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It’s been going so well between him and Isak.
Even is almost certain that Isak is a curly haired angel sent down from heaven.
He remembers that very first neuroscience class, walking into the lecture hall slightly nervous, and definitely excited. The thing is, Even knew that this was a hard course. Hard, yet rewarding at the same time. His intro psych courses had gone over biology a little bit, but Even was so excited to learn the physical reasons for certain mental illnesses. Okay, so he really wanted to learn exactly how his brain acted when he was going through his manic and depressive episodes. It was just so interesting . Like in all of his psych courses, Even relates it to something that Freud said; the defence mechanism, intellectualization, is when one distances themselves from the subject of their anxieties by learning as much as they can about it from an academic standpoint. Okay, so maybe it was a little bit of a coping mechanism. However, it’s been one of the most helpful and motivational things that Even has done since being diagnosed.
Another thing that happened to be super helpful and motivational was the slightly disgruntled looking but all-too-adorable curly haired blonde boy that sat a few rows in front of him. He had practically stomped into his lecture, mumbling to himself as he looked at the seats in front of him. He narrowed in on one specific seat, smiling smugly as he sat down in it. Even had been instantly infatuated. Not sexually (okay, maybe that too), but also, like Even wanted to know everything about him. Who he was, why he always seemed so adorably grumpy, how he liked his coffee, the like.
But because Even was apparently a creepy stalker, he found himself freezing every time entered the class and saw Isak already sitting in his usual seat.
He remembers one specific class in which he managed to get there a little bit earlier than usual. Isak had trudged in a minute later, ranting loudly into his phone.
“-I’m walking into my chem lecture, right?” Isak had said, walking down the steps to his usual seat. “And this fucking dude thinks it’s an absolutely wonderful idea to sit my seat. Like seriously? I think I just about punched him in the face.”
Isak had listened to the person on the other line, laughing loudly.
“I know right?” he had replied. “The next person who fucking dares to take my seat is gonna regret it, oh my god.”
The next class, Even had walked in, delighted to see that Isak wasn’t there yet. Even had made a move to sit in his optimal Isak-stalking seat, when he stopped for a second. He had an idea. Was it a bad idea? Maybe. Was it impulsive? Definitely. Would he most likely get his ass handed to him? Almost certainly. But what could he say? Even Bech Næsheim was one desperate motherfucker.
He sauntered down the extra couple steps, and proceeded to sit in Isak’s seat. He could’ve sworn he heard gasps from his other classmates as he had done so, and Even had rolled his eyes. He supposed Isak wasn’t exactly quiet about his territorialism. He had pulled out his sketchbook, bringing up his hood in order to block out his peripheral vision, and had begun sketching a very accurate depiction of Isak: a kitten in a snapback, wearing a particularly adorable look of rage on its face.
From there, the rest was history. Even couldn’t even be mad in the slightest about his ruined sketchbook, when it meant that Isak would literally fall into his arms. Fuck, if Even was the director of his own life, this would be his absolutely ideal first meeting with the love of his life.
He always was a romantic.
The romanticism has carried he and Isak through their amazing first date, first kiss, and then their subsequent dates from then on.
Before he knew it, they had been casually seeing each other for about a month now, and Even couldn’t be happier.
There was only one problem; Isak doesn’t know that he’s bipolar.
It’s not that he thinks that lowly of Isak or anything. Since knowing him, Even knows that underneath Isak’s slightly disgruntled exterior, was one of the most caring people that Even knew. It was so very obvious in the way that Isak talks about his friends and family just how much he cares for their well-being. Not to mention, Isak is literally studying the ins and outs of human chemistry and biology, in the hopes that one day, he can help people. He lets Even rant about his classes and explain the stuff he learns in his lectures, and he is fully supportive of Even’s dream of becoming a therapist.
Obviously, Even knows this fear is a little irrational, but what fear isn’t?
The thing is, Even has never outright heard Isak talk about his support of people who are mentally ill. He also knows that some people are okay with the concept of mental illness, but do not wish to be personally involved with someone who has one. Even knows it can be a lot for someone to handle. Generally, Even’s doing really well. He’s feeling extremely hopeful about his future career, he’s doing well in school, dating a gorgeous boy, and he hasn’t had a manic or depressive episode in about a year. But he know that sometimes, shit happens. Even doesn’t exactly know how far it will go with Isak, but he needs to make sure that if they ever get to that point, that Isak is not only fully equipped and knows what to do, but also that he’s even okay with Even’s mental illness in the first place.
