Chapter Text
FRIDAY, AUGUST 19, 2016
20:15
There’s a finite number of Instagram posts, and at this point in his summer, Isak is pretty fucking sure he’s seen literally every single one of them. He lays in bed with his phone on his chest and thinks that maybe he should get a job - for about half of a second. And then he snorts at the ridiculousness of that idea and flips over to Facebook.
Four solid knocks on his door give him fair warning of who’s on the other side.
“What, Eskild?” Isak asks, letting the fond exasperation shine through in his voice.
“Can I come in?” Eskild says, as he cracks the door and pokes his head into Isak’s room, eyes lit up in a grin.
“Yeah,” Isak nods even though he rolls his eyes. He pushes himself up with elbows so he can look at Eskild, which proves to be completely unnecessary as Eskild flops onto his bed heavily, landing on his stomach with his hands tucked under his chin. Isak is unimpressed.
“Isak,” Eskild declares dramatically, “I’ve decided. You’re going out with me tonight.”
“What the fuck? No,” Isak says immediately. It’s - Christ, he thinks, Eskild means well, and that’s got to count for something. Isak accidentally came out to him earlier this summer, when he came back to the kollectiv crossfaded and bitter, thinking about Jonas’s tongue inside some random girl. Ever since that whole conversation, Eskild has been constantly trying to educate him on “gay culture.” Whatever the fuck that is.
Eskild widens his eyes at Isak’s response and pouts. “Please, Isak, please. Your last experience with a gay bar is not at all what it’s supposed to be like. I’m your guru! It’s my job to show you this stuff!”
“No.” His last interaction with the world of gay bars had started as a mistake and ended with vomit and tears and a vague face that he’d only ever seen in his Instagram messages, so excuse him if he’s not too excited to repeat it.
“I’m not letting you rot in here until school starts,” Eskild says pointedly.
Isak stares back at him, narrowing his eyes.
He’s not sure what does it. It might be the fact that this is the third time they’ve had this conversation, or the fact that he just discovered a potato chip under his pillow, or the fact that he’s tired and lonely and a seventeen year old boy, damn it, but he thinks that maybe going out with Eskild won’t be so bad.
“Fine,” he says, ignoring the way his guru’s face lights up, “I’ll go.”
“Oh my God, yes,” Eskild cheers. He jumps up from the bed in delight and picks his way through piles of clothes to the door. “We’re leaving in an hour.”
“Okay, Eskild,” Isak says with another eye roll. He knows he’s being dramatic, but honestly, Eskild just encourages this kind of behavior from him. It’s like they feed off of one another. Linn fucking hates it.
Eskild pauses, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the doorknob. “Isak?” he asks, and waits for Isak to look up sullenly before he continues. “Put some actual pants on, yeah?”
“Fuck off!”
FRIDAY, AUGUST 19, 2016
21:56
Isak does put actual pants on - black skinny jeans, in fact, the ones that make Eskild raise his eyebrows and click his tongue against his teeth when he sees how they hang low on Isak’s hips. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything.
The two of them make their way to the tram. Eskild’s chattering away and throws himself into the seat sloppily, drawing attention from the other passengers, and Isak leans his shoulder into the pole and pretends like he doesn’t know the man beside him, and it’s not hard to believe because Eskild’s wearing eyeliner on his waterline and glitter on his cheekbones and Isak’s wearing a backwards snapback and Nikes.
They end up outside the bar where they first met, and Eskild gestures Isak to the doorway with a flourish.
“Fuck,” Isak complains, “I’m having war flashbacks. Vodka trauma.”
“It’s good for you,” Eskild encourages. “We’re creating a new memory to replace the old one. Or something.”
Eskild flirts with the bouncer to get them in, laying a hand on his bicep and tilting his head back to Isak, who watches the whole thing with his hands in his pockets. He’s not quite sure how it works. He’s not complaining though; the bouncer waves them in without a second glance Isak’s way.
Bass pounds deep into his bones. He blinks a few times to get used to the harsh transition from light to dark. The interior of the club is painfully similar to how he remembers it, all shiny surfaces and purple lighting, Eskild already making eyes at three different guys.
“I’m gonna go grab a beer,” Isak says, giving Eskild an excuse to go grind on the already crowded dance floor.
“You gonna be okay?” Eskild asks, but only because he feels like he has to. His tongue flicks against his lips and Isak rolls his eyes.
“I’m not a fucking kid, Eskild. Go dance, yeah?”
Eskild shoots him a grateful grin and promptly vanishes.
Isak sighs. He’s regretting this whole thing, and he knows that he just told Eskild that he wasn’t a kid but he feels like one here, out of his depth and alone, awkward in the way that he holds his arms at his sides.
He finds his way to the bar and orders a beer, knocking it back with only a slight grimace at the taste, and wipes at the foam on his upper lip. He’s trapped in the sightline of some older guy. The man’s hair is receding and his eyes are beady and watery and Isak feels sick when the guy tips his glass towards Isak, winking. Isak breaks off eye contact and coughs. Fuck. He needs a breather.
Weaving his way through the crowd, Isak shoulders open the door to the bathroom and runs cold water over his wrists and palms. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, and he lets the darkness take him deeper into himself, water dripping slowly down his cheekbones and the side of his nose, and it’s surprisingly nice with the running faucet sounding like white noise until he hears the door creak open.
Fuck, he hopes it’s not the guy from before. He sticks his hands back under the water and avoids looking at whoever’s standing at the doorway for far too long.
“It’s really bad for the environment to let water run for that long,” a voice says, and Isak’s head fucking shoots up, because is it possible to want to have sex with someone’s voice? And yeah, wow, okay, more than just his voice, because the guy staring at him bemusedly is so fucking hot that Isak’s at a loss for words.
The water keeps running.
“You gonna get that?” the boy asks with a quirk of his eyebrows. Isak turns the water off. His brain isn’t working, blank and heavy and useless. It’s like his head is a fucking bowling ball and he stands silent with his eyes blinking wide.
“Good choice,” he says, smirking, taking a step closer to Isak on unfathomably long legs. “Environmentally conscious. I like that.”
