eva, and when Eva turns she can spot Isak move through masses of people uncertainly. “Even though I’m pretty sure he’s not here for me.”

Even is right behind him. Eva has to purse her lips not to grin with Vilde.

“That’s—” she starts, but she’s quickly interrupted by someone else coming right up to them, attaching himself to Vilde’s side as if he belongs.

“Fancy seeing you here,” William says into Vilde’s ear, and the way Vilde squirms with an excited smile makes Eva’s heart drop into her stomach immediately.

“Oh, hello!” she greets him, positively preening under his attention.

Vilde turns back to Eva then and just gives her an apologetic look, and then she lets William drag her away somewhere else, away from Eva. Eva looks after her, a strange sinking feeling in her chest.

~

As it turns out, Isak is a bit of a hostile mess when drunk.

It’s not that Even is completely surprised by the fact—Isak is kind of a hostile mess when sober, too, so it makes sense.

What seems to trigger the whole thing is no one less than Chris Schistad. When they arrive to the party, Isak is seemingly just fine after Even managed to loosen him up a little by some bantering back and forth on the car ride there, and Even is hopeful. They immediately lose Vilde in the crowd, which does make Isak a bit jittery, but Even manages to talk him out of that, too.

“She’s 17 years old, Isak. She can look after herself.”

“She’s too trusting. Someone with really bad intentions could come along and—” There’s a troubled crinkle between Isak’s eyebrows, and Even understands that he must care a lot for Vilde, despite their obvious differences and bickering. It kind of makes Even’s heart ache a little, because given only their first encounter and also Isak’s general aura, Even wouldn’t guess that he cares about anything. But his palpable distress about his stepsister is very telling, and the more Even actually is around Isak, gets to witness his quirks and mannerisms first-hand, the more he starts to kind of like him.

(And the worse he’s starting to feel about this whole setup. But he’s very, very determinedly tucking those feelings away to some place insignificant and distant.)

“Listen,” Even cuts him off gently, placing his hands on Isak’s shoulders. “Give Vilde a bit more credit, okay? She’s going to be fine. And if something against all odds were about to happen to her, she’s got a lot of friends here. You are allowed to relax.”

Isak is reluctant, but he gives in, and from there on Even dares to hope things are going to go quite smoothly.

Cue Chris.

It’s almost laughable, really, in the most tragic of ways, how the guy’s presence just radiates a mood-dampening, icky kind of energy that sinks into the molecules of the air and automatically pulls Isak’s shoulders down. Even knows from the first syllable he utters that this isn’t going to be good.

“Isak?” Chris exclaims as he approaches from somewhere behind them, face immediately stretching into a grin to hide his resentment. It doesn’t really work. “Fancy seeing you around.”

“Chris,” Isak deadpans. “I’d hate to stay and chat.”

He makes a move to leave with Even, but Chris swipes his tongue slyly over his bottom lip and asks:

“So where’s Vilde, then?” at which Isak freezes and rapidly snaps his head back to give him a glare that Even thinks should kill Chris on the spot. “I saw her when she came in, but I seem to have lost her. She’s looking fine tonight.”

“You keep your fucking hands off Vilde.”

“Oh, I won’t touch her. But William’s got his sight set on her and, uh… She’s seeming pretty keen.”

Even’s always thought Chris to be a pretty handsome guy, but the way he’s talking about Vilde and looking at Isak now, patronizing and excruciatingly smug, makes Even’s upper lip curl in disgust.

Chris leaves then, but that’s all it takes, really, to get Isak worked up and stuck in his own head again, throwing Even’s previous work out the window.

“Isak,” he tries, grazing Isak’s arm to get his attention. Isak flinches away from it.

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps.

“What’s Chris’ deal?”

“He’s just a fucking asshole. Don’t care about anything he says. I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

Behind them a guy suddenly comes up to them offering a plate of tequila shots, and Isak swiftly turns around and downs two right after each other. His face scrunches up and he chokes down a cough as he swallows the burning liquid with determination, and the guy gives him an encouraging slap on the back. Even gives the stranger such a blatantly unimpressed look he immediately disappears after that.

“Isak, I don’t think that’s the solution to your problem,” he tries when they’re alone again, alarmed wrinkle starting to deepen between his eyebrows.

Isak snarls.

“What solution? What problem? I’m just getting drunk, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at parties?” he asks, the sweet smile that accompanies it a bit too stingy around the edges.

“Not necessarily, no,” Even replies, and Isak just snorts insolently.

“Whatever. I’m getting more.”

And then he’s off alarmingly quickly, before Even has the time to recognize it or react, and then Even’s left alone in the crowded living room of Chris Schistad.

Fuck.

So much for things going smoothly, huh?

While looking around the room helplessly for that golden set of curls, Even cusses himself out lengthily and elaborately for putting himself in this position, for falling prey to greed and capitalism and green, stormy eyes and accepting money to essentially babysit the most difficult toddler he’s ever encountered.

Isak is out of sight, but Even can note that Chris has retreated back to his group of gross-looking friends on the living room sofa. He’s hanging off the armrest, right next to William and—oh. And Vilde. 

That went quickly, Even thinks, tilting his head a little to eye Isak’s step sister and her supposed crush interact. His eyebrows slowly knit together more and more as he actually has time to see the couple’s dynamic.

William is evidently in his essence—coy smolder in place and countless people around him like a swarm of flies oozing unmotivated admiration. Even can’t help but wrinkle his nose momentarily at it. If it weren’t for the money he’d truly never want anything to do with a guy like him.

But if William’s ridiculousness was all there was to the scene, Even would’ve probably found it amusing. That’s not what has him concerned.

No. What’s making the corners of his mouth increasingly perk downwards is how immensely stiff Vilde’s back is and how she seems to squirm under the arm William has casually thrown over her shoulders.

He just keeps watching, frown deepening progressively as he watches Vilde’s smile grow faker and faker, her hands rubbing together more and more frantically, and no one around her seeming to notice the slightest bit. He wants to go up there and pull her away—he doesn’t know her, but she has a deer-caught in-headlights-eqsue aura that makes him want to protect her, that probably makes most people want to protect her.

(Even also knows that if Isak saw this, he’d be distraught beyond words, but he likes to think that doesn’t play any part in why he’s so worried about the girl.)

It doesn’t take long before Vilde excuses herself, flashing the group a big smile that melts off her face as soon as she turns around from them, and starts heading for the kitchen. Even throws a quick glance at the rest of the crowd, still not spotting Isak, and decides swiftly that he does have time for this one thing before going back to his main mission.

He catches Vilde in the kitchen, where she’s just simply standing by the sink, making no movement to get anything or walk back out. He walks up beside her and gently nudges her arms to get her attention. Vilde’s gazes goes from confusion, to recognition, to even further recognition, and Even figures she must also be in on this whole Isak-plan.

“Hey,” he says a tad awkwardly.

“Hi,” Vilde replies. “Um. Even, right?”

Even gives her a nod and the raises an eyebrow as he looks around them.

“So, are you here to get something or do you just enjoy standing around in kitchens?” he asks, daring a small smile.

Vilde purses her mouth, visibly conflicted, and her gaze flicks between Even and the doorway a couple of times, until she closes her eyes and sighs in resignation.

“I’m actually… I’m actually kind hiding for a bit,” she admits.

“Hiding, huh?”

“Yeah.” Her shoulders are drooping now, as if exhausted. “I just—William and his friends are really cool, but I don’t know if they’re… My people. They just talk about themselves and I barely get a foot in with the conversations and—I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I just—I don’t feel comfortable. They asked if I wanted to come with to this afterparty at William’s and I just bolted.”

Even’s heart aches for her. She looks so terribly lost and confused and sad, and it doesn’t suit her.

“You shouldn’t do anything you don’t want to,” he tells her. “Even if it’s hanging with the most popular guy in school. Maybe especially then, knowing him.”

Vilde is quiet for a moment, teeth biting down on her lower lip and eyes meeting the floor.

“I don’t get it,” she says at last. “I like him. He likes me. I just feel—this is what I’ve wanted and now it just feels wrong and uncomfortable and I’m getting cold feet. I’m such a wimp.”

“Wow, now.” Even puts his hands gently on her forearms to regain her attention, meeting her wide gaze with as much sincerity as he can convey. “You’re not a wimp. If you’re not comfortable with something, you should trust your gut, okay? If you ignore it and do something you don’t want, you’re only going to feel bad and you’re going to regret it.”

Vilde seems to begrudge this.

“All my friends are going, too,” she says next, biting down on her lip miserably. “To the afterparty. So I don’t—I don’t want to stay here on my own.”

Even nods, considering that for a moment, before a little lightbulb goes off in his head.

“There’s always Eva,” he suggests. “Isn’t she here tonight? I bet she’d love to keep you company.”

“Eva?” Vilde mumbles, as if the girl hadn’t crossed her mind until now. “Eva,” she says again, in confirmation. “Yeah. Eva’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Even agrees, putting a hand on her shoulder in comfort and catches her gaze intently. “Go find Eva, okay?

“Okay.” Vilde nods with purpose, more to herself than to Even. “Yeah, okay.”

She turns around to leave, but Even has one last thing to ask her.

“Oh, and Vilde? Have you possibly seen Isak around?”

“No,” she turns around again and frowns. “You mean he’s off on his own? At a party?”

“Seems so. I think Chris Schistad pissed him off and then he vanished.”

“Oh.” Vilde nods slowly as she drags out the vowel. “Yeah, seems about right. Honestly, if you ever figure out what it is about the two of them that makes them hate each other so much, please report back to me. They’re ridiculous.” 

With those words, she flashes him a thankful smile, gives him a dainty wave, and then turns around and vanishes before Even can say anything back.

