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“Are you nervous?” Even asks, his head tilted curiously when Isak looks up to look over at him.
Isak wants to say no; to scoff and pretend that’s ridiculous, but Even probably knows him better than to believe that and he does sort of want Even’s help, so. Being honest is probably the better way forward.
“A little, yeah,” he says, looking back down at the script he’s brought over to ask Even help him study.
“You’ll do great,” Even says. “You’re very expressive.”
Isak laughs a little. “Yeah, that’s what they said too.”
When he signed up for the revue with Eva it was really only because if he didn’t get himself some friends other than Jonas and her soon, he’d probably go crazy. And he knows that she wants to find new friends too, and having just started at Nissen, the revue felt like as good a place as any to start. At least Ingrid and Sara would definitely not be hanging around. He would have signed up for one of the support groups himself, but Eva wanted the stage, so he figured he’d show up, ask to be a part of someone’s act, be rejected, and then go do one of the support things. Instead someone pounced on him as their sketch was suddenly short a best friend. A best friend with a crush on his best friend.
Story of Isak’s fucking life, apparently.
It’s meant to be a parody of something or other, so the dialogue is all a bit ridiculous, but that doesn’t mean Isak doesn’t have to memorise it anyway.
“So, shall we run lines?” Even asks, settling in on his bed beside Isak.
“Please?” Isak says.
“Shall I just be everyone else?” Even asks.
“Yes, please,” Isak grins. “I don’t know them by heart yet, so I’m going to have to read too.”
“That’s okay, you’ve got plenty time,” Even says, and scoots a bit closer so he can see the script too.
Even’s never been in the revue, but Sonja, his girlfriend, is doing it for the third year now, so he’s familiar enough with the whole thing. Sonja generally stays on the organising side of things, but as Even starts to read, putting on voices to make Isak laugh and forget his nerves, he wonders why Even has never tried it. As much as he claims Isak’s the expressive one, he’s just as much so.
They go through the whole thing four times, until the sentences roll of Isak’s tongue so easily, memorising them no longer seems impossibly difficult.
“See, you’re getting it,” Even grins when Isak lowers the script for the final time and looks up at him.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Isak says.
Even waggles his eyebrows and shoots the script a significant look before he speaks again.
“So, who are you going to kiss?”
Isak groans and covers his face with the pages as he lets himself fall sideways towards the foot end of Even’s bed.
Even laughs at him.
“That bad?” he teases.
Isak shrugs.
“This girl from 1STA, Thea. She seems nice; I don’t know,” he says.
Even hums and doesn’t say anything for long enough that Isak relaxes again and lowers the script from his face.
“I can show you a trick or two, if you’re nervous about kissing someone on stage,” Even suggests mildly, kind enough not to add for the first time. He knows perfectly well that Isak’s never kissed anyone.
“What kind of tricks?” Isak asks.
Even motions for him to sit back up, and then scoots over on the bed so they’re sat opposite each other, knees of their crossed legs pressing together.
“Right, so, you don’t actually have to kiss her to make it look like you’re kissing, for theatre,” he says. “You’re far enough away from the audience that you can fake it, if you know how.”
“Okay? How?”
“Right. The easiest way is to put your hands on her face like this,” Even says, putting his hands on Isak’s cheeks, thumbs covering Isak’s lips, “and then when you lean in, your lips don’t actually touch.”
Even leans in to demonstrate, face blurring before Isak’s eyes, nose bumping against Isak’s and breath hot on his face as he gets close, but true to his words, their mouths don’t touch.
Isak’s heart is racing in his chest.
“You can angle her away from the audience a bit as well, to help with the illusion,” Even says, pulling back and taking his hands away from Isak’s face.
“Or if it’s supposed to be more of a passionate kiss, you can wrap your arm around her entire head sort of like…” Even says and then leans closer again so he can wrap his arm around Isaks head so his fingers can cover his mouth again. “And then you basically do the same thing.”
He leans in to touch his lips to the back of his own fingers again, and Isak’s probably looking at him a little dumb-founded when he pulls back again. Isak only hopes he can’t tell how hot his cheeks feel.
Even must be wearing some sort of cologne or something. He smells really good up close.
“Or she can do that to you, if her arms are long enough, and you can just wrap yours aroung her waist, if that’s the kind of kiss you’re going for,” Even goes on and shrugs.
“And even if it’s a real kiss, it’s still only a real stage kiss, so it doesn’t have to really mean anything,” Even says gently.
Isak’s always shrugged off questions about why he hasn’t kissed anyone yet, so Even probably thinks he wants it to be special or something, when it’s really just that Isak doesn’t want to kiss a girl, but doesn’t have the courage to kiss a boy.
“Yeah, I just. Don’t want to embarrass myself,” he says with a shrug. If he has to kiss a girl, he doesn’t want that girl to go around spreading gossip about how shit he is at it. He doesn’t need to wow her, he just wants to not seem like a complete novice. Even if he can probably play it off as nerves, or just tell her that he’s never done it before, but– that’s just no one’s business, and he doesn’t particularly want to share.