“Yeah,” Isak says, “I recycle too.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck , why the fuck did his brain think that was a good thing to say, holy shit , he thinks he’s dying right there, but then the boy cracks a genuine smile and laughs and Isak thinks he’s dying for a whole different reason.
“I’m Even,” the boy says. “And you are?”
“Isak,” he says, in complete wonderment. He didn’t even drink that much but he feels like he’s buzzed, can’t take his eyes off Even’s face, water dripping from his hands onto the floor, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care at all, because Even’s suddenly really fucking close to him. Like, close enough he can smell his cologne and his eyes are half closed because he’s watching Even’s lips as they part around his name -
“Isak,” Even repeats. A lazy grin traces its way across his features. “Wanna dance?”
“I don’t dance.”
“Sick High School Musical reference. If you’re not keen on dancing, though, let’s go outside,” he says, and spins on his heel, leaving Isak to stare at the back of his white t-shirt for a beat before he follows him, quickening his pace to catch up.
Even reaches back as they get to the floor and grabs Isak’s still slightly damp hand to guide him through the crowd. Isak thinks his brain short circuits even more at the contact, because all the nerves in his body seem to be centered in his fingers, suddenly, and fuck his deprived gay ass for making him combust from holding hands with a boy.
Neither of them let go of each other at first when they finally make it outside. It’s suddenly a lot more real here, under the streetlights and stars, cars passing them with gentle comets of headlights. Even smiles down at him. He releases Isak’s hand slowly, fingers trailing, and turns to bend down and unlock a bike. Isak clenches his fist, still in shock, and what he thought was the thudding of the beat in the club has turned out to just be his own heart in his ears.
“Sit behind me?” Even asks, softly, and, out here, it’s the first time Isak sees him as something other than a smooth-talking fucker with blue eyes and a headband pushing back his hair. He seems almost vulnerable.
Isak swings his leg over the back of the bike.
“Grab on,” Even says, and Isak barely hesitates before he presses his palms into the top of Even’s hips and lets his fingers dig into Even’s waist. He thinks he feels Even shudder with his touch, but he can’t really tell, because suddenly Even is pedaling and the wind is whipping through his hair and he’s smiling, so natural he doesn’t even realize it’s happening at first.
So, alright, Isak believes in science, but fuck if this isn’t the most magical experience of his life.
Even lets the bike drop in front of a house and grabs Isak’s hands again, pulling him close enough that Isak can almost imagine that he can feel Even’s eyelashes flutter against his temple.
“Are you drunk right now?” Even murmurs.
“Not really,” Isak says, because it’s easier than saying I only had one beer but I think that every time you look at me I get tipsy . “Why?”
He can feel Even’s breath on his skin when he answers. “Because I really want to kiss you and I think you want to kiss me, but I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”
“Oh,” Isak exhales back.
And then he turns his head and presses his lips to Even’s.
Yeah, he’s kissed before, way too many girls and one boy, but this is the kiss that matters. This is the kiss that makes him realize what everyone’s been talking about. This is the kiss that makes him open up to let Even’s tongue brush against his own, make a noise deep in his chest and trace the hem of Even’s shirt, let Even guide him into his house and his hallway and his room and his bed.
This is the kiss that starts it all. It’s one kiss that turns into hundreds, on his lips and cheek, on his stomach, across his entire body as his back arches and he wants , Jesus fuck, he wants in a way he’s never let himself feel before.
He thinks he loses his fucking mind when Even whispers “ Isak ” into the hollow of his collarbone.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 2016
03:03
When Isak wakes up, or, more accurately, returns to consciousness, it’s dark and dense around him. He fumbles around and grabs his phone out of habit, squinting at the time - three in the morning.
He recognizes that it’s not his phone when he sees the texts suspended on the lockscreen.
Sonja (23:57) Even please answer
Just let me know you’re okay
(00:32) I’m trying to trust you but this is hard
(01:16) Text me when you get this. I’ll love you through whatever.
By the light of the clock on Even’s bedside table, he can see a framed picture of Even with his arm around some girl, and it’s the same arm that’s currently slung across his bare hip, and his mind is currently pulling a thousand warning alarms. You fucked up! Girlfriend! Get out of there! Girlfriend! He’s still so fucking hot! Girlfriend!
He just - Christ, he just fucked some guy he met in a club and he wasn’t even drunk and he woke up with darkness in his eyes and a body pressed against his own and a girl in a frame looking down upon him, and it’s too much. It’s too fucking much.
Isak slides out from Even’s arm carefully. He shuffles his feet around until he finds his pants, those damn skinny jeans, and digs around in his pockets for - yes . His phone. He’s overcome with relief for a few blissful seconds, but the screen stays black and his heart drops into his gut because it’s dead. Of course. This is what he gets for sleeping with some girl’s boyfriend. He stands still and tries to organize everything in his head.
- He’s naked in the bedroom of some guy whose last name he doesn’t even know.
- The guy has a girlfriend.
- His phone is dead.
- He doesn’t know where the fuck he is.
Okay. Okay, he can figure this out. He throws on the pants and his shirt. There’s only one phone number he knows by heart other than his own, so he grabs Even’s phone and dials from the emergency call screen, slipping out of the bedroom and praying to a God he doesn’t believe in that his best friend answers a call from an unknown number at three in the morning.
“What the fuck,” Jonas says on the other end. Isak almost cries in relief.
“Jonas?”
“Isak? What the fuck? Do you know what time it is? What number is this?”
“Yeah,” Isak says desperately, dodging the questions, “Jonas, listen, I need your help. I’m - fuck, I don’t know where I am and my phone’s dead and I need you to tell me what to do. Please.” His voice cracks at the end. He’s made it this far, but Jonas is always the one to pull him out of the shit he gets himself into, and he’s in some deep shit right now.
Jonas shuffles around and Isak can imagine him trying to untangle himself from his duvet, half asleep as he says, “Shit, yeah, okay. Are you, like, at a house?”
“Yeah, I went home with, uh, someone,” Isak says. He hopes he can just skip over the whole oh, I’m gay part.