She’s a nice girl, he notes. Even still doesn’t quite understand why exactly she’s so desirable, but he gets Isak’s protective streak. And he also feels even worse for accepting money for a plan that pushes her in the arms of William—especially when she clearly doesn’t actually want him.

And speaking of this whole plan—he has a boy to keep out of trouble tonight. With a sigh so deep and long he feels faint with it, he leaves the kitchen to resume his original assignment.

~

The rest of the night for Eva looks like this:

She doesn’t get another chance to talk to Vilde, because Vilde hangs after William everywhere he goes. They talk, and they drink, and they laugh, and Eva just watches them like some creepy stalker. It’s not that she tries to focus on other things—she absolutely does. But Vilde and William seems to always be around and their presence is so loud and magnetic and Eva just can’t look away.

She would love to pretend it doesn’t hurt—she has no right to expect anything, and she’s known all along that the reason Vilde even wanted to go to this party in the first place is because William was going to be here. It shouldn’t hurt, but it really, really does.

Vilde is currently sitting on a couch, chatting and blabbering and glowing around William and his friends. Like this is the world she’s supposed to be in—a completely different one than the one in which Eva exists. She might as well be miles and miles away. Knowing her has never felt impossible, but it does now. She’s the fairytale character, and Eva’s just reading the book wishing endlessly she could mesh into the pages.

When William sneaks a hand around her shoulders, Eva knows she has to get away from there.

Stumbling from the living room to the front door without bumping into a handful of people on the way is a bit of a project, but she manages, and when the chilly late summer night air washes over her, her mind clears if only just a little bit. She dumps down on the front steps, instantly curling her arms around her knees and trying her uttermost not to cry. She can’t turn into even more of a loser tonight, so she begs her tear canals to be kind just this once.

They seem to only sort of listen, because even though she manages to not shed any tears, her vision is slightly blurred, anyway.

That’s where she is when Chris finds her.

”Um. Eva?”

Eva startles a little and turns to see her friend eyeing her cautiously.

Chris’ posture is rigid and her face is visibly uncomfortable, and Eva hasn’t known her for that long but she’s gathered that the girl isn’t exactly the willingly profound type. She’s humour and jokes and lightening the mood, but Eva doesn’t really want her mood to be lightened right now, and Chris probably knows that, too.

It doesn’t stop Chris from silently sitting down next to her, though. She takes a mouthful or two of her beer, likely waiting for Eva to start the conversation, and while Eva kind of doesn’t want to bother her if she knows that it makes Chris uncomfortable, she also realizes that the silence is Chris offering to listen. And she kind of wants to talk, too.

“I think Vilde really likes William,” she therefore says at last, and her heart weighs a little heavier with every spoken syllable. “This plan was stupid and rushed. We shouldn’t have done it.”

“Hey, now.” Chris’ voice is soft but reproachful as she puts a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Let’s slow down, alright? What’s going on?”

“Well,” Eva rubs her nose with the back of her hand. “She gave me about three seconds of her time before she disappeared with William and she looks happy and she’s laughing at everything he says and I don’t think she’ll ever really see me as anything but a friend.”

It’s silent for a beat, Chris nodding to herself and pursing her lips to the side in search for a good answer. Eva doubts there is one that won’t make her feel even more miserable—having Chris confirm that Vilde probably isn’t into her will most likely make her cry, but Chris trying to convince her that Vilde can still like her as something more would just make her feel like she’s being coddled.

“Look,” Chris starts at last. “You might be right about us having been too quick about this. But that doesn’t mean you have to just cut ties and give up, Eva. I think we all understood from the beginning that it wasn’t going to be easy? Vilde isn’t out—we don’t even know one hundred percent certainly that she’s actually gay yet. This wasn’t ever going to be smooth sailing. Besides, just giving up on everything having to do with Vilde because she might not like you back is kind of fuckboy-ish.”

That makes Eva frown in realization, and she looks up at her friend.

She’s right. Eva knows she is. Vilde blowing her off tonight for William stings, but it’s not like Eva genuinely expected her to suddenly drop everything as soon as Eva came into the picture, either. That would be stupid. And Eva already likes Vilde enough to know that she’d rather have her as a friend than nothing at all, but she got way ahead of herself and now the disappointment of realizing how high her hopes have been tastes just that much bitterer.

“I don’t want to cut ties with her, that’s not what I meant,” she mumbles at last. “I just—I’ve been far too optimistic. Why would Vilde be with me, anyway? We’re in completely different leagues.”

“Hey,” Chris frowns. “We’ve all been optimistic—your enthusiasm is exciting. We want this to work out for you. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. And I definitely don’t think anyone or anything should ever make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want.”

Eva looks up, startled by the eloquence of Chris’ words, and Chris just looks sincere. There’s no stiffness left in her gaze—she just wants to help.

Eva is so grateful.

“So what do I do?” she at last asks dejectedly, and Chris purses her mouth pensively.

“If you want to do what’s best for both you and Vilde, you lay off the whole dating thing and just be her friend for a while. If she in fact is a closeted lesbian, she’s by the looks of it probably having a hard time right now. She could use a good friend. And generally, if she’s a person worthy of your time at all, she’ll realize what a dick William is eventually. Let it come naturally, yeah?”

It makes sense. Eva knows she tends to rush when she gets excited, that she can get caught up in the concept or fantasy of something too quickly, and it’s nice to have someone to make her come back down. Honestly—she does want to be Vilde’s friend. She’s more than happy being Vilde’s friend. Making friends with someone for the sole purpose of wanting a relationship is something that’s always made Eva’s nose scrunch up anyway—she’s not going to be that entitled and selfish.

If it’s going to happen, it will happen.

Eva’s breathing feels a little less clogged now, and she’s so grateful for Chris and her advice she even manages a smile.

“Yeah,” she nods slowly. “Yeah. You’re right. Thank you, Chris.”

No more rushing. That makes sense. That feels like a good call.

No more rushing.

Eva leans against Chris’ shoulder, and Chris lets her. They sit like that for a while, in agreeable silence. The party is still loud and chaotic inside, but Eva feels more tranquil than she has in a while. She’s not really up for a party anymore, if she’s honest—right now her bed and some Netflix and maybe just a good slice of buttered toast feels way more appealing, and she considers voicing this out loud to Chris.

What happens next is probably the one thing she expected the very least to happen in this moment.

“Eva?” A voice behind them utters.

By now Eva knows exactly who the high, airy voice belongs to, and she, once again, turns her torso to look behind her.

And, yeah. It’s Vilde. Vilde’s standing there, gaze flicking between Eva and down on her own feet uncertainly, and she wets her lips before continuing with whatever she wants.

“Could you—walk me home?”

Eva’s at loss for words the first couple of seconds—her eyebrows shoot up and she eyes the blonde, perplexed.

“I, uh. Don’t you want to be with your friends, or whatever?”

Vilde scrunches up her nose for a second, still steadily avoiding meeting Eva’s wondering eyes.

“Well,” she says, dragging the vowel out uncertainly. “There’s this afterparty at William’s and all of my friends are talking about it but I’m not really—I’m just not feeling it. And I was thinking to just stay here with you for a little while longer but I’m just a bit tired, so I’d rather head home, and… And I don’t really want to walk alone.”

Eva throws a look at Chris, still sitting beside her, widening her stare and hoping that alone signifies the ‘help me’ she’s trying to convey. It seems to, because Chris mimics her expression with a tiny nod and flicks her eyes towards Vilde, and Eva isn’t an expert at this, but she’d like to think that ‘go for it’ is what Chris is trying to convey back at her.

“I can—it’s fine if you can’t, or don’t want to,” Vilde starts again when she doesn’t get an immediate reply. “It’s probably weird to ask that of you, to just leave the party because I want to go home—I could find another way, or something. I could go on my own, I’m sure nothing would happen, but—”

“No!” Eva protests, swiftly standing up and dusting off her skirt. “No, it’s fine. I was thinking of heading home anyway. Chris, are you coming, too?”

Chris looks in-between them for a moment, tilting her head in contemplation.

“Nah. Think I’m going to stay tuned for that afterparty,” she decides at last, firing off a vibrant smile. “You guys go ahead! Be safe!”

“You sure?” Eva asks as she start slowly backing away. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Chris snorts. “I’m at a party! And at parties everyone’s my friend.”

Eva scans her friend’s face for any sign of uncertainty, but when she doesn’t find anything, she settles for a nod and a smile.

“Okay. Have fun for the three of us, I suppose.”

“You know I will!”

“And text me when you’re home.”

“Yes, mum.”

Eva’s smile widens into a soft grin. She does love Chris.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you! Bye, Vilde!”

Vilde waves half-heartedly as well, and then they’re off.

The walk is slightly awkward to begin with—none of them really knows what to say or whether to say anything at all. Eva wants to ask about why Vilde didn’t go with her friends, but she also kind of doesn’t want to hear Vilde gush about how wonderful William is. Just because she’s laying off the whole girlfriend mission doesn’t mean she’s emotionally sturdy enough for that just yet.

Vilde looks like she’s about to speak several times—Eva can tell from the seconds at a time she allows herself to look over, observe her rosy cheeks and fidgety hands and flickering gaze. She inhales as if the words are right on her tongue, but she lets them die every time, so in the end Eva decides to encourage her a little.

“Are you cold?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s okay,” Vilde waves a hand dismissively. “Did you, um. Did you have fun tonight?”

Eva didn’t really, but she’s not about to tell Vilde that she spent the whole time sulking because Vilde wouldn’t give her attention. “Yeah, sure. It was fun.”

“Chris’ house is like, really nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Wish he was as nice.”

“He’s funny, though,” Vilde hums. “William’s got a bit of a too cool for you attitude, you know?”

Eva snorts. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“Can I be honest?” Vilde asks, a humorous glint in her eye. “He’s a little boring, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Hot, but boring. I think I prefer your company.”

