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Of course it would happen today, the day he has psychology with his perpetually sour professor. A day he is an absolute mess, not that he has an amazing track record of not being a mess, but on this particular day he was really a mess. He’d forgotten to plug his phone in last night, so it died and his alarm didn’t go off, thanks Apple and your impeccable battery life. When he did wake up, he should’ve been up half an hour ago. He rolled out of bed, managing to get tangled up in the sheets somehow and landing face first on to the carpet leaving an attractive red rug burn on the left side of his face. Then his convenient habit of being anything but organized really came in handy, so he didn’t even bother looking for clean clothes, instead just pulled on the jeans from yesterday, wrinkles and all, with a shirt that looked like there was a stain on the front but it smelled decent so he settled. He forgoed brushing his teeth, for time reasons, and made sure he had his psychology book and his portable charger, thank god he actually bought one of those even though at the time he thought it was a waste of money. He tried his best to make it to the bus, running full force, once he reached it, however, he was painfully aware that he was too late given no one else was at the bus stop. Of course, the bus was on time today. Then, To top it all off, a car drove past hitting a puddle and completely soaking the bottom of his jeans and water seeped into his worn out tennis shoes. He had about two minutes to contemplate his next move: he could wait for the next bus, which was scheduled to come in the next 20 minutes, but that’s taking a gamble bc it could really be anywhere between 10 and 45 minutes, or: he could try his best and try to run to class. God, It’s tuesday. Tuesdays shouldn’t be like this. This was monday behavior. He only had one lecture today, but unfortunately his teacher is extremely anal about tardiness and if he was late she wouldn’t even let him in the door. That left the only true option. Run. His watch read 9:12, so he had 18 minutes to get to class.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered under his breath and also vaguely cursing his idiot friends for convincing him to drink on a monday night. He raced past students and faculty, even nearly knocking down a janitor (which he did feel a little bit bad about), until he managed to traverse the three stories, because oh yeah, his class had to be on the third floor. He burst into the classroom and immediately regretted his rashness. The wooden door slammed up against the wall creating a loud crack and every single head in the room turned to look at him. His professor, who looked like a mixture of a pug dog and a sphinx cat that had just sucked a lemon, glared at him with piercing eyes. Without a word she raised an eyebrow toward the wall clock. The ticking of the clock seemed to bellow at him, shouting the time of 9:38. He sighed in defeat before retreating. He closed the door behind him, quietly this time, and leaned against it to catch the breath he had wasted running all the way there.
His breath was erratic, his heart pumping, he was becoming more aware of the wet uncomfortable weight of his pants, along with the unbearable squishing in his shoes. He groggily gathered his body, that just now decided to remind him of the aches in his bones from last night’s mistakes, and dragged himself back down the stairs. What was he supposed to do now? He had nowhere else to be. He supposed he should just go home and get out of these uncomfortable clothes and settle into bed and watch some Desperate Housewives (which absolutely no one was to know about, except Eskild who was the one who made him watch it in the first place. Now look at him, 5 seasons in and watching it even without Eskild present). He liked to think he was walking like a normal person down the stairs, but staggering was probably a more accurate term, and, unfortunately, also not even remotely looking in front of himself. So when his body slammed into a solid object but soft object, and thanks to his superior deduction skills he assumed it was another person, he couldn’t even really blame anyone but himself (although that’s never stopped him before, there was probably some dumb planet in retrograde or whatever that he could blame).
He heard a groan from beneath him, a deep voiced groan. He tilted his head to see the victim of his inattention. Of course. He’s hot. Isak considered faking his own death right there on the cold hard floor, but ultimately that was unrealistic so he stumbled to his feet and offered the guy a hand. The guy took his offer, gripping Isak’s hand with his large and oddly attractively calloused hand. The guy smoothed his jeans down before standing at his full height, and honestly, Isak could just about swoon. He was so tall . He’d always had a thing for guys who were taller than him, but unfortunately he isn’t short so most the guys he’s been with were around his height or shorter. This guy, though, he had about 10 or more centimeters on him. To add salt to the wound, he was absolutely stunning. Here this magnificent specimen of the male gender stood, bright blue eyes that Isak could just about get lost in, perfectly styled hair, only minorly affected by the fall, and the sharpest jawline he’s seen in ages. While he was wearing soggy, dirty clothes, a cluster breakout on his chin, and the remnants of the glazed donut he stuffed his face with for breakfast. Perfect.
“That was quite a tumble,” the boy’s slightly amused voice interrupted his inner turmoil.
“Shit, yeah, I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Isak apologized and reached to adjust the beanie he had put on this morning to hide his bedhead, only to find that conveniently it was no longer on his head. Lovely, absolutely splendid. He could feel the unruly tufts sticking up. The boy stared at him without speaking and Isak started to fidget under his gaze.
“Do you want a coffee?” He asked and Isak’s eyebrows shot up.
“What?”
“You look like you are having a day and you could use a coffee,” The boy replied, “You coming?”
Isak stared at the boy’s back, a nice back too, broad and tapered at the waist, as he walked away. Isak looked behind him as if maybe somehow the boy was talking to someone else, when he came to the obviously conclusion that he wasn’t, he quickly snatched up his hat and followed after him. The boy gave him a crinkly eyed smile when he caught up with him and playfully bumped his shoulder. They walked in silence to where ever the boy was taking him, which ended up being a small campus cafe on the main floor.
“Have you been here before?” The boy raised an eyebrow.