“Can you see a street sign or something?”
Isak exhales, because that’s a good fucking idea, and he peers out the window at the end of the hallway - he can see something with words under the light outside of someone’s front door, and he rambles off the street name to Jonas.
“Okay,” Jonas says, calm and in control, “I just looked it up on Google Maps and I can be there in like fifteen minutes, so just stay there and I’ll come get you, okay?”
“Yeah,” Isak says again. His heart is settling down into something that resembles a normal rhythm.
“I’m gonna hang up now,” Jonas warns him, “but I’ll see you soon.”
The dial tone sounds in his ears but Isak thinks he’s never been more grateful in his life. He slips back into Even’s room and gazes down at the boy on the bed, sprawled out, all gangly limbs and deep breathing, and he sets the phone down as gently as he can before making his way out to the front door to wait on the porch.
It’s dark as hell outside, streetlights offering up little patches of visible sidewalk. Isak stares across the street for a long time. He counts the cracks tracing along the sidewalk that he can see and calms his breathing, slow, slow, in perfect time with the one light that flickers dimly. Warm air traces across his skin.
He almost runs to Jonas when he sees him walking around the corner. Jonas is looking at him all concerned, eyes scanning over him, and he asks, “Are you okay?” lowly.
“I’m good, just fucking freaked,” Isak says, nodding at Jonas to reassure him. “Let’s just, yeah, let’s just get out of here.”
“Isak?” a hoarse voice calls, and Isak freezes. Fuck. How did he think this would be easy? When has anything ever been easy for him?
He turns around slowly and Even’s standing in the doorway, lit by the glow of the light behind him, pushing back his hair, and fucking Christ, he looks downright sinful, like nothing but sex, disheveled and wearing only - shit, only Isak’s boxers, which clearly show the hickeys on his chest and there’s no way that Jonas doesn’t know exactly what’s going on.
Isak coughs. “I’ll, um, see you later,” he says, his whole body flushing red and he walks fast in the direction Jonas came from. He’s decidedly not looking back at Even’s house.
Jonas walks beside him in silence for a few minutes. “You ready to explain who that was?” he asks finally.
“Just some guy I met,” Isak says, looking directly forward. Jonas can put together the pieces himself and he’s really not prepared for this conversation on top of everything else that’s just happened tonight. Or last night. Or this morning. Or whatever the fuck it is.
“Okay,” Jonas says calmly. He’s not pushing, and Isak’s heart clenches, because what the hell did he do to deserve his best friend?
They keep walking, guided by the highlighted path on Jonas’s phone.
“Good looking guy, though,” Jonas offers.
Isak sputters out a laugh of surprise and stops in his tracks, turning to look at Jonas. “What?”
Knocking their shoulders together, Jonas just smiles at him. And, okay, it’s okay, because he just accidentally came out and his best friend is still beside him, still smiling, still comfortable enough to be close to him and brush their arms together and maybe it really will be okay. There’s a weight off of Isak’s chest that he didn’t know was there in the first place.
It feels like his ribcage is free to expand, which makes it easier to shimmy through Jonas’s open bedroom window when they get to his house. Isak falls into bed easily, in his clothes with a snapback smushed against the mattress, because Jonas always sleeps on the right and Isak always sleeps on the left and that hasn’t changed in the eleven years they’ve been best friends.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 2016
10:47
It’s light when Isak wakes up. Actually, light isn’t the right word - it’s downright blinding , and he blinks. Jonas is still passed out next to him. The night comes rushing back in full, vivid color, and Isak thinks dully that this is the most embarrassed he’s ever been in his seventeen years on this earth.
He plugs his phone into the wall and goes to the bathroom while he waits for it to turn back on. Looking in the mirror, Isak stands still and asks for death. Just, like, a meteor that comes down and smashes only into the bathroom, leaving Jonas and his family unharmed, Isak vaporized into a fine dust where the line of mouth-shaped bruises from his jawline to under his collar is not visible.
No meteor comes. He walks back to Jonas’s room and picks up his phone as it turns on.
Eskild (00:13) Isssssssssssssy where are u!!!!
(01:47) Im going home
Are u coming?
(02:03) Have funn baby gay!
Christ, he does not want to deal with this, like, ever. But Jonas is awake and leveling Isak with his gaze. It’s the kind of look he always has when Isak is hiding some shit, whether it be with school or his mom or whatever, and Isak runs a hand over his hair.
“Hey,” Jonas says cautiously.
Isak nods back at him.
“You hanging out here today?” Jonas asks.
“Nah, I’m, uh,” Isak coughs, and it’d be so easy to just sit here with Jonas and play video games and ignore that last night ever happened, but he’s sure Eskild has a hundred questions and he should get it over with as soon as possible. “I’m gonna head back to the kollectiv.”
“Okay,” Jonas says with his head still pressed into the pillow and his eyes squinting up at Isak. “Text me though, yeah?”
Isak throws his hand over his brow in a salute and walks backwards out of the room. He makes his way home on the tram.
Unlocking the door without making noise is a challenge, but he thinks he manages it, pressing his weight slowly against the door knob and sliding against the wall to take of his shoes and let out a breath of relief that Eskild’s probably hungover and still sleeping it off.
“So,” Eskild says, and Isak starts at the sight of him, in a silk robe holding a glass of water with one hand at this temple and his eyebrow raised. Shit. Isak relaxed too soon.
“Hey,” Isak says as casually as possible. “Coffee in the kitchen?”
He tries to walk past Eskild into the kitchen, avoiding eye contact like the fucking master of coming back home after a one night stand, but Eskild grabs his arm and he freezes.
“Isak,” Eskild says, smiling slow and dramatic, “hi. Isak.”
“Why do you keep saying my name like that?” Isak asks. He runs his palm over the marks on his neck (yikes) and avoids eye contact.
Eskild tilts his head to the side. “I think you know why.”
There’s a couple of options in this situation and Isak sorts through them all as fast as possible. He can lie and say he was at Jonas’s all night, which obviously isn’t true, but denial is a way of life for him. He can sit down with Eskild and have an honest heart to heart, and there’s no way that’s happening. That leaves the third and most appealing option - continuing to play dumb.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Isak says. He shrugs to make it more believable.