Eva, for the sake of proving that tonight’s talk has made an actual impact on her, shouldn’t be suddenly bursting at the admittance—but her heart feels like it’s about to soar right out of her ribcage, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.

She doesn’t say anything back, just smiles brightly at Vilde who reciprocates it playfully.

The rest of the walk home is quiet, but it’s comfortable this time around and Vilde’s hand keeps brushing against Eva’s.

Yeah. She can get used to this. If it never turns into more than this, Eva would still be thankful. Vilde’s crept into her life alarmingly fast, but there’s no going back now, and Eva can’t help but feel like, yeah. They’re supposed to be here. Together in a way or another.

She can’t do more but hope Vilde feels even a fraction of that, too.

~

To his own big relief, Even doesn’t have to fret for too long until he find Isak again.

The moment he enters the hallway, he nearly collides with a gangly, warm body, and when he puts his arms on the person’s shoulders to keep them back, he realizes it’s indeed Isak Valtersen standing before him, a glass of very questionable liquid in hand which Even has no idea where it’s come from, and with a evidently drunken flush on his cheeks.  

“Isak!” He pushes his fringe away from his face and eyes Isak disapprovingly. “Where did you go?”

Isak shrugs and takes a few, long mouthfuls of his drink, before lazily wiping his mouth and locking his gaze with Even’s—as well as he can, that is. As drunk as he is, it keeps wavering just the slightest. Jesus Christ.

“They have so much free booze here,” he says gleefully, holding out his glass to Even. “Want some?”

Even just shakes his head and Isak shrugs, going for downing it himself, but Even catches his hand before the fluid reaches his mouth and keeps it away from there with a reproachful look.

“I don’t think you should have any more,” he says, and anger flashes in Isak’s eyes.

“You don’t get to decide over me,” he snaps, pulling his arms towards himself and spilling out the content over his shirt in the process. He groans and throws Even another glare, before taking off in another direction, squeezing himself through an especially crowded area and away from Even.

Even is about to dive right after him, but he’s stopped by an arm on his shoulder pulling him back again, and then he’s face to face with William.

This is already too much for one evening.

“Dude,” William says, slapping him on the back as if they’re friends. “How the fuck did you get Valtersen to loosen up?”

Not that Isak’s behaviour would be the dictionary definition of ‘loosen up’ in Even’s eyes, but considering his usual behaviour Even supposes he can see where William is coming from.

He’s content with only giving William a pointed eye roll before squeezing into the mass of people Isak had just a few seconds ago. The people seem to be circling the dining table, which has turned into an elevated dance floor of sorts, and—

And oh, god.

Isak’s on the table. He’s on the table and he’s got his stupid glass that’s nearly spilling over with every sway of his hips, and he’s dancing with some girls and all his limbs seem to be buzzing with alcohol and people are cheering and laughing and Isak is just—

Well. He’s a little mesmerizing, if Even’s honest, this carefree and loose. He almost forgets he should probably pull him down from the table for a minute—Isak’s smile is too genuine and his eyelids flutter prettily, and it seems like a crime to be the one to interrupt it.

Turns out Even doesn’t have to be the one to commit it, though, because as Isak dances with his back against Even, he inches closer and closer to the edge of the table, and not realizing where he’s going, he puts his foot out a bit too far. His eyes widen comically and he lets out a startled yelp as he suddenly slips, falling helplessly towards the ground.

Even catches him bridal style and the fact that Isak doesn’t whack him around the head but rather just laughs and turns his head into Even’s shoulder definitely says something about just how off his face he must be.

They’ve had enough for tonight, Even decides in that moment. Whether Isak wants to or not. Vilde is already on her way home, and Even frankly fears for Isak’s emotional state in the morning if they stay here for longer and enable more thoughtless behaviour.

“Alright, come on. We’re going to go and drink some water,” he says, brushing Isak’s fringe away from his face and attempts to help him stand on his own.

“Water,” Isak scoffs. “Life of the party, you are.”

“That’s me,” Even agrees, proceeding to deliver Isak safely to the kitchen. It’s quite empty, save for three or four other people, and it’s closed off enough that the music becomes just the slightest bit muffled and your head a tiny bit clearer.

Isak actually stays in place, leaning against the counter, as Even raids the cupboards after a glass. He picks one out with a print of Moomin on it, one of those you get at Max if you order a kid’s meal, and turns the tap on, letting the water run until it’s ice cold.

“You know that’s not very environment friendly,” Isak points out.

Even huffs in amusement.

“You’re off your face, but you still have time to lecture me on sustainable development.”

“I always have time to talk about sustainable development. Although Jonas is even better. You should hear him once he gets going. Doesn’t ever stop.”

Isak’s just kind of rambling at this point, but Even finds it entertaining and, honestly, just the tiniest bit endearing, so he lets him be. He turns to hand him the full glass of water, and Isak downs the whole thing without coming up for air. Even decidedly does not watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows mouthful after mouthful.

“I like Moomin,” he tells Even when he’s done, inspecting the glass with a sort of childish amusement.

“Yeah?” A smile starts to grow on Even’s face. “That makes sense. You’re a lot like Little My.”

Isak’s eyes immediately widen as his brow furrows furiously and he puts the glass down a bit too forcefully to underline how scandalized he is.

“I’m—I am not!” he sputters. “I am intimidating!”

“I’m sure if you asked Little My she’d call herself intimidating, too.”  

The pout on Isak’s lips is defiant and rosy from the iciness of his drink, and he huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Whatever. You’re the actual real life personification of Snufkin, anyway. Stupid hipster.”

That does make the shadow of a grin fully broaden across Even’s features, and he ducks his head a little to give Isak a look.

“Cute. Are you going to curl up and sleep in my pocket, then?”

Isak isn’t charmed at all. Not a single muscle in his face moves as he just stares for a good ten seconds.

“I am over one-eighty meters tall, Even.”

“And I’m one-ninety. We could make it work.”

“I truly do want you to pass out in a ditch.”  

“Charming.”            

Isak wiggles his eyebrows with mirth.

“That would be me.”

He shoots off from his half-standing position, probably aiming to stand up straight, but he clearly miscalculates how much power he needs to get there and instead of a swift and smooth shift like he meant, he instead stumbles forward and almost falls flat on the floor. Even is the only thing to prevent it, rapidly flinging his arms out to grip his shoulders and pull him back up.

Isak falls back against the counter, and Even is suddenly way closer to his face than what’s entirely comfortable. His hands are still on Isak’s shoulders, and Isak’s watching him in a way he hasn’t before, a sort of bold observation, and Even can’t even move away. Isak smells good, he notices. Beyond the alcohol coming off his breath, there is something quite soft—laundry detergent and citrus and freshly cut grass, and Even really doesn’t mind it at all.

“Your eyes are so blue,” Isak states at last, tilting his head in wonder. “Is that why you’re always so happy, ‘cause you got a clear blue sky in there?”

He taps a finger to Even’s temple. Even just snorts, figuring right now is probably not the best time to go into just how unpredictably stormy of a sky his mind can be.

“Let’s go outside,” he decides. “Let’s go outside, okay? You need some fresh air.”

“I need you to stop babying me,” Isak mumbles sourly, but he makes no move to protest or defy Even when he sneaks an arm around Isak’s waist and starts leading him through the living room and to the hall and finally out of the house.

The fresh air hits against Even’s face, washing his mind from the incoherent jumble his thought slowly became from the drunk, loud warmth of the indoors. He hopes it’s doing the same for Isak, and he methodically takes them away from the porch and away until he finds a free, distant spot on the front lawn. It's a little too cold to be entirely comfortable out by now, but he figures it’ll do and his grip on Isak’s waist tightens as he slowly sits him down.

“The grass is wet,” Isak starts whining immediately, and Even suppresses an eyeroll.

Before properly sitting down himself, he hauls his jacket off of his shoulders and lays it down on the ground under him, scooting to the side of it enough to be able to pull Isak onto it as well.

“Better?” he asks, and Isak just looks up at him and Even sees him swallow weakly before determinedly turning his gaze straight before him. They’re sitting impossibly close now, their bodies lining up from their shoulders and all the way down to their ankles, and while the warmth radiating off of Isak’s body is nice and comfortable as a contrast against the slight chill of the midnight air, it still makes the hair on his arms stand up. He can’t help but study Isak’s profile where it’s softly contoured by the moonlight—the soft swoop of his nose and the length of his eyelashes and the pointed curve of his upper lip and the small dip in his chin and the shadow defining his cheekbone.

“So. What’s your deal with Chris Schistad?” he asks carefully, both out of curiosity and as an attempt at starting a conversation to distract himself from getting caught up in the way Isak’s hair curls like liquid gold around his ears.

Isak’s face immediately turns to a scowl.

“I just really hate him,” he just says emphatically.

“You shouldn’t let him get to you. He’s an asshole.”

“I know. He’s stupid.”

Isak nods in rapid motions, but stops quickly with a grimace, slapping a hand to his forehead as if to dampen the pain. It’s strangely cute, the way his nose scrunches up. Even tries to not think about it.

“Told you tequila was a bad idea,” he quips teasingly. Isak isn’t having it.

“You’re a bad idea.”

“Wow. That stung.”

“You sting.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You make no sense.”

“…You’re very pretty.”

“You’re very—hey!”

Even allows himself to laugh then, poking a finger into Isak’s shoulder.

“I almost got you.”

“You’re taking advantage of my drunken state.” Isak gives him a glare that probably would’ve been a lot more intimidating if he weren’t as obviously tired and hazy as he is right now. He looks soft away from all the humidity and loud music and sharp voices in a way that makes Even want to protect him.

“I’m just trying to get you to smile. You don’t do that a lot, did you know?”

He lures out nothing but a lifted eyebrow and a huff from Isak.

“Is that so?” he retorts, all feigned shock and sarcastic tone. “And to think looking approachable is so important to me.”

