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Even’s not supposed to smoke. He knows. He’s not supposed to do a lot of things, but he figures small doses of rebellion are probably better than building up resentment until he goes all out on it. It’s easier, now, a bit, to stick to the things he’s supposed to do. Not always easy, but easier. And the occasional indulgence helps.
Plus, Isak’s almost never as patient with Even’s kisses as he is when they’re both a little high. And Even loves the way he just lets Even kiss him as slowly as he likes. How he’ll basically hang on Even’s lips, eyes half-lidded and seemingly all of the concentration he can muster on following the movement of his mouth without ever really catching up. Even’s not sure if he’s just generally less high than Isak, or if it affects him differently, but whatever it is, he loves it.
Isak practically purrs when Even trails his fingers all over his face and through his hair, tilts his chin up to ask for a kiss, but never rushes Even into giving it. Not that Even generally minds being asked, or rushed. He quite agrees with the idea that they should spend as much of their time kissing as possible. Even’s generally all in, and not very good at kissing people without tongue. But sometimes he really likes the way Isak will just wait for him. Will accept his litany of little pecks before he opens his mouth against Isak’s, with Isak copying the movement. The way it feels like leading Isak through a dance he can make up on the spot and trust Isak to follow along. The gentle touch of Isak’s lips and the sweet on his tongue when they finally do meet.
Kissing when high is languid and relaxed, slow, and filled with moments where they just breathe each other’s air. Sometimes Even swears it makes him dizzy, and that’s better than any high.
The End