“You’re so full of shit,” Eskild hisses at him as he lets Isak pass to get to the kitchen, except Eskild’s feet still thud behind him as he walks.
He can feel Eskild’s presence hovering around him, staring at his neck and his ears as they slowly blush red, heat rising under Eskild’s burning gaze. “Don’t follow me around, Jesus Christ!” Isak spins and motions like he’s about to push his roommate.
Eskild clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Touchy! I just need to live vicariously through you.” He pouts and looks into Isak’s eyes. “Please.”
And it’s in that moment that it finally hits Isak that Eskild is not going to get off his motherfucking back about this, so he gives up, rolls his eyes and stuffs his mouth full of words that fall out fast -
“I hooked up with a guy and went home with him but then I woke up in the middle of the night and found out that he has a girlfriend so Jonas came to get me and found out that I like guys and yeah,” he says without taking a breath.
Eskild blinks.
“Okay,” he says slowly, “that’s a lot.”
Turning back around, Isak pours himself a cup of coffee, raising his eyebrows even though Eskild can’t see it. “Yeah.” He takes a sip.
“Was the sex good, though?” Eskild asks, and Isak almost dies from choking on his coffee.
“I’m not fucking answering that!”
“Fine,” Eskild says, “but let me know if you want to talk. Like, are you okay? Emotionally, I mean.”
That’s a tough question, so Isak sighs, looking at his hands wrapped around the coffee mug, and he answers slowly. “Uh. Yeah, I guess. Jonas just kind of went with it. Didn’t ask any questions or anything.”
Isak would never admit it, like, ever, but one of his favorite things about Eskild is that he knows when to push and when to sit back and let Isak have space, which is what he does right now, nodding gently and stepping away from him. Isak takes a few more sips of coffee. He lets his eyes flutter shut as he feels the caffeine trace through his veins. Which, admittedly, might be all in his head, but he decides to pretend like it’s not.
Eskild leaves back into his room but keeps his door open, an unspoken invitation in case Isak wants it. He doesn’t, but it’s kind of nice to have it there just in case.
The alert on his phone makes him freeze for a second - he hasn’t heard from his mom in a while, and now would be like, the absolute worst time for her to text, so it makes logical sense that it’s her.
Jonas: (11:12) Hey you left your snapback here
Actually never mind this is mine? Wtf
He lets out a breath because it’s Jonas , casual and just checking in, and he’s wildly grateful.
Isak: (11:13) Hahaha sorry
Jonas: (11:13) Party at Eva’s tonight?
We can meet at Mahdi’s at 18
Isak: (11:14) Chill
SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 2016
18:50
“Yeah, but there’s no fucking way that’s sanitary,” Mahdi says, looking at Magnus like he’s just said the worst thing possible. Isak tuned Magnus out a good thirty minutes ago.
“It’s not,” Jonas confirms.
Isak takes a deep sip of the beer that Mahdi had pressed into his hands the moment they walked in and stays out of the conversation as Magnus sputters, trying to convince everyone that whatever obscure sex act he did was, in his words, “completely sanitary, you fuckers!”
“We’re going though, yeah?” Jonas says eventually, and oh God, please, yes, Isak thinks, because he is so fucking tired of these conversations.
So they fan out in the streets with Isak and Jonas in the middle, Mahdi on the right and Magnus on the left. Eva’s house isn’t far, but they’re a little messy and tipsy, shoulders bumping and eyes rolling, so it takes them a bit too long to get there.
Mahdi’s roasting Magnus on a street corner when Jonas hangs back next to Isak. Isak knows what’s coming.
“Hey,” Jonas says with his tongue slightly parting the corner of his mouth, and Isak nods back at him. “You okay?”
He shoots Jonas a smile. “Yeah,” he says, “I’m okay.”
Jonas looks at him like he knows he’s not, but doesn’t say anything more, just stands beside him a way that’s silent and steady and secure.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Magnus shouts at them, Eva’s house just a few doors down and unmistakable in the music and voices flooding from the open door.
Eva’s somehow everywhere at once, and she flings her arms around Isak and Jonas the instant that they walk in. She hangs heavy with her mouth open in laughter. Isak looks over at Jonas like what can you do? because she’s already drunk and warm. He pries her off of the two of them and passes her onto Vilde, who catches her and lets her run her hands through her blonde hair, and the whole group moves deeper into the house.
They make the rounds at the party, nodding to the people they barely know before the whole group of boys end up in their usual place - the bathtub. Isak kind of hates parties. He likes pregames well enough, likes smoking his friends, likes cracking jokes and just relaxing, which he can’t do when there’s so many people around that he can’t breathe. Jonas and Mahdi get it. Magnus doesn’t.
Magnus nags the whole time about how they could be out there hooking up with girls. Isak, with his heart in his throat and smoke in his lungs, pretends not to notice how Jonas keeps steering the conversation away from girls.
He pretends not to notice, but that doesn’t mean he’s not grateful.
SUNDAY, AUGUST 21, 2016
01:29
The door to Linn’s room is shut when he gets back, and Eskild is gone, leaving nothing but the faint smell of lavender in the hallway and some dried pasta in the sink.
Isak closes the door of his bedroom and leans against it. He sighs, picturing himself melting back into the wood, letting the muscles in his shoulders relax as he closes his eyes.
It’s a little weird to go to bed, to lay on his side and think, twenty-four hours ago I was in Even’s bed , but he ignores that too, his mind already occupied with enough shit to make thinking about boys a bad choice.
Even worms his way into Isak’s thoughts anyways. It’s not his fault, he rationalizes, because the first guy he had sex with just happens to be the first guy he’s felt something for since - well, since Jonas, but that’s irrelevant. And it’s not his fault that Even’s fucking hot as hell and knew exactly how to make him feel like a thousand birds were taking flight in his body, giving him bruises on his neck while simultaneously holding him so gently that he was able to sleep more soundly than he has in months.
Fuck.