“I didn’t say you have to look approachable, I just think your smile is very pretty.”

“Being pretty. Another main mission of my life.”

“You’re making it very hard to flirt with you.”

“Maybe it’s just your game that’s weak.”

“Wow. Wow.”

Isak shrugs unapologetically, but Even doesn’t miss the shadow of a smirk playing on his delicate mouth. He wishes Isak would let himself smile more—he looks younger then, more carefree and welcoming. He looks like he should be smiling all the time.

“The stars are out,” Isak says next, peering up at the dark sky above them. “I should be up there.”

The statement is so vague and yet seems so sincere, and it piques Even’s interest in a way he wishes it wouldn’t.

“So you want to be like, an astronaut or something?” he asks, and Isak huffs quietly.

“Don’t think I’m brave enough for that,” he confesses musingly. “But I’d love to go into research.”

“You want to be an astrophysicist?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

Even whistles lowly. An astrophysicist. That’s—Isak’s really fucking smart, then, isn’t he?

“Like, for real?”

“No, just for pretend,” Isak snorts with another eyeroll. Even wonders how many of those he can receive during their acquaintanceship—maybe he should start counting, just for fun. “Yeah, for real. What else?”

“I don’t know. I like to fantasize about being things like astrophysicists too, but I could never actually do it, you know? Or like, one of those people on the National Geographic who swim with white sharks and stuff. I don’t know. Can you not want things even if you know it’s unrealistic sometimes?”

Silence for a moment. Isak just watches him and Even stares back. There’s something unreadable in Isak’s gaze, and Even tries desperately to will away the want to figure it out.

“No, I guess you can. But that’s not what it’s like for me,” Isak says at last, averts his gaze to pick at the grass below him. “I’m going to work with space. I have to.”

The conversation meets its end there, as Isak suddenly turns away to vomit heartily into the grass. Even grimaces at the sound and shakes himself out of the tenderness of the moment. Quickly, he gets on his feet, wipes down his hands on his jeans to get rid of the condensation from the grass and reaches one out to Isak.

“How about I drive you home?” he says. Isak just groans as an answer, but takes his hand and lets himself be pulled away from Chris’ lawn and towards Even’s car without protests or snark.

The car ride is silent. Even gets Isak a pack of gum from the glove compartment, and then puts the radio on to play softly and fill the car with something that’s not tension or the sound of their breathing. Isak is just looking out the window the whole time, craning his neck in a way that must be uncomfortable to keep an eye on the sky above him. It’s oddly—endearing.

“You know, you really aren’t as scary as you make yourself out to be,” Even speaks as they start approaching Isak’s street, to try and distract himself from the growing fondness that’s bundling up in his ribcage.

It’s just an observation, a statement Even can’t let but slip because he still has questions, but Isak instantly turns his head and his gaze is sharp.

“Well, you’re not as badass and mysterious as you make yourself out to be, either.”

It takes Even a second or so to answer, taken aback by how quickly Isak went back to his hostility. “That wasn’t meant to be insulting.”

“It sounded awfully patronizing to me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Even huffs. “Lord forbid anyone finds you tolerable, huh? I’m just curious. I really want to know why you’re so hostile towards people all the time.”

It takes Isak a while to answer, but he does, and when he does his breathing is calmer and his voice is softer.

“Well, most people suck, so. Better weed all the bad ones out before they get a good chance to get in, you know?”

Even ponders this.

“Maybe so,” he allows. “But it must get quite lonely.”

“I’d rather be lonely than around people who make me feel bad.”

“And does ninety-nine percent of Oslo’s population make you feel bad, then?”

Isak purses his lips and shrinks a bit in his seat, a couple of seconds passing before he tells his lap:

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

It’s quiet for a moment as this sinks in, and Even dares glance over to the boy in the passenger seat who’s suddenly looking heart-tremblingly small, playing absent-mindedly with his fingers to avoid meeting Even’s gaze. He’s stopped his car in front of Isak’s driveway by now, but Isak makes no move to leave.

In the end, Even can’t help but ask him.

“Why?”

He kind of expects Isak to just snarl something and have it be over with, or give him an eyeroll, or pretty much anything that’ll help distancing the two, but the boy just bites the inside of his cheek briefly, frowning in concentration to get his answer right.

“People are just—insincere. They’re so insincere. I can’t stand it. And that probably makes me sound like the biggest edgelord you’ve ever met, but I—they just don’t like me. They don’t like my sense of humour, they don’t like to talk about things I like to talk about, and they don’t like me. I can see it on their faces and hear it in their voices every time they excuse themselves from a conversation as early as they can, or grimace unwillingly before they address me, and all they ever do is make me feel bad. I don’t like them.”

With every new word, Isak seems to disappear further into the car seat, appearing smaller and smaller and it makes Even feel uneasy and kind of up for taking him into his arms. Hug him. Isak looks like he needs a hug. It doesn’t sound like he gets a lot of them.

But the way they’re sitting is offering only very difficult angles for a hug, and if a hug is going to help at all it has to be a good one, a comfortable one. Not one where they’re both leaning awkwardly over the gear shift and straining their backs to make them fit against each other right.

So instead, Even just keeps watching Isak for a while, quietly and pensively, and at last he says lowly;

“Yeah, no, alright. People suck.”

Isak just makes an emphasizing noise, like a “that’s what I’m telling you,” and Even feels a small smile coming on as he turns back to watch the quiet road before them.

“For what it’s worth, though, I like you a lot.”

It’s not even a lie at this point—it took one night, really, for Even to become weirdly attached to this boy—growing a protective streak, even, because when he thinks of how people around them treat Isak now he has to make a physical effort not to clench his jaw until it hurts.

“For what it’s worth,” Isak repeats back to him softly, and the level of gentleness in his tone takes Even aback and his gaze whips right back to the boy. He’s already looking back, biting the inside of his cheek loosely and his eyes a gloomy meadow kind of green in the faint light from the moon. “You don’t make me feel bad.”

And then—then Isak leans in, and Even doesn’t breathe.

And it’s torture because he’s so close, and his eyelashes are so long and his cheeks are so red from here and it would be so easy for Even to close the small gap between their lips and give in—except Even can still smell the liquor through the haze of mint from Isak’s breath on his lips and fuck, this can’t happen now. Not when Isak’s drunk and sleepy. Not when he’s drunk and sleepy and vulnerable.

So instead of leaning into him, Even gently puts his hands on Isak’s shoulders and pushes him back again. Isak’s eyes fly open immediately, frowning deeply when he realizes what’s happening.

“We shouldn’t do this now,” is all Even says quietly.

He can see the emotions shift on Isak’s face—confusion, to incredulity, to shame, to fury. His upper lip curls and then he’s fumbling with unbuckling his seatbelt as soon as he can, flinging Even’s car door open and slamming it shut pointedly after him, storming off into his house.

Even watches him go. His lungs feel like they’re in the pit of his stomach.

Shit.

Chapter Text

It’s been a week since the party. Even’s tried to contact Isak, tried to catch him at school, tried to text him—he got his number from Vilde but so far every message he’s sent has gone dreadfully unanswered. The boy is clearly avoiding him.  

Even doesn’t want to be as emotionally affected by that as he is—ideally, this would only be a bit frustrating on his part as it’s making his mission harder. But an overweighing majority of him is genuinely beating himself up over the fact that they finally seemed to get somewhere, that he finally got to see a soft, human side of Isak, one he really liked, just for it all to wash down the drain in a matter of seconds.

He met up with Sana yesterday to try and make sense of what to do. It was his initiative, that appointment—maybe it would’ve made more sense to go to Eva, or Vilde, even, since she’s the one this whole circus boils down to, but Even doesn’t quite know them yet. Instead, his thumb had hovered hesitantly over Sana’s contact name still in his phone, weighing pros and cons before ultimately deciding that this is Sana—she’s smart, and a good listener, and he trusts her.

“So,” he said as soon as the girl sat down next to him at the table. “Have you heard anything about Isak?”

“Uh, yeah. Eva spoke to Vilde about it.” Sana put her backpack down, dragging out the words as if she’s stalling. That’s surely not the best sign.

“And?” Even urged.

“’Hates you with the fire of a thousand suns’ was the used phrase, I think.”

Even dropped his head to groan into his arms.

“What did I do?” he asked, exasperation tangible and Sana petted him lightly on his head.

“There, there,” she sighed. “Walk me through the events of last Friday and we’ll figure this out.”

Even values Sana so much. He made sure to tell her so, and then started a quite detailed retelling of everything—from picking him and Vilde up, to arriving at the party and calming Isak down, to their run-in with Chris and Isak vanishing to get drunk as a result, to taking him away for some water and fresh air, to their hushed conversations on Chris’ lawn and in the car, to Isak leaning in for a kiss and Even rejecting him as gently as he could.

Sana just listened intently to the whole thing, not uttering a word until he was finished.

“Oh, Even,” she said then, and she smacked her lips and shook her head. “The boy’s just embarrassed.”

Even blinked, perplexed. “What?”

“You heard me. Look, Isak’s not really the type to initiate something like a kiss, is he? Or get drunk, or share his feelings at all. It was a vulnerable moment for him, and you turned him down. He’s embarrassed.”

“Wh—” Even sputtered, “but it’s not like I had a choice! He was drunk, Sana. It would’ve been taking advantage of him. He probably would’ve been just as furious the day after, and I would be a bad person.”

As if he’s not one already. As if he’s not already playing a very dangerous game practically toying with Isak’s feelings for money.

“I’m not disagreeing with that. I’m just explaining to you why he’s angry. Do something nice for him, something that shows you care. Prove to him that you’re not just disregarding his trust in you. You’re a romantic guy. If anyone can figure that out it’s you.”