Even hates that this has to be such a big deal breaker, but it can’t not be. Being bipolar is not the one defining characteristic of Even, however, it is one of them. For whatever social, genetic, or physiological reasons (Even suspects that it may be a combination of all three), this has been a big part of his life. Even thinks it’s only fair that Isak should know. After all, he is no longer ashamed about his past with his mental illness, so there is no reason for Even to hide it.
This nervousness stays with him for the remainder of the week and into the weekend. It is almost six o’clock on Friday night, and Even is due to meet Isak at any second now.
He’s sitting in their usual meetup place, the café on campus with the comfy couches, where he and Isak like meet quite often and relax for a bit to talk about their lectures of the day. Even feels lucky that Isak seems genuinely interested in his major. So many people have told him that pursuing a psychology degree was not useful, as if the treatment and care of the mentally ill wasn’t something that was absolutely crucial in society.
Though Isak may find his degree interesting, he still doesn’t really know Isak’s personal opinion. One thing that Even is certain of, however, is that he is about to explode if he doesn’t say something, and soon.
“Halla,” says a voice, startling Even out of his little funk, in which he was staring down at his black phone screen.
Even jerks his head up to see Isak walking towards him, a cup of coffee in hand. (Even has tried to convince him to just cut down on the damn coffee already, but alas, Isak was stubborn as hell)
“Halla,” he says, pocketing his phone to put all of his attention on the wonderful piece of art in front of him.
Isak sits down, putting his coffee on the table in front of them before sinking back into the sofa, turning his head to look at Even. Even turns his head too, and he leans in, hands reaching out to cup Isak’s face so that he can kiss him. Isak retaliates with a pleased hum, kissing Even’s lips slow and soft. They stay like this only for a second of two, fully aware that they were in public. Even pulls away with a soft smile, rubbing his thumbs on Isak’s slightly flushed cheeks slowly. Isak closes his eyes and leans in even further to the touch, practically purring. Even swears to god, this kid is an adorable fucking kitten sometimes.
“How are you?” he asks, pulling back so that he can look at Isak properly.
“I’m good,” says Isak, grabbing Even’s hand loosely and playing with his fingers. “Glad this week is over. You?”
The thing is, Even feels fine, good even. But there is still that nagging thought at the back of his mind. Tell him, it screams.
Ultimately, Even’s downfall is his hesitation. Isak picks up on this almost right away, eyebrows furrowing in concern.
“You okay?” he asks gently, grabbing Even’s hand properly.
“Yeah,” Even says a little too quickly.
Isak looks him up and down, and frowns.
“I’m okay,” Even reiterates. Really, his mood is stable currently.
“Yeah?” Isak asks, and bless him. Isak is an absolute sweetheart, Even decides, because he isn’t judging him. He’s just listening.
Okay, so maybe Even can work his way around this without actually revealing anything yet.
“I have a question,” he says.
Isak nods his head slightly, as if to say go on .
“So in the future when you become a doctor-”
“If I become a doctor” Isak interrupts, rolling his eyes slightly.
“When you become a doctor,” Even repeats. “Let’s say you have a patient who is in a lot of distress. Maybe they’ve been hit by a car or something, and something seems slightly off about them, what do you do?”
“Off?” Isak questions, eyes focusing on nothing in particular. Even can tell that he’s thinking hard.
“Yeah, off,” Even says. “Maybe they display erratic behaviour, or they don’t seem fully present when you’re trying to talk to them.”
“Well, the first thing that I would do as a physician is treat their injuries, obviously,” Isak murmurs, furrowing his brows in concentration. “And then I would probably send them to a psychiatrist or something, because there’s obviously something else going on in their head.”
Okay, so he has basic human decency. That’s promising.
“Okay,” Even says slowly, testing the waters. “What if they weren’t just your patient?”
“I’m not so sure I’m following,” Isak says, nudging Even’s shoulder with his own gently, as if to say, go ahead, I won’t judge you.
“What if they’re a really good friend of yours?” Even rushes out.
“I…” Isak stops for a second. “I would let them know that I’m there for them, for whatever they need, but I can’t fix them.”
Phew, okay. Isak not only has human decency, but he also understands that it’s not his sole responsibility to save someone.
Time to up the ante. Here goes nothing.
“But what if they were a loved one,” Even counters, rubbing Isak’s thumb with his own absentmindedly. “Like, a parent, or a boyfriend or something.”
Isak slowly takes his hand out of Even’s. It’s almost as if what Even has said had made him curl in on himself. He hangs his head down, picking at his fingernails. Oh, fuck.
“Isak?”
“I would take care of them,” Isak says almost harshly, but it’s not directed at Even. Isak’s head is miles away from him right now. “That’s just what you do.”
Even swallows. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly, looking down at his own lap. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore spot for you.”