He grabs his phone and it’s not that he’s trying to find Even, but just that he’s typing Even’s name into a ton of different search bars, and if the right account happens to come up, then, well, he won’t complain.
After he’s hit Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, and is about to Google Even, he throws his phone on the bed beside him with a groan. He can’t think like this. He can’t let his fucking abandonment issues fuck this up or whatever. It was a one night stand and that’s it. He’ll never see Even again, so he tucks it away deep in between his ribcage and his heart, a surreal Friday night that will hopefully get him through all the shitty Fridays in the foreseeable future.
SUNDAY, AUGUST 21, 2016
10:01
Isak wakes up hungover. It’s not too bad, and nothing new, but it’s not exactly how he wants to spend the last day before school starts back up. He hauls himself up and trudges to the bathroom, drinking straight from the faucet with his eyes still falling shut against the bright light and white walls.
He dives back into his bed when he gets back into his room, shoulder first, rolling back and grabbing his phone as he does so. There’s only one text waiting for him and wow, okay, fuck.
Mamma: (05:16) Answer me when I call to you, my righteous God. Give me relief from my distress; have mercy on me and hear my prayer. How long will you people turn my glory into shame? How long will you love delusions and seek false gods? Know that the LORD has set apart his faithful servant for himself; the LORD hears when I call to him. Tremble and do not sin; when you are on your beds, search your hearts and be silent!!!!!!
Most of the time this shit doesn’t get to him. Most times he brushes it off, deletes the messages, moves the fuck on, but sometimes it hits him. Hard. This is one of those times.
He can almost hear the words echoing around him, bringing him back to when he was small enough to sit enraptured by the stories preached at him from the pulpit, full of power and clear, ringing voices. Because Isak, for most of his life, really, truly, honestly, believed in God. Desperately believed, clinging onto the faith until he couldn’t do it anymore. It’s hard for him to tell when it changed. It might have been when his grandmother died, or when his mom pulled the curtains off the walls in a frenzy, or the first time his dad left.
Despite everything, he’s never quite grown past the religion he was raised with, so when things are already kind of shitty, it doesn’t take much to bring him back.
When things are already kind of shitty. Give me relief from my distress.
When he’s spent the previous night making crude jokes about women and pretending like he was into the girls just outside the bathroom door. How long will you love delusions?
When he’s woken up from a heavy dream with a boy’s voice filtering through, calling him beautiful and breathing curses into his ear. Tremble and do not sin.
Do not sin.
Yeah, sometimes it’s a hell of a lot harder to ignore those texts.
SUNDAY, AUGUST 21, 2016
19:48
“Do you want me to pack you lunch for school tomorrow?” Eskild croons, teasing Isak.
Isak doesn’t even bother to look up from his phone. “No, Eskild.”
Linn’s laying next to Eskild on the other couch, her head pressed up against his knee where he’s sitting cross-legged, the light of the TV making her face look even paler. Isak’s still kind of scared of her. He never sees her, really, just senses some other presence in the apartment, but Eskild declared tonight to be family movie night and so she emerged from her room dragging a duvet and plopped down without a word.
“I hated high school,” she says tonelessly, and Eskild runs his fingers through her hair.
“Yes, Linn, we know,” he says, rolling his eyes in Isak’s direction. “She’s bitter.”
Isak’s kind of puzzled by their dynamic, but whatever. “I like the school part,” he says, “but not, like, the people part.”
“Yeah,” Linn sighs.
There’s silence for a second, broken only the shouting from whatever shitty action movie they’re watching, and then Eskild groans loudly.
“God,” he complains, “you guys are fucking depressing.”
“Go call Noora, then,” Linn says. Isak narrows his eyes - with the way she delivers it, he’s not sure if it’s an insult or a legitimate suggestion.
Whatever it is, it shuts Eskild up for a few blissful moments. Isak counts eight explosions in twenty-six seconds.
“Can you sit up so I can braid your hair?” Eskild asks Linn quietly. She shuffles up on the couch without a word, leaning back against Eskild’s chest as he begins to work deftly to pull her hair back into two braids.
Isak lets his phone land on his chest, a familiar weight, and tugs his hood up to cover his ears. It’s just so nice to live somewhere where the walls keep him safe instead of keep him contained, somewhere where raised voices mean singing Disney soundtracks instead of fighting, somewhere where there’s love and happiness and bickering and a home , above anything else. Yeah, he thinks, sappy and a little tired, it feels like home.
MONDAY, AUGUST 22, 2016
08:47
Mahdi falls into step on Isak’s left. He nods at Isak and Jonas, the three of them walking grimly, like they’re on en route to a fucking funeral. Honestly, they kind of are.
“Hey,” Magnus says, running up to them and nearly careening into Jonas. “Are you guys as pumped as I am for second year?”
“Literally no,” Isak says. He’s not even trying. It’s too damn early and he slept on his neck weird so it hurts and he’s not looking forward to this at all.
“Huh? We can hook up with all the first year girls, though,” Magnus says. Isak shoots him a glare that’s decidedly unamused. “Come on ,” he complains, “there’s bound to be some hot ones.”
“Isak’s too worried about getting a six in biology to be bothered with girls,” Jonas quips, causing Mahdi and Magnus to laugh and Isak to elbow him in the ribs, ducking his head to disguise the smile he can’t hold back.
That’s how they arrive at school on that first day: Magnus laughing with his arm around Mahdi’s neck, Mahdi pushing him off dramatically, Jonas socking Isak in the shoulder and all of them laughing like the troublesome teenage boys that they are.
Isak stops dead in his tracks. Laughter dies on his lips and he can feel the smile slide off his face, shock taking its place, his hand tightening on Jonas’s forearm.
“Fuck, Is, you’re gonna give me bruises -” Jonas breaks off when he sees Isak’s face. “Isak?” he asks, low and fast, “What’s wrong?”
He can’t move, can’t think, because fuck , he’s a planner and he did not plan for this, this was not supposed to happen, this is not good not good not good.
Jonas follows his line of sight and mumbles, “Oh, shit,” when he sees what Isak’s looking at.
And then Even lifts his head.