Her voice got something soft in it for a moment there, and when Even looked her in the eyes, she even offered him a small smile—barely noticeable, but there, nevertheless. He reciprocated it on a sigh, resting his chin in his palm.

“I don’t know, Sana. I’m already feeling bad about this whole thing as it is. Maybe it’s just—maybe it’s just better to leave him alone.”

“No!” Her voice was so sharp Even almost flinched. “You can’t just give up.”

“But I’m—I don’t want to play him, Sana. He’s a good person.”

“You’re not playing him if your feelings are sincere.”

“But are they?”

“Aren’t they?”

The question shut Even up quite well. Aren’t they? Hadn’t there been the sudden protectiveness and endearment as he studied Isak’s face bask in moonlight? Hadn’t he wanted to reach out and touch?

He couldn’t say he hadn’t—but regardless, accepting money for it is shitty. It’s really fucking shitty of him.

“Look,” Sana sighed when she didn’t seem to get an answer. “I’m not just doing this for Eva. Isak is a frigid bitch at least ninety-five percent of the time, but he’s been a tad more bearable the last couple of weeks, and I have strong suspicions that’s on you. And you—well, you could use someone around you who you can’t convince yourself is only there out of pity, because we both know Isak isn’t the type to spare people’s feelings if he doesn’t want them around. And you must at least somewhat enjoy his company. Otherwise you wouldn’t be trying this hard.”

God, Sana. Insightful Sana. Even couldn’t even protest.

“Well. Key word here is ‘trying’,” he said weakly, because that’s all he had left. “I’ve tried to talk to him. He just won’t even acknowledge that I exist.”

“Well, make him! You’ve done it before.” Sana gave him a final disapproving stare, snapped her fingers in front of his face, and then she promptly collected her bag, stood up from her chair, and walked away. Even was left in the aftermath with a perplexed frown on his face.

So, that’s where he’s at currently.

He’s walking home from school, trying to come up with some sort of masterplan. He doesn’t want to pressure Isak, because if he does, he fears the boy will only distance himself further. He needs to be careful, respectful; he needs to leave Isak room to make a choice.

That’s when he sees him. Even stops dead in his tracks.

It must be fate, it must be, because he hasn’t seen Isak in a week, but now he’s standing in front of the window of what looks to be a photography and camera store, just completely still and intently watching whatever’s behind the glass.

Even realizes that this might just be his one chance, and he picks up the pace enthusiastically, afraid that if he beats around the bush, Isak will have time to leave.

Isak doesn’t notice Even walking up to him until he verbally makes his presence known.

“What’s got you so interested?” he asks lightly, and the way Isak immediately jumps a little makes it clear he wasn’t expecting any company. When the boy turns his head and realizes who’s standing next to him, his wide-eyed expression morphs into a sour one.

Even tries to not let it be disheartening.

“Are you stalking me?” he demands hotly.

“No! I live just a block away. I’m on my way home.”

Isak’s mouth purses in frustration, but he seems to buy it, because he lets his gaze wander back to the shop window. Even does the same, and he realizes that what Isak’s so entranced by is a telescope. Even knows nothing about these things, but he’s guessing it’s an expensive one—and it makes sense Isak’s interested, given their last conversation.

“It’s none of your business,” Isak answers at last, and the fire in his voice is gone now, instead thickly layered in feigned—Even hopes—indifference.

“It’s a nice telescope,” Even figures out loud, mostly just to keep a conversation up. “Are you looking to switch up or would it be your first one?”

It takes Isak a beat to reply.

“My first,” he allows at last. “A Celestron SkyProdigy 130. It’s beautiful and it’s perfect and it’s 8000 kronor, so who knows if I’ll ever have the money for it.”

Even grimaces. ”Are there no cheaper models?”

”Sure, but you get what you pay for, and I just—if I’m getting a telescope I want it to be the one. I don’t need some beginner’s thing with limited functions that I’ll have to exchange for a better one in a year anyway, like, I know I want to do this and I want a good one.”

He snaps his mouth shut then, like he realized he’s doing something he shouldn’t, and swallows visibly before rolling his shoulders back and clearing his throat.

“Like I said, none of your business anyway.”

“Why is it not my business?”

“Because we’re not friends.”

Ouch. “I think we are.”

“Well, this might be news to you, but usually for a friendship to be a friendship, it has to be considered so by both parties.”

“Isak, look,” Even tries one last time, voice lowered and careful. “If this is about what happened in the car—”

“Jesus Christ!” Isak interrupts, throwing his arms up lividly. “Shut the fuck up, Even! How much clearer do I have to be? I don’t want to talk to you!”

And with that, he storms off with forceful steps. He doesn’t look back once, but Even can’t take his eyes off him the whole time.

Alright. So trying to talk about it is a dead end, that much he has to accept. He needs to approach this differently, in a way where Isak gets to have the upper hand, where they can meet halfway. He needs to do it Isak’s way.

As Even starts walking home, he pulls up his phone, enters App Store, and searches for night sky calendars.

~

Vilde feels like a fool for many reasons.

She feels like a fool because she’s spent two solid years obsessing over William Magnusson, just to find out that he’s, well, kind of boring. She feels like a fool because she couldn’t bring herself to have a genuinely good time with the coolest guys in school. She feels like a fool because she couldn’t even focus on William’s good looks and at least make out with him a little. It’s what she’s wanted, isn’t it? It’s what she’s looked forward to, worked towards since she first enrolled at Hartvig Nissens VGS.

She feels like a fool because she’s whined and cried and yelled for her dad and Isak to just let her have one normal teen experience, and when she was presented with it, she went and hid in Chris Schistad’s kitchen.

She also feels like a fool because then there’s Eva, with her soft eyes and soft hair and soft voice, and she’s kind and interesting and she walked Vilde home even if she didn’t have to, and she’s comfortable to be around. And she can’t help comparing how good it felt to walk in silence next to Eva to how stilted it felt to converse with William. How brushing her hand against Eva’s tingled up her entire arm, and William lining their sides up on the couch made her run away. The thing is, if she starts thinking deeper, starts thinking about what exactly that could mean—well, it makes her ears go hot and her chest to tighten nervously, so she tries to keep it light.

So what if Vilde would prove to be a little bi-curious? Eva’s bisexual. She’s bisexual and totally fine with it. Drops it into a conversation like she’s commenting on the weather. So how can it be wrong for Vilde to want to experiment a little? Isn’t that also a teen experience?

It doesn’t have to mean she must commit to something. It doesn’t have to mean anything, really, to be curious. Vilde’s sure everyone is, at some point.

She would like nothing more than for her slight crisis to end there—but it lingers in her mind for days, wiggles its way into everything she does and sees and feels until it’s impossible to ignore. It turns into a thing where she starts compulsively test herself with every stranger walking past her. Is that woman attractive? Would Vilde want to kiss her? Would she want to touch her? What would it feel like to touch her? Would she like it, to run hands along her hips and grip them? Is that man hot? Would she like him on top of her, closing in on her body? Would she like that bit of stubble he has against her chin?

As soon as her mind wanders that far, her skin starts to itch with discomfort, self-disgust washing over her without fail every time. She doesn’t want to be thinking these things, so what the hell is wrong with her? It’s ridiculously intrusive and gross. Who the hell just sees a person walking down the street and completely unprovoked starts thinking about having sex with them? That must count as harassment on some level. Vilde cannot live like this—she needs to put her mind to peace, quickly.

She decides to look for answers in the only person she can think of.

Isak is in the living room, eyes flicking between the Friends episode on the TV and his biology course book, when Vilde carefully makes her way into the room to join him. He doesn’t even give her a little glance of acknowledgment when she sits down next to him, but Vilde doesn’t expect him to. It’s nice this way, actually—she can take her time finding a way to form what it is she wants to ask.

“Isak?” she starts at last, trying her hardest to sound casual. She receives an absent-minded mhm? back, and looks down on her hands. “How did you know you were, um. Gay?”

That catches Isak’s attention, as he looks away from the TV with a confounded wrinkle between his eyes.

“Um,” he ponders. “I just kind of always had a feeling? Like, I tried to feel excited about girls and stuff, but it always felt wrong and uncomfortable. And then there was the whole Leo DiCaprio thing.” He rolls his eyes self-depreciatingly. “I just told myself I was picky. It’s not like I’m obsessed with finding a relationship, anyway, so it worked.”

“Right. But you figured it out, still?”

Isak shrugs. “Something will come along sooner or later, I guess, that makes it inevitable. Something, someone, whatever.”

Vilde barely breathes. “And what was that for you?”

“I—” Isak stops himself, pursing his lips tightly, and looks back to the TV to avoid her curious gaze. “That doesn’t matter. Point is, I noticed eventually how fabricated my attraction to girls was. And how right it felt to be with a boy in comparison.”

”Okay, but like—how did you know it was fabricated? Like, how do you tell what’s real and not?”

”Um—I guess I just did.” A small frown is forming on Isak’s face. ”All my crushes on girls went away as soon as I got too close. But with guys I just—I wanted to be close to them. It didn’t feel like a chore.”

”So you were never unsure? You never looked at girls and were like, trying to imagine liking it?” 

”I—no, I did, but—why do you ask?”

”What does it feel like to like a boy? Like really, really like a boy?”

”Vilde, where is this coming from?”

Isak’s voice has a twinge to it that sounds dangerously close to worried, and Vilde clamps her mouth shut immediately. She said too much, didn’t she? She absolutely did. Fuck, she really did and now Isak’s looking at her in this carefully observant way, empathetic, even, and Vilde isn’t ready for this.

”Vilde,” Isak says again, uncharacteristically gently. ”Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No!”

It’s too loud. Too loud and quick of a protest, and it doesn’t help erase the look in Isak’s eyes at all. God, could she not just have left it? Could she not have googled these things like a normal fucking person instead of asking her step-brother questions that no doubt would make him suspect that something’s up? She’s not even sure she likes girls at all. It could just be a big girl crush, this thing she feels for Eva, and what then?