“You can always practice that too,” Even suggests.
Isak scoffs. “Right.”
“I’m serious!” Even says and laughs. “It’s just acting, it’s no big deal. I’ll do it if you want.”
Isak’s gut twists hotly around itself a good number of times, and he has to fake a cough to clear his throat.
“Er, what?” he asks, laughs a little nervously. “Don’t you think Sonja would mind if you went around kissing people?”
“It’s just acting,” Even repeats and rolls his eyes, but leans over to his bedside table to pick up his phone.
“Um, what are you–” Isak attempts to ask as Even types away on it, but Even cuts him off.
“Asking her. For your conscience,” he says with a grin and a wink.
“Asking her?!” Isak repeats, twisted up guts starting to tingle. The back of his neck goes hot and cold and he kind of wishes he were still lying down instead of sitting opposite Even. Especially close enough to count the spots and freckles on Even’s face, the lashes framing his glittery blue eyes.
Even’s phone dings with a reply, and Even grins as he reads it, then holds the screen up to Isak’s face.
to: Sonja
Babe do you mind if I practice stage kissing with Isak?
from: Sonja:
lol wut? I guess? say hi
“She says ‘hi’,” Even says, as though Isak can’t read that himself.
Even drops his phone onto the duvet behind himself, and his smile softens a little when he turns back to Isak.
“You can say no, I won’t be insulted,” he says.
Isak’s not acutally sure, he can say no. It’s not that he doesn’t want– but maybe that’s why he shouldn’t– and it’s not like he wants– and did Sonja even know Even means a real kiss, with lips touching and all–? And how is Isak meant to make a decision, when can’t even finish a single thought?
“No, um. it’s chill,” he finds himself saying, knotted, hot, tingling guts plummetting to his feet. “If you–?”
Even laughs gently and nods.
“It’s chill,” he echoes, and runs a hand through his hair to brush it back from his face.
Isak suddenly feels like everything about him is out of place - his hair messy, his shirt off, his jeans twisted awkwardly - but he pushes through the impulse to fidget, and a moment later one of Even’s hands is back on his cheek, only this time his thumb isn’t covering Isak’s lips. He barely has time to get a feel for that sensation, the smooth, warm, gentle touch on his face, before Even leans in, pressing their mouths together. It can’t be more than a second or two, just a sweet, chaste kiss, but the touch of it tingles from the roots of Isak’s hair to the base of his spine. He can feel his own breath catch on the damp Even’s lips have left on his mouth, as he breathes out a tiny sigh.
Even studies him attentively for a moment, and Isak feels his cheeks warm under the attention, blinks his eyes back open and alert when he realises how hooded they suddenly feel as he’s watching Even watch him. He sort of feels like he’s stopped breathing, the only thing he can pay any kind of attention to the hard press of Even’s knees against his, Even’s hand on his face, and the pensive look on Even’s face.
Then Even leans in again, touching their mouths togehter, opening his lips so they can fit around Isak’s bottom one. Isak reciprocates without thinking about it, pursing his own around Even’s top lip, eyes falling shut without his say-so, everything except the warm, wet sweetness of the kiss falling away. It’s not much of a kiss, in the grand scheme of things. A stage kiss. A practice stage kiss with a friend.
But.
But it’s Isak’s first - second? - kiss, and there’s a noise he’s not sure he wants to make pressing against the back of his throat.
Instead, the smack of their lips separating as Even pulls away again echoes unnaturally loudly in Even’s room, and Isak forces his eyes back open when he feels Even’s thumb rub over his lips, rubbing the phantom touch of his kiss away in a way that Isak suddenly wishes he wouldn’t. Not without kissing him again and leaving him another memory of it.
Fuck.
It’s just because it’s Isak’s first kiss.
“See?” Even says, pinching Isak’s hot cheek and shocking him out of his stupor. “You’ll be fine.”
Actually, Isak can’t quite feel his toes. He really doesn’t think that’s ‘fine’.
“Yeah,” he says, glad his voice sounds mostly normal. “Thanks.”
The pensive expression on Even’s face is replaced with the smile Isak’s used to seeing on him, and he pats Isak’s cheek twice like a gentle slap.
“Wanna try running lines one more time? We can see if you remember anything already,” Even suggests.
‘Will you kiss me again?’ Isak doesn’t ask.
Instead he exaggerates a groan and flops back down onto the bed, covering his eyes dramatically with this arm.
“Fiiiine,” he says.
Even laughs and starts them off a moment later.
Isak licks his lips, chasing the feeling of Even’s pressed to them, and has to ask Even to start over when he realises he’s missed two lines. He doesn’t pull his arm back, just in case Even noticed why exactly he wasn’t paying attention.
Fuck.
The End