He’s sitting on the steps, hands wrapped around a sketchbook, and Isak desperately tries not to think about all the places on his body that those same hands have touched. Even looks so fucking good with his hair styled up and his eyes harsh blue over a black t-shirt and shit, fuck, goddamn it, this was supposed to be a one time thing and now he’s here.
“Huh?” Magnus squeaks, looking rapidly between Isak and Jonas, and they’re walking, still walking, but Isak’s eyes haven’t left Even’s and Even’s haven’t left his and -
“Nothing,” Isak says, snapping himself out of it. “I was just about to say that I should have grabbed Magnus because he’s the one into bruises.”
Mahdi crows at that, and they all start laughing again. Isak can feel Even’s eyes on him.
What the fuck is he doing here?
Like honestly, not even a cute what the fuck , but a real shaken-to-the-core, world-feels-different kind of what the fuck .
Jonas is shooting him looks and chewing nervously at his lips, and Isak wants to tell him that he’s fine but he thinks if he tries to speak, it’ll just come out as one long scream.
He focuses straight ahead. Or, well, fuck, actually, not straight, because his mind has an unfortunate habit of reminding him of exactly how Even’s mouth felt on his body at the most inopportune times. And then there’s blood rising to his cheeks and he’s walking faster and hurtling himself into his Norwegian class.
Fuck. What the hell is he going to do if this is how it is every single fucking day? If it’s every day, with Even’s eyes burning holes in his t-shirt and Jonas all nervous, hovering by his elbow, and fuck , he’s probably going to die.
Yeah. He’s going to die.
THURSDAY, AUGUST 25, 2016
15:27
Okay. Okay, so it’s been a few days and he’s still breathing. Almost a week since he’s slept with Even and he’s still alive.
Isak’s walking with his backpack slung over one shoulder, scrolling through his phone in order to avoid having to make eye contact with Even when he’s on his way out of school. It’s the first time he’s leaving school without the boys around him. He’s been staring with his brows knit at the same Instagram post for the entire walk across the courtyard, and he’s trying very fucking hard to act like he doesn’t know where Even usually sits.
It’s only from the corner of his vision that he sees someone approaching him from the side.
Fuck, he thinks dully, because it’s someone tall with blonde hair and sunglasses and a shirt that’s just slipping slightly to the side to reveal his collar bone and -
“Isak,” a voice says.
Isak jerks a bit, pulling his head up from his phone to see… Sana Bakkoush? He’s confused on so many levels right now. Some sense lets him know that Even’s backed off and is sitting down in his normal spot.
“Hi?” he says, and he knows he’s giving Sana a weird look but first of all, he’s still on edge from Even, and second of all, he doesn’t know why she’s talking to him. They only know each other by association, through Eva, but even that’s a loose connection, because Isak’s friendship with Eva ended right around the same time that Sana’s began.
“Isak, yeah?” she asks, staring at him with dark lips slightly parted, like he’s the stupidest thing she’s ever seen.
He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”
“Did you understand what we went over in class?” Sana seems almost businesslike in how she speaks to him, and it’s disorienting after he’s spent the last few days floating in a cloud.
“Class…” he says slowly as he squints his eyes at her.
“Class,” she confirms. “We have biology together.”
“Oh! Yeah, it was the stuff about cell mutations and genetic shit, right?” They’ve ended up standing by the fence that surrounds the school, Isak halfway out on the sidewalk, Sana peering up at him skeptically from underneath a black hijab and black eyeshadow.
“Genetic shit,” Sana repeats. It sounds bitter on her tongue.
Isak nods once and shoots her a smile that hopefully doesn’t look as confused as he feels.
Sana quirks her head to the side and begins to ask another question, making it part of the way through before she’s accosted by blonde hair and bubblegum pink clothes.
“Chris found a place for tomorrow,” Vilde says breathlessly. Isak rolls his eyes, an involuntary response to being this close to Vilde, and he thinks Sana sees him, because she grins a little.
“Bye, Isak,” she says as Vilde pulls her away without a second glance in Isak’s direction.
“See you.” He stands there for a second, tree branches rustling above his head and casting patterns in shadows at his feet, before he shakes his head and begins his walk to the tram.
It’s a surprisingly calming ride home, NWA in his ears. The beats are only broken by incoming texts from the group message with the boys.
Jonas: (15:49) What are we doing tomorrow night?
Magnus: (15:49) Brooooos
Any parties?
Mahdi: (15:50) There’s a Bakka party I think
Magnus: (15:50) I’m not partying with hipsters
Mahdi: (15:50) Hey you asked
Jonas: (15:52) Eva just texted she knows a place
Mahdi: (15:53) Chill
Magnus: (15:53) Chill
Can we pregame at Isak’s?
No parents ftw
Isak: (15:54) I’ll ask
Mahdi: (15:55) Thanks man
Magnus: (15:55) Yessss
(15:57) Listen up boys
We’re all getting girls tomorrow night
Mahdi: (15:58) That’s not even a question for anyone but you
It’s a few moments later that Isak gets a text from Jonas outside of the group, which would be totally normal, except for what the message says.
Jonas: (16:03) Hey, I know you didn’t really get to tell me on your own terms or whatever but just let me know if you don’t want to hook up with a girl tmrw and I can cover for with the boys if you don’t want to tell them
Or whatever you want
Just wanted to let you know that I’m here
Okay, fuck. His mouth is dry and he walks off the tram in a daze, staring down at the message on his phone. He lowkey thought this was dealt with, that they’d just go back to how it was, that Isak would get drunk and tangle his hands in some girl’s hair and force himself to move his lips around hers. It’s not going to be, like, a thing , is it?
Except maybe it is. With Even in the courtyard and the hallways, he can’t really move past it. And it - fuck, there’s a total of three people that know he likes boys, and that’s three too many because he doesn’t even really know what he is yet, and he’s standing dully in the hallway with his phone still open in his hands.
Linn’s door is shut and she might be there and she might not. Isak’s never really sure. He makes himself a snack in the kitchen, throwing slices of cheese on some bread, and carries the plate back to his room.