”I’m just curious,” she tries next, and it’s way to high-pitched to sound nonchalant. “Or, like. It’s for a friend. I want to help her.”

Nicely handled, Vilde. Smooth. Blasé. Suave.

Isak observes her for a beat, and Vilde’s extremely interested in her own hands.

”I did try to like girls,” Isak says at last. ”I found them pretty sometimes, but I only liked them in theory. I never wanted to, like, kiss them. Or anything like that at all. Whereas, when I was with a boy…”

He stops himself for a beat, and the amount of thought he seems to put into this startles Vilde.  

”When I was with a boy, I just wanted it. I didn’t have to overthink whether I liked anything, because I knew I did. I don’t know. That’s not to say you can’t know before trying it, I was pretty certain before, too. When it comes down to it, I had to talk myself into crushing on girls. And with boys it just happened. I just felt it.”

He quietens with a shrug, glancing at Vilde who just sits, eyes still on her fidgeting hands. Her heart is beating so loudly she thinks Isak must sense it as his words sink into the silence between them.

“Thanks,” she says, and curses the way her voice wobbles just the tiniest bit. “I’ll, um, tell my friend that. She’ll appreciate it.”

Isak shrugs, and Vilde thinks she can detect the ghost of a smile on his face when he turns back to the TV. “Glad I could help.”

“Hold on, so you’ve actually been with a boy, though? Like, been been?”

She doesn’t mean for the remark to sound surprised, but—well, she kind of is. When she thinks about it, she wouldn’t guess Isak had ever touched anyone in a more loving manner than like, a high five. A high five might even be a little too hip for him. A clap on the shoulder, maybe. And here he is, just having talked about it like it’d been a natural part of his self-discovery.

Isak’s head slowly turns back to face her again, looking her straight in the eye defiantly.

“That,” he says, “is none of your business.”

And he gives her a grin, and Vilde feels her own mouth stretch to reciprocate it. This one of the more human moments she’s ever had with Isak, and she kind of likes it. She’s a bit taken aback he’s willing to share this much with her all of a sudden—he’s usually not all that keen on showing himself as a person capable of feeling human emotions, but then again, it strikes Vilde that she never really asks.

Maybe she should ask more.

~

She watches Magic Mike XL.

Vilde doesn’t know a lot about the movie except that it’s full of half-naked, ripped men, and that logically, it should awaken something within her.

Channing Tatum is supposed to be hot, right? He could be hot. His body is textbook hot. Does Vilde find him hot? She looks at his abs clench, and his broad back, and his tight shorts. Is she feeling anything? She thinks she’s sort of blushing. Is that a sign? Or is she just uncomfortable?

Maybe nothing’s happening because she’s overthinking it. Maybe Channing Tatum just isn’t her type. Frustrated, she pauses the movie halfway through, and opens a new tab. The cursor blinks encouragingly in the search bar, and Vilde watches it defiantly. Her fingers hover over the laptop keyboard as she tries to figure out what to do.

Lesbian, she types in eloquently. It shows her the Wikipedia page, the Urban Dictionary, a couple of PinkNews articles, as well as a couple of porn sites. She frowns, scrolling past them—somehow it feels too much to go there.

How do you know you’re a lesbian? she googles next. It gives her results a bit closer to what she’s looking for—lots of quizzes, and articles. She ends up on Wikihow, which has listed 14 ways to help her determine her sexuality. The first step is to evaluate why she’s questioning her sexuality—if it’s because others think she’s gay or because of personal growth. It tells her to self-reflect on her feelings, to keep a personal diary of some kind.

Vilde supposes she could do that. She likes bullet journals as much as the next person. Maybe it’ll feel less intimidating if she can write it down in pink calligraphy.

The second step says to identify her sexual preferences. Does she check out women? Does she notice their smile, features, quirks? Does her heart race when she sees an attractive woman? Is she sexually aroused by women?

“That’s kind of what I’m trying to figure out,” she mumbles to herself, exasperation rising with every question.

In the end she marks the website for later and shuts her laptop resolutely, lying down on her bed with a long sigh. Her body is too fidgety to do this now, her mind races too much. She can’t concentrate, and so she better save the research for another time. She’ll go and look for pretty notebooks tomorrow and take it from there.

There’s one specific word Isak used that she keeps thinking about. Fabricated. His attraction to girls was fabricated. His feelings for boys just happened.

Her mind wanders back to Eva. She’d wanted to hold her hand, that serene walk home from Chris’ place. It had been a small nudging feeling, soft enough to ignore, but a few times she’d looked down between their hands and wishes she could close in on the spaces between Eva’s fingers. She looked like she had soft hands, Eva. Warm, probably, too.

Vilde hadn’t reached out, but she’d wanted to.

She doesn’t sleep a lot that night.

~

It’s a Saturday, which means it’s another night of Isak lying around in his room watching documentaries on space. His friends did talk about going out tonight, but it’s at William’s which means every single person he particularly can’t stand will be there, and Vilde surprisingly hasn’t been on him about going, so he’s going to enjoy it while it lasts. Jonas had offered to come over for a bit, and he’s kind of considering taking him up on that offer—it’s been a while since they hung out only the two of them.

Morgan Freeman is calmly discussing the possibilities and hardships of potentially creating portals to other places based on theories within quantum physics, when there’s a sudden knock against Isak’s window. Isak’s head snaps up to see what caused the sound—his room is on the second floor, so what could it possibly be?—but when he looks at his window, nothing is there. He frowns and is just about to turn back to his film when the sound comes again.

He scoots the laptop off of him and gets up to look outside—and when he does, he almost jumps in surprise.

It’s Even.

Isak can feel his entire face go bitter as a heat spreads from his neck and across his cheeks. He can still barely look at him, too embarrassed about how stupid he must’ve looked last Friday, too bitter about how Even seemed so alright and so sympathetic just to humiliate him, too angry at himself for letting his guard down and being bold and taking a chance this one time just to get himself rejected.

Even’s either completely worthless at reading facial expressions, or he doesn’t care—Isak’s guessing the latter—because all he does is send Isak a giant grin.

“Good evening!” he greets him.

Isak’s eyes narrow. “I’m going to call the police.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Do you want to try me?”

“Do you not know a romantic gesture when you see one, or do you just not know how to appreciate it?”

“What makes you think I’d want a romantic gesture from you?”

“Funny you should ask,” Even calls back to him, sounding awfully sure of himself. “It’s because my romantic gesture involves stargazing.”

For a solid moment, Isak is at loss for words. He just stares at Even, with his stupid jean jacket and his stupid smile and his stupid hair tucked under a stupid, soft beanie, and tries to find an appropriate response to cover up how his stomach is slowly starting to flutter treacherously.

“I’m not going stargazing with you.”

Even clicks his tongue disapprovingly and shakes his head.

“I haven’t even presented my thesis properly yet,” he says, and he raises his arm to move Isak’s attention to the basket that’s resting on it. “Look. I brought a picnic basket. I made us sandwiches—I didn’t know what you like on a sandwich, so I made ones with cheese and turkey and with avocado and ham—you’re not a vegetarian, are you? Or vegan? Please don’t be a vegan, I baked the bread myself with love and lots of dairy products and it would break my heart to throw them away.”

“I’m not vegan,” Isak deadpans.

Even grins. “Perfect. I also brought some hot chocolate, and some grapes, and I had a pair of binoculars lying around—they’re probably shit, they haven’t been used for ages but they’re better than nothing. Oh, and I have blankets! Because it tends to get pretty cold now that we’re verging on September, and your comfort means a lot to me.”

This isn’t happening. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen to people.

“I.” Isak has a million thoughts, but he can’t figure out a single thing to say.

“You,” Even confirms. “You and I. I was thinking you could choose the location? I have the car, so. Wherever you want to go to see the stars, we’ll go.”

“Mauna Kea, Hawaii?” Isak raises an eyebrow, and it’s meant to come out harsh and cold but his tone is more challenging than anything, and he just about stops himself from kicking himself in the shin.

“Wherever you want to go that’s within 50 kilometers of Oslo, we’ll go.” Even pauses. “Not that I wouldn’t take you to Hawaii if I could. It’s only the lack of Norway—America highways that stops me and it’s important you know that.”

A traitorous giggle escapes Isak, and when Even hears it his entire face lights up so much Isak could go blind from it. He shakes himself out of it, forcing himself to straighten his back and school his mouth into a straight line again. He’s upset with Even. He’s embarrassed, and betrayed, and he hates him.

“And why would I want to go stargazing with you?”

“Well, you see, from what I’ve gathered, Neptune is in opposition tonight. Now, I only have a vague understanding of what that means, but I’m figuring you know all about it. And I thought, since the sky is so clear and all, and I come with food and blankets, and a car, and these shitty binoculars, you simply cannot pass up such a splendid offer, can you?”

Well. Well.

Isak’s just—he’s sure he could argue with that logic if his mind would just turn down the flustered haze it’s making of itself. Neptune is too far away, he could point out. It’s a dull planet—invisible, even—without a good telescope. It’s practically pointless to look for.

But the case happens to be that his mind is hazy, and he does love looking at the stars, and what matters more to him in this moment is that Even’s taken time to do some research for this—for him—and so, he doesn’t argue. Instead he stares a little while longer, Even not letting him go with his own eyes for even a second as he waits patiently for a reaction. It’s no use trying to process this, Isak realizes. Rationality seems to have left him to the point where Even’s proposition makes perfect sense.

“Right,” he nods, more to himself, and then he closes the window shut. He bolts out of his room, down the stairs, throws on a jacket on the way out the door, and then rounds the house to see the strange boy up close. He still seems to be real and not a figment of Isak’s imagination, especially with the way his eyes light up brighter than the streetlights when he notices Isak’s presence. Isak’s sure not even his mind could make up the amount of liveliness in them.