Isak shakes his head, his blonde curls moving along with it. “It’s okay,” he says. “I didn’t expect to react like that.”
Isak grabs his hand once more, seemingly out of whatever little trance that he was in.
“What’s this all about?” Isak asks, his voice taking on that lovely gentle tone that it had before.
Even grabs his hand a little harder. It’s just like his therapist says. Rip off the bandage. It’s unfair to himself and Isak to keep this a secret. He needs to know how Isak feels, even if it means he’ll never see him again.
“I…” The words are stuck in his throat. No, not stuck. They’re being held back. Held back by that little voice in his head saying, no, don’t tell him, don’t be selfish . He clears his throat.
“I really like you, Isak,” he says instead.
“I really like you too,” Isak murmurs shyly, playing with their intertwined fingers.
Even takes a deep breath. “But there’s something I have to tell you.”
Okay, fuck, there’s no going back there. He’s said it and Isak looks so concerned and scared and-
“I’m bipolar.”
If you were to ask Even what words went through his mind at that moment, he couldn’t even articulate it. He’d have to say it would be a cross between the world’s most pathetic whimper and a scream. Something like that.
Isak looks a little taken aback, but his hand doesn’t leave Even’s.
“You know,” Isak sighs. “There was a time where I would’ve had a very different reaction to that.”
“Yeah?” Even says, cursing himself for how much his voice was shaking.
“Yeah,” Isak says. “ You know that my mom has schizophrenia?”
Even blinks, not even trying to hide his surprise.
“I know,” Isak chuckled half-heartedly. “I don’t tell many people. It’s the reason why I moved out when I was seventeen.”
“I did wonder,” Even muses.
“Yeah, well,” Isak sighs again. “Things were really bad at home for a long time. Mom went undiagnosed for years and dad didn’t care enough to get her treatment. Eventually, he pissed the fuck off with my little sister and left me with mom.”
“Wow,” Even says quietly.
“Yeah, but anyways,” Isak brushes it off, because Even could imagine that he didn’t want the pity. He knew the feeling exactly. “Eventually things got too much for me, and so I moved out too. And I spent a long fucking time blaming her and dad for what happened to my family. I thought that I didn’t need any mentally ill people in my life, because nothing good ever came out of it. But then, one day, I woke the fuck up. It’s not my mom’s fault that she has this illness, it’s my dad’s fault for leaving me with her. He should’ve known better.”
“He should’ve,” Even agrees.
“Even, you being bipolar doesn’t make me like you any less,” Isak says, turning his body so that he can address Even properly. “It’s not your fault that your brain has a chemical imbalance and it certainly does not make you any worse of a person. I think you’re absolutely wonderful.”
“Okay,” Even counters, because he needs Isak to understand . “But you’ve only seen me at my best. You haven’t seen me at my worst.”
“I haven’t,” Isak says. “I know what this means. And I’m letting you know that I’ll be here for you, no matter what. All I ask of you is to just let me know if you’re not feeling okay, or if something’s going on, okay?”
“Okay,” Even whispers, and then he leans into kiss Isak.
The kiss is gentle, but Even feels it through every nerve in his body. Even loves kissing Isak, because it makes him feel invincible. However, it’s not the same feeling of mania, where Even has no control over his consciousness. He feels calm, in control, and so fucking happy.
Even brings his hand up to curl around the back of Isak’s neck, and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Isak all but melts into him, swiping his tongue along Even’s lower lip. Even opens his mouth slightly, allowing Isak to slide his tongue in.
Even normally wouldn’t display this kind of affection in public, but this is different. This kiss isn’t sexual. Sure, butterflies are fucking moshing in his stomach right now, and he thinks he might be panting against Isak’s mouth. But it’s so, so wonderful.
Isak is the one to pull away, resting his forehead against Even’s and nuzzling his nose. His lips are slightly red and he’s panting too. Even is glad that he isn’t the only one that feels like this.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his long eyelashes fluttering on Even’s cheeks.
“I’m okay,” Even says, his mouth curled into a small smile. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Say Isak,” he murmurs teasingly. “We’ve been on a few dates now haven’t we?”
“We have,” Isak says, pulling his head a little further back to look at Even properly.
“And dare I say, they’ve been going pretty well.”
“I think so,” Isak muses, his eyes twinkling.
“So,” Even drawls out, and throws all caution out of the wind, because fuck it. “How would you feel about being my boyfriend?”
Isak smiles, a full, wide-tooth grin, and Even cooes internally. Isak is so cute, oh my god.
“I think that would be okay,” he says.
“Yeah?” Even asks, his grin probably now matching Isak’s.
“Yeah,” Isak repeats. “Boyfriend.”