Isak’s bed is possibly his favorite thing on earth. He spends the next few hours there, stretched out on his stomach, flipping back and forth through his textbook and ignoring the messages from Jonas on his phone.
When he does finally reply, it’s short and he closes his eyes when he hits send.
Isak: (18:37) Thanks
FRIDAY, AUGUST 26, 2016
21:32
“Can’t we just stay in?” Isak says petulantly, frowning into his beer can.
They’re hanging out in the kitchen, the four of them slung haphazardly in the chair around the table, phones and drinks scattered in front of them.
“Just because one party got busted doesn’t mean that we can’t go to another one,” Mahdi points out.
Isak’s acting pissy as hell and he knows it but honestly, he doesn’t really give a fuck right now. “I went out twice last weekend and I’m fucking tired!” he argues.
“You went out without us?” Mahdi asks. He leans forward to grab another beer.
“Yeah, with Eskild,” Isak says without thinking.
“Fuck, like, to a gay bar or something?” Magnus laughs. Isak’s heart just about drops to the bottom of his toes. He forgets sometimes that the boys only know Eskild as Isak’s Gay Roommate and nothing beyond that, forgets that therefore everything associated with Eskild is gay.
“Something like that,” he says as casually as he can while his body is breaking out in cold sweats and his hands don’t feel like his own.
“Mahdi,” Magnus says, already moving onto more interesting topics, “what about that Bakka party?”
“I thought you didn’t want to party with hipsters,” Mahdi points out.
Jonas leans forward with his eyes still resting gently on Isak. “A party’s a party, though,” he says, and Mahdi and Magnus both raise their voices in a chorus of agreement.
Mahdi snatches his phone from the table to look up the address, asking, “So, Bakka party it is, then?”
Waiting for Isak to answer first, Jonas rests his elbows on the table and begins to bend back the tab on the top of the beer can.
“Yeah,” Isak says, taking a deep swing of the last few sips, “that’s fine.”
Magnus whoops and begins to bang his fists rhythmically on the table, chanting, “Hipster weed! Hipster weed! Hipster weed!”
FRIDAY, AUGUST 26, 2016
22:19
It’s hard to sulk in the bathroom if you don’t know the host.
It’s even harder, Isak realizes, to sulk when you don’t know anyone and your only three friends in the world are currently either hooking up with girls (Mahdi and Jonas) or desperately trying to hook up with a girl (Magnus). And so Isak finds himself in the kitchen of some random person’s house. He presses himself into a corner in order to avoid the bodies that move through the room, still holding one of the beer cans that he brought from the pregame, moody and half-drunk and wishing he had stayed home.
“Hey, you’re Isak, right?” asks a voice at his elbow. The girl is pretty, short hair and big eyes and lips pursed in a way that’s supposed to make him want to kiss them. He feels sick.
“Yeah.” She’s in his space, which, admittedly, is just the countertop and floor in this guy’s house, but he’s claimed it, so she needs to back the fuck up and stop brushing her knuckles against his side.
He shifts away from her uncomfortably. She gets the message, he thinks, her eyes flashing, but she probably thinks he’s playing hard to get or some shit, because she moves in closer beside him and smiles. Fine. He’s not fucking hard to get. He’s downright impossible.
The girl is talking, her hair brushing against his shoulder, eyelashes fluttering gently. Isak is looking anywhere but her.
It’s when her cold fingers are tracing their way up his chest and his eyes are desperately looking for one of the boys to rescue him that he sees Even. Leaning back against the doorway. Head tilted back. Blue eyes burning and Isak can’t really look away, not even when the girl dives in with lips pressing too hard against his, because Even’s smirking at him from across the room. His breath is suspended in the air between him and this fucking girl who’s way too close.
“Isak,” Even says conversationally, and how the fuck did he get over here, next to Isak and he nods his head, grinning wide like he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing to Isak, “Emma.”
Oh, shit. That’s her name.
“Mind if I steal Isak away for a second?” Even grins at Emma, wide and bright, but his eyes are - well, fuck, Isak doesn’t want to say it, but he looks almost possessive.
Emma looks between them suspiciously. “Yeah, sure,” she says slowly. “See you later.”
Isak’s only reaction is the one that comes up most around Even, his brain full of a resounding chorus of what the actual literal fuck . As in, what the fuck is Even doing here? What the fuck does he think he’s doing right now? What the fuck does he want? And okay, maybe he’s a little more drunk than he thought, because the words spill out of his mouth without his control.
“Even, what the fuck?”
Even raises one eyebrow. “It looked like you and that Emma were bonding a little too much.”
He smiles at Isak, feigning innocence, and Isak wants to tell him that it’s none of his fucking business. Like, he wants to say that, but he can’t ignore the fact that Even did lowkey save him from a hellish makeout session and he highkey looks really fucking good in that denim jacket.
Isak catches himself literally licking his lips and wants to die. Girlfriend, he reminds himself. He can’t be involved with someone who obviously has a serious girlfriend.
“She’s nice,” he says, shrugging. “You, uh, go to Nissen now?”
Even sips at his drink. “Yeah. Transferred from Bakka.”
“So that’s how you know… whoever’s house this is,” Isak says, gesturing loosely with his hand.
The smile that Even shoots back at him is completely unnecessary, lips just parting over his teeth, his eyes resting somewhere between soft and piercing, and Isak can’t handle it.
“Old friend,” Even says. “What about you?” He bends to knock their shoulders together, and the jolt of contact almost kills Isak right there. He stumbles a bit.
“Uh, friend of Mahdi’s, or something,” Isak says blankly, and something in him is aware that Even has no fucking idea who Mahdi is, but he can’t really help it because his whole body is still shaking from the aftershocks of Even’s touch.
Even smiles. “You’re so fucking cute.”
God. Christ. Fuck. Isak’s standing dead still in his place because what the hell is Even doing?
“Shouldn’t you be telling that to your girlfriend?” Isak blurts out, and yeah, okay, it might come out a little more bitter than he intended. Even blinks a few times.
“Is that why you left? After?” he asks, seemingly shocked.