“Get in your stupid car, then,” he utters, and swiftly turns without waiting for a reply or reaction.

Even follows without a word, but Isak can sense him grinning.

The car ride is silent. Even puts on a playlist to fill the quite loaded air in the car, and Isak chooses to concentrate on the lights flashing by his window and Frank Ocean seeing both sides like Chanel rather than making things easy for Even and strike up conversation. Even doesn’t really seem to mind, though—he doesn’t talk, either, just hums along gently to the tunes and keeps his eyes on the road.

It takes about half an hour to drive to Isak’s desired location, and the road progressively turns smaller and gravellier, but Even doesn’t complain about it once. When Isak finally tells him to turn and pull in, he does, parking the car in a small patch of grass. He turns the engine off and shoots Isak a curious gaze.

“So,” he says. “Just this field?”

Isak smirks, nods, and steps out of the car. In front of them, a dark, quiet meadow stretches out. In June and July, blue and purple lupins fill up the whole space here, making it look like a vibrant painting, or an ocean of some sort—but they’ve bloomed out by now. In the other end of the meadow, pine trees stand tall and graceful and alluring, their swooping branches like doors into the forest spreading out beyond them.

Isak starts crossing the grass with no further explanations, simply counting on Even to take the hint. He does.

“The grass is pretty high,” Even remarks as he follows suit.

“Solid observation.”

“I just mean snakes usually keep to high grass like this.”

“Just stomp when you walk and it’ll warn them off.”

“Is that actually accurate, though? Like, is it proven that it actually helps?”

“I’m going to be a scientist, aren’t I? I’d never feed you wrongful information.” 

Even just mutters something about there being plenty of scientists who’s had wrongful information through the ages as he trudges on behind Isak, and Isak allows himself to grin, just because it feels good.

They stop at a big rock located right where the meadow stops and the forest begins. Isak tells Even to put down one blanket on it, so they can sit more comfortably, and Even obliges. They both climb up after that, and Isak finally leans back and looks up above him. The stars glisten in a way they never do in the city of Oslo, moonshine washing over him like a soothing tide.

There are no cars or people or lights around at all now. Just forest and fields and a prickled, diamond sky, and Isak feels at home.

Letting his chest rise and fall with the chill air of a summer taking its last breath, he turns his head to observe Even for a second. He’s already looking back at him, something intangible in his eyes, and he doesn’t look away even when Isak catches him staring.

They really are so kind, those eyes, aren’t they? Pools of liquid blue, of tranquillity, of gentleness. It’s hard not to forget that Isak’s supposed to be suspicious of his motives. Especially out here, where the moon paints everything so much softer than it usually is.

None of them breaks the eye contact for a solid couple of seconds—it should be weird, should make Isak’s ears go hot and his body uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. It feels open and secure. It feels sincere, to be allowed to inspect Even like this.

Isak did always like the sincere.

“So. Where’s Neptune?” Even asks after a while, ending the moment and peering up at the sky.

Isak hums a little. “Oh, we probably won’t see it. It’s so far away you need very good binoculars at the very least to spot it even in opposition.”

“What?”

The horror in Even’s voice is only about 20 percent feigned, and when Isak meets his wide gaze he must hold back a smirk.

“Yeah,” he purses his mouth to the side nonchalantly. “I could try to map it out for us but I doubt we’re going to see anything.”

“Isak. Isak.”

“What?” he repeats again, and he can’t quite hold back a grin anymore.

“You didn’t think to tell me before we drove out here that the main reason I’m taking you out isn’t going to be visible?”

Isak gives him a one-shouldered shrug, and Even gasps, elbowing him lightly in the side.

“You absolute shit.”

“It’s fine! I seriously don’t mind. I’ve missed being out here, you wouldn’t have had to bribe me with Neptune.”

“No?” God. Even’s voice is so stupidly hopeful. He’s stupid. Even is so stupid.

Isak shakes his head in small, small motions. “No. But it’s nice that you took the time to look into it, anyway.”

He dares shoot Even a small smile, and the corners of Even’s own plush lips quirk up, too, in the gentlest manner. They’re bitten red, still so full and velvet-like even when they’re threatening to widen in a smile, and Isak can’t help but wonder if they taste as much as raspberries as they look.

Shit. That’s not how this is supposed to go. Isak’s here to see the stars. He’s here to see the stars, goddammit, and see the stars he will. No level of softness grazing Even’s beautifully shaped mouth is going to distract him.

“Right!” he says, a tad too loudly, clapping his hands together resolutely. “To try and find Neptune we’d have to find the Aquarius constellation. Are you familiar with it?”

Even blinks, seemingly also having been quite caught up in his own head. “Um. I am an Aquarius.”

“Good for you,” Isak rolls his eyes. “It’s the biggest star constellation out of the Zodiac, actually, but the whole thing is only visible to us in the north for a month or so. Anyway, Neptune travels through that constellation.”

“Cool. What star sign are you, though?”

Isak blinks once, slowly. “You do know astrology and astronomy really aren’t the same thing, right?”

“Says who?”

“Says science.”

“Well, that’s awfully cynical of you, Isak. You sound like a Capricorn.”

“I’m a Gemini.”

“That’s even worse!”

“Oh, come on. Do you actually believe in that stuff?”

Even’s grin turns smaller and more contemplative, and he shrugs.

“Nah. I think I’m just drawn to all sorts of things that can tell me what kind of person I am.”

Isak frowns musingly. “Isn’t it better to find that kind of stuff out yourself?”

“Not if I’m not sure enough about it to decide on my own.”

“You don’t have to decide anything. You can just be.”

Even stays quiet at that, only offering another weak shrug.

Isak takes the moment of silence to haul his phone out of his pocket and open his compass, locating south. They have to turn a bit for it, and as a result they have to sit so close their bodies are pretty much pressed flush from the shoulder and down. Isak ignores how his body yearns to lean in even closer, maybe press his nose into Even’s shoulder or sneak under his arm—he’s keeping some dignity here. Even if he wants Even’s warmth so close his skin burns with it.

He isn’t supposed to be this easily affected by another person, especially not so soon. It was one thing when he was drunk, but he’s more sober than ever in this moment and it’s changing nothing about the way he wants to trace Even’s jawline with his fingers. He isn’t supposed to feel these things.

“Okay, anyway. The Aquarius is right—” Isak leans closer so he can point it out more accurately for Even and he just barely keeps his breath from hitching when their cheeks brush. Ridiculous. He’s ridiculous. “Right there. See? The little Y-form there’s the Aquarius’ bucket.”

Even follows his finger, peering up at the little cluster of stars with a contemplative expression.

“I think it’s really cool how people looked at these little dots once upon a time and had imagination enough to create images out of them,” he supplies. “It’s like cloud watching, except you can map these ones out and find them again. Like, it’s just nice to know that even hundreds of years ago, humans looked up at the sky and tried to find pieces of themselves in it.”

It’s kind of a lovely observation, that—Isak thinks maybe what has Even saying this kind of thing is what makes Isak’s subconscious so eager to open up to him. The way he watches things around him and treats them like they’re all extraordinary, like they’re art, like life is poetic—it’s something Isak’s not familiar with, but something he kind of wishes he could do, sometimes, if he weren’t so jaded. 

Especially since looking up at the sky trying to find pieces of himself is something Isak tends to do a lot.

“So. Neptune?” Even asks hopefully, and Isak has to laugh a little.

“No Neptune,” he affirms. “I’m sorry.”

“Not even with the binoculars?”

Isak already knows it’s a fairly lost cause, but he humors Even by picking up his dusty binoculars and directs them towards the sky. It helps a little, actually, they’re not as bad as Even made them out to be, but Neptune is nowhere to be seen.

“Not even with the binoculars.”

Even curses lowly, and bends to reach into his picnic basket.

“I need consolation food. Do you want turkey or ham?”

Isak asks for ham, and receives a bread bun neatly folded into a layer of tin wrap. Even also fishes out the container of grapes, as well as the thermos with hot chocolate, and pours up a mug for Isak. It’s all so terribly casual and sweet that Isak has to purse his mouth not to grin like a lunatic into his beverage.

“You never told me what it is you want to do,” he starts lightly, trying his best to come off as nonchalant—or at least not as eager to know more about Even as he genuinely is.

“Hm?” Even lets out around his sandwich.

“Like, you said you imagine being an astrophysicist or a wildlife photographer sometimes, but you never said what you actually dream of doing. I don’t even know what you study.”

“Oh. I’m doing social studies at Nissen, but at Bakka I did media production. I want to, um, I want to make movies.”

Isak wouldn’t have guessed it, but when Even says it out loud, it makes perfect sense.

“Like a director? Or a screen writer?”

“Director. But I like writing. Maybe I could be one of those talents who do both.”

“Yeah,” Isak hums. “I could see that. You have the dramatics for it.”

It tugs a laugh out of Even, deep and genuine, and satisfaction swells Isak’s ribcage twice its size.

“Thank you,” he grins. “I knew my grand gestures would get me somewhere one day.”

“Mhm. You’ll be the next Baz Luhrmann or some shit.”

He doesn’t get an answer right away, and Isak curiously turns away from the sky to Even, to find the boy looking at him strangely intensely all of a sudden. Isak raises his eyebrows bemusedly.

“What?”

“You know Baz Luhrmann?”

Isak shrugs. “Not well, just—I might be more than a bit familiar with Leonardo DiCaprio’s filmography nineties to early 2000’s.”

Another laugh. Even’s eyes twinkle so brightly that for once in his life, Isak almost forgets the stars.

(Too soon. It’s too soon.)

“I guess that’s valid. But I don’t think you realize just how hot it is that you just casually drop my favorite director into conversation.”