“Uh no...actually,” Isak answered and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Ah, you should, it has the best coffee, even better than some of the local shops,” The blond smiled broadly, “I always come here after class.”
“Cool,” Isak stated, failing to figure out how to give actual conversational answers. The guy didn’t seem to mind though.
“So order whatever you want, it’s on me,” The guy gestured to the black chalkboard with different types of coffee written on it.
“Wait, no you can’t do that,” Isak protested.
“Absolutely I can,” The boy grinned at him, “Go on, pick your poison.”
He stared at the menu, and tried not to focus on the gorgeous boy standing inches away, and close enough to feel his body heat radiating off of him. The cashier was a girl with dark brown hair that looked all too bored, and didn’t bother to not loudly pop her gum while she waited for them to order.
“Um, I’ll just have a vanilla latte,” Isak told the bored girl, “With a shot of espresso, actually two shots.”
“Two shots of espresso? Whoo, it’s really been a day for you, and it’s not even noon,” The boy whistled.
“Anything else?” The girl asked with monotony in her voice.
“I’ll take the iced green tea with ginger and orange,” The guy told her. Isak cringed. The boy curled his lip up at him, “What does that not sound good to you Mr. Boring Vanilla Latte?”
Isak rolled his eyes, “Tea isn’t supposed to be cold.”
“Oh are you a tea expert?” the boy teased.
“I am actually,” Isak grinned, “I am a master, actually no the master of tea and tea related beverages.”
“Tea related beverages? What does that mean?” The guys eyes twinkled.
“Ah, top secret, you have to go through rigorous training to learn that knowledge,” Isak tapped his forehead.
Before the guy could respond the girl interupted them to tell them their total. The guy winked at Isak before turning to pay for their drinks.
They waited quietly for their drinks, and Isak could swear he caught the guy throwing glances on him. He looked over, or more accurately checked the guy out, and yes, he was still hot. He was wearing a blue jean jacket over a white t-shirt, and tan pants, and dirty running shoes, yet somehow he looked 100 times more put together than Isak. The boy rolled back and forth on his heel, quietly humming to himself in that deep bravado that made Isak weak in his knees. In no time, considering there were no orders before them, the drinks were ready.
“Sit with me?” the boy’s voice raised up to for a question.
“Yeah, sure,” Isak smiled.
They decided on a booth near the back, he sat down and the other boy did as well however he spread his long arms along the back of the booth, giving Isak a delicious view as his shirt tightened across his chest.
“So,” The boy started, “What had you stumbling down the stairs?”
Isak sighed, “I was late to my psychology class.”
“Ah,” the boy opened his mouth, “Professor Ingrid?”
“Yeah.” Isak
“Yeah, she’s real anal about time, isn’t she?” Even chuckled.
“Did you have her?” He asked.
“Mhm,” Even nodded and took a drink of his tea, “She’s not so bad though.”
Isak looked at him incredulously, “You and I must have had different experiences.”
Even laughed, “Yeah she’s a piece of work, but it’s not impossible to charm her.”
“I guess I’m just not oozing charm then,” Isak grunted.
Even laughed again, and it made Isak tingle, he knows he’s not really funny yet this guy seemed to think so.
“And you?” Isak asked.
“Oh I was heading to my media studies classroom to pick up some stuff,” he shrugged, “Not really a time is of the essence errand.”
Isak’s phone buzzed as he was about to respond, he gave the boy an apologetic look before glancing at the message.
From Jonas:
Fuck dude, I think we may have switched keys last night
I woke up at Magnus’ but I really need to get in my apartment
Isak frowned and reached into his pocket, and sure enough he had Jonas’ keys for whatever reason. Once again his lucky day, a cute boy who is actually willing to give him the time of day and he just had to have his friend’s keys. It also meant that Jonas had his, so someone had probably let him in last night.
To Jonas:
Yeah I have them
How soon do you need them tho?
From Jonas:
Like 20 minutes ago :/
“Fuck,” Isak muttered.
“Everything all good?” The boy looked at him gently.
“Yeah, just I guess I got really fucked up last night, I don’t remember much. But, yeah, I have my friends keys and he needs them,” Isak answered really disappointed in the way these events were turning out.
“Ah,” The other boy smiled, though Isak thought he saw his face drop a little. That or he really wanted it to drop, if only to feed his sexually and romantically frustrated gay boy delusions.
“I guess you should probably get them to him, huh?” the other boy tapped his finger against his plastic cup.
“Yeah,” Isak said, pausing for as long as possible before finally had to stand up. The other boy stood up as well.
“I’m really sorry about running into you, and then you buying me a coffee,” Isak blushed.
“Nah,” The other drawled, “Besides it was partially my fault. You see I was distracted by the cute boy walking down the stairs and I didn’t think to stop even though he was coming right at me.”
Isak felt himself choke a little, because, what?
“Oh,” he said quietly, “Um, maybe we should meet up again then sometime? And I can return the favor?”
He punctuated that by raising his coffee cup.
“Sure, let me give you my number,” the other boy breathed, almost as if he too were holding his breath.
Isak fumbled to unlock his phone and hastily handed it over to the taller boy, any semblance of being smoothe had long left the building, probably left as soon as he heard the boy’s voice to be honest.
Isak watched long, dexterous fingers type in his number before handing the phone back to Isak, “I’m Even, by the way.”
“Isak,” he returned.
Even smirked, “I know.”
Isak nearly choked again.
“I’ll see you around, Isak,” Even smiled one last time, before waving to him and heading out of the cafe.
Well damn, Isak thought to himself, maybe today wasn’t such a bad day.