Isak shoots him a look, stitching his eyebrows together while widening his eyes. “Well, yeah. Like, that’s kind of a dick move, to fuck a stranger when you have a girl.” Shit. He should probably stop drinking now, if he’s just going to start accusing Even of things and talk about their one night stand at a crowded house party.
“You’re a mean drunk,” Even says. Isak can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but he opens his mouth to tell Even that he’s not fucking drunk, and Even continues, “and Sonja’s not my girlfriend.”
“Huh?”
“We broke up,” Even says simply as a way of explanation as Isak looks up at him. He’s desperately trying to rationalize the whole thing, the framed photo and the texts about love and the whole thing -
“That’s why I was at that bar,” Even’s still saying, “because my friends were trying to cheer me up and shit.”
“Oh,” Isak says. He tries to swallow but his throat’s dry with all the assumptions he’s made, so he takes another sip of beer, draining the can entirely. Even raises an eyebrow at him. He’s about to ask something that he’ll regret, and he knows it, but his mouth is saying, “Do you want to -”
“Isak!” Magnus yells, stumbling into the kitchen. “Hipster weed in the bathroom! And I need you to help me find Jonas, you’ve always got like a fucking sixth sense about where he is.” He finally seems to notice Even when he pauses to grab another drink. “Oh. Hi.” Magnus looks between them expectantly and Isak has to breathe and remind himself that he and Even are standing far apart enough that Magnus wouldn’t be able to tell that they’d slept together even if he wasn’t drunk as hell.
“Mags, this is, uh,” he says, blanking out. He’s not quite sure what to introduce Even as. Cool guy I met in a bar? Fellow student at Nissen? Guy who’s had my dick in his mouth? Just, like, a random stranger at this party?
“Even,” Even says, smiling and reaching his hand out.
Magnus is a touchy drunk, and he grabs Even’s hand and pulls him into an obnoxious hug, clapping him on the back as Even laughs with delight.
“Wanna join us for a smoke?” Magnus asks enthusiastically.
Even raises an eyebrow back at him coolly. “Nah, I’m good. You boys have fun.”
“We always do,” Magnus choruses, dragging Isak away and alternating between chanting “Hipster weed!” and “Jonas!”
Magnus is too warm, slinging his arm around Isak’s shoulder, and Isak looks back to shoot Even an apologetic glance. Even tips his head back and winks - or, well, he tries to wink, which shouldn’t be as fucking hot as it is because it looks like he’s just closing his eyes and one’s twitching, but Isak almost falls the fuck down. He probably would have crashed into the wall if Magnus hadn’t been holding him up. Even smirks and Isak’s pretty sure that he also chokes down a laugh.
“You good, bro?” Magnus says when he sees Isak’s blushing face.
He coughs, and then says, “Uh. Yeah. Jonas is probably hooking up somewhere.”
“Okay, yeah,” Magnus says, “but, like, where?”
Isak takes a second to pause, to put Even out of his mind and just breathe, to think about where Jonas would be. Okay. They’ve been there long enough for him to find a girl, but not long enough for him to get her to a bedroom, so that means -
“The stairs,” Isak says definitively.
“The stairs?”
“Yeah, the stairs. Trust me.” Magnus looks at him skeptically but shrugs one shoulder and moves deeper into the party, heading towards the stairs off of the living room.
Magnus stops in his tracks when he sees Jonas on the stairs, leaning back against the wall with his hands on the hips of the girl in front of him.
“Holy shit?” he says. “I literally thought you were just making that up.”
Offering up a shrug of his own, Isak follows Magnus up to where Jonas is standing.
“Hipster weed!” Magnus says excitedly in Jonas’s ear.
Jonas pulls away from the girl and glances at Magnus, entirely unimpressed, before turning his eyes over to Isak and raising an eyebrow at him in a silent question.
“I’m chill,” Isak answers. Magnus just looks confused as hell.
“Chill.” Jonas turns back to the girl, who’s painfully pretty and confident, and smiles at her. “I’ll catch you later,” he tells her, and she nods.
Magnus leads them back to the bathroom where Mahdi’s perched on the counter.
“Oh,” Mahdi says when they come in, “you found them.”
“Isak was talking to some hot guy and Jonas was hooking up with some hot girl,” Magnus informs him.
“Hot guy?” Jonas asks, and Isak shakes his head imperceptibly.
“Jonas, I can’t believe you left a girl to come smoke with these losers,” Mahdi jokes.
Jonas shrugs and grins, landing himself in the bathtub, and Isak folds into it beside him. They always seem to end up in the fucking bathtub. “Gotta leave them wanting more,” he says.
Sitting in the bathtub helps him to calm down. It might be more that he’s sitting next to Jonas, or that Mahdi’s sliding into the tub and passing him the water bottle, or that he’s finally able to rest his head against the wall and let his eyes flutter shut as he inhales.
“God,” Magnus says after they sit in silence and pass the bong around a few times, “I fucking love hipster weed.”
“Can you stop saying that? Jesus Christ,” Mahdi says, shaking his head.
“I do!”
Isak is just starting to feel the high, and he must have been a lot drunker than he thought because his head kind of hurts and he feels nauseated instead of high. He’s not sure how, but he ends up sideways in the tub, his curls resting in Jonas’s lap and his legs in Mahdi’s. Eyes closed, he rests his forehead against Jonas’s stomach.
When he thinks about it, logically, when he’s hungover or when he’s stone cold sober, he knows that he drinks too much, smokes too much, occasionally takes whatever pill Jonas or Mahdi gets their hands on. And, like, it’s not necessarily healthy. But shit happens and it’s not like he has parents to yell at him. He’s got Eskild, who takes him to gay bars and kisses him on the cheeks with lips wet with some fruity drinks, and that’s it. So it’s fine. And sometimes he hooks up when girls who make him sick and sometimes lies to the police about his name, but it’s fine.
He’s lowkey dozing off when the door opens.
“Hey, man!” Magnus yells.
“Yo,” Jonas says lowly, and Isak groans, pinching his nose and tilting his head back against Jonas’s thigh. “Isak.”
“What,” Isak mutters.
Jonas lifts up his leg, forcing Isak up. He narrows his eyes