The fact that Even is referring to anything Isak does as hot is something Isak can’t dwell too much on or he’ll pass out on the spot. He decides on another route. “He’s genuinely your favorite? Oh my god. That’s just something I said to make fun of you.”

“He creates epic love stories, Isak! He gets it! You cannot tell me Romeo + Juliet didn’t change your life.”

“Leo through that aquarium glass changed my life. The storyline doesn’t have a whole lot to do with that.”

“You didn’t cry? Not even a little bit?”

“Never. But I always turn it off before the ending, so.”

At that, Even genuinely clutches his heart like Isak’s shot him.

“What?” he wheezes. “What?”

“I already know how the story goes and I don’t want to see them die because of miscommunication and bad timing! It pisses me off!”

“But the ending is the best part! It ties it all together, Isak, it’s what makes you feel—you can’t just skip it.”

“I can, I have, and I will continue to.”

Even just shakes his head.

“I changed my mind. Nothing about this is hot and I think I have to go home.”

He doesn’t move even an inch. Isak just rolls his eyes.

“These are the dramatics I’m talking about.”

A toothy grin is all Even responds with. Isak can’t help but mimic it weakly, and he redirects his gaze to the stars again to hide the fact that his face flushes. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, sipping their hot chocolate and trying not to flinch when their fingers brush as they both reach into the container of grapes. Isak carefully lets himself observe Even as the older boy keeps observing the sky with a thoughtful expression. His jaw clenches and unclenches when he chews the grapes and it’s only a little bit mesmerizing.

“It’s quite trippy, this,” he hums eventually, turning his gaze to look at Isak. Isak’s quick to look away, not wanting Even to catch him already gawking back.

“Trippy how?”

“It’s just—do you not ever feel lonely, staring at it for too long? It’s so big.”

I feel lonely most of the time already, Isak doesn’t answer. I don’t feel lonely right now, he doesn’t answer either.

“No, I like that,” he says instead. “It puts things in perspective, to think about how vast it all is in comparison to us. Have you ever heard about the multi-verse theory?”

Even’s blank look is answer enough. He raises an indulging eyebrow.

Don’t ramble, Isak. Don’t ramble. Don’t ramble.

“Well,” he ponders. “Basically, if space is infinitely big, and time in space is infinite, assuming that time is just this one linear thing wouldn’t fit. Which is why time would also be parallel, times infinity. And how this concept of parallel time works differs depending on what field of physics you look at, but I’d like to think that whenever a new diversion in events occurs, of any size and for any person, another universe is created. That way, there’s a daughter universe for every choice you never made. And it’s interesting to think about, like, what my life could be looking like in the universe where my mom chose to move back to Stavanger when I was born, or the one where I chose Foss instead of Nissen, or like, the one where I had cereal for breakfast today instead of just coffee.”

He’s rambling. He’s absolutely rambling, and he’s just about to cut himself off an apologize, when Even does the interrupting for him.

“So there’s a universe where you say yes the first time I ask you out instead of tearing my self-esteem to shreds?”

His eyes glow with mirth, and Isak dignifies him with a slap on his forearm. Even has to stop making him blush before he loses all his pride.

“Yeah,” he allows at last. “Infinite ones. But before you get too ahead of yourself there’s also infinite ones where I leave you there. So.”

“Rough.”

“It is what it is.”

Even begrudges this for a moment, and Isak’s kind of moved he seems to really have listened and taken in what he’s saying. Most people he knows just kind of shut it out, chuckle a little when he gets into these things, disregard it. Quip about how not everyone can be a genius, Isak, you’re making us normal people feel bad here, could you take that in Norwegian?

Which, Isak supposes they mean it to be complimentary on some level, but it mostly just makes him feel alone. Even, though, Even’s kind of listened from the start, as soon as Isak allowed him to hear.

“I’m not sure I’m a fan of that theory, though,” Even says when he’s done mulling it over.  

Isak’s eyes narrow curiously. “Why not?”

“The universe is literally infinite already. It’s so big our minds are uncapable of comprehending it. And now you want to argue that there might be infinite amounts of them as well?” Even shakes his head. “No. That’s too much infinity. It freaks me out.”

“But that’s the point! We’re so small. It’s like—sometimes things feel so big, and so overwhelming, and like they matter so much it hurts, and then… It’s calming. To know how small you are, how insignificant in the grand scheme of things everything is. And that somewhere, in time, things are okay.”

It’s what Isak’s told himself since the world really, truly hurt him for the first time. When he was twelve years old and his mom cried on the porch and his dad drove away and didn’t come back, he’d shut himself in his bedroom and closed his eyes and thought, the Earth still spins. The Earth spins, and time ticks on, and Isak’s dad left in this infinity so he could stay in a million other ones.

And when his mom met Andreas, and when she started receiving help for her own problems, and when Isak finally dared come out to her and she just held him tight and told him she’ll always love him, he thought, he might be a tiny bit lucky to end up in this universe after all.

But Even, Even doesn’t look convinced. On the contrary, he purses his lips sceptically.

“I don’t know. I want to matter, I think. I want my choices to matter. I wouldn’t want to be just one version of me having the bad luck to be dropped into a shitty universe where I’m doomed to unhappiness knowing there are millions of other me’s out there having the time of their lives. That’s something I want to have power over myself.”

“You think you’re dropped into a shitty universe?”

You think you’re doomed to unhappiness?

“Don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Isak huffs. “It’s not like I keep that a secret. You just—you feel very, I don’t know. Happy. Carefree.”

Even’s silence as he keeps his gaze firmly on the stars speaks a lot for itself, and Isak thinks, maybe they have more in common than he thought. It takes a few loaded seconds before he finally composes an answer.

“I’m bipolar,” he states, and Isak blinks because—that’s not at all what he expected to hear. He doesn’t say anything, though, just waits for Even to continue, and he does. “I had my first episode last year, at Bakka—and it was bad. Like, really bad. I lost my friends. I didn’t leave my house for weeks, until my parents checked me into a psychiatric hospital. By the time I was better I’d missed so much in school and it had blown up into such a huge deal that I just. I just needed to start over somewhere. So I did.”

His sudden honesty takes Isak back a bit, and he doesn’t answer right away in favour of letting his mind process it. The way Even’s gaze flickers nervously, however, is enough for Isak to not leave him hanging for longer than necessary.

“Thank you for telling me,” he settles for quietly.

“It doesn’t bother you?”

Even doesn’t even get to finish the sentence before Isak starts fervently shaking his head.

“I value that you chose to tell me about it. You haven’t known me for that long, I wouldn’t blame you for not trusting me. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“No?” He sounds hesitant, and to entertain the thought that this usually isn’t the response he gets is kind of heart-tearing.

Isak shrugs. “I mean, it is a relief to know you didn’t actually serve jail time or go into porn.”

Even raises a suggestive eyebrow. “One doesn’t have to negate the other.”

It earns him a shove. “Shut up.”

Even just laughs, and it’s an entrancing sound. Isak brings his hot chocolate to his lips to give himself time to recompose before he starts talking again.

“I’m sorry you lost friends, though. Have you spoken to them at all?”

Even scratches his neck, something uncharacteristically nervous and small fleeting over his features.

“No. They tried to call and text and stuff at first, but I was depressed and really not in the right mindset to explain everything to them. By the time I’d finally gotten better I just—too much time had passed, and. I guess I was embarrassed, too. I caused them a lot of distress while I was manic.”

Isak makes a pensive sound.

“My mom is schizophrenic,” he says, then. “It was really bad when I was younger, to the point where I even ran away from home for a while, because she was barely ever lucid and I was scared and I couldn’t take care of her. We didn’t talk for almost a year. But—she met the right people, and eventually she was admitted to a hospital, too. It helped her a lot, and as she got better, we started talking again, too. And I held a grudge in the beginning, because her illness never really let me be a child, you know, but she finally got to share how she felt, and as she did, I could understand her again. Forgive her. And we have a very good relationship today. So, you know. Take from that story what you will.”

The left corner of Even’s mouth perks up a little, but it’s not entirely happy.

“Maybe at some point. I don’t know. They’re probably better off without me.”

“You don’t know that.”

He doesn’t get a reply, the other boy just looking down on his hands with a furrowed brow. Isak’s not one to pressure about personal things when someone doesn’t want to talk about them, so he lets it go.

“Anyways,” he speaks. “It must be really hard to get to a place where you can accept that kind of help, and to do what’s best for you, so—so I’m glad you did. And I think you’re really great for going through with it and giving yourself a restart.”

It does what he hopes—the troublesome downwards perk of Even’s chapped mouth smoothens itself out, and his posture relaxes into something warm and comfortable and secure again, as they lock gazes. The way Even looks at him, like he’s something to be awed by, makes Isak’s whole face burn crimson. Again. He’s thankful they’re surrounded by darkness.

Nothing else is said, but it’s not uncomfortable this time, either. The only other person Isak’s ever sat in silence this comfortable with is Jonas.

Next, Even reaches into his picnic basket again and pulls out one blanket. He drapes it over both of their shoulders, tucking one end into Isak’s lap and pulling the other tight around himself until they’re wrapped up in wool and body heat. Heart fluttering in his chest, Isak dares to tilt his head to the side and rest it on Even’s shoulder.

For the first few seconds, Even sits completely still, and Isak slowly starts regretting his decision—has he genuinely managed to take it too far again? Even was the one to bring the blanket out. He wrapped them around both of them. He’s been sitting pressed up against Isak all night. Isak didn’t think a humble headrest would be what crossed the line for the older boy, but maybe that is the case.

He’s just about to sit back up straight again, when Even carefully moves his arm around so it’s resting around Isak’s shoulders. Isak’s head falls in the crook of his neck instead, and the warm, honey-like smell lingering on the bare skin there is making him feel drunker than any alcohol has ever made them. 

So maybe Even deserves another chance. Maybe that’s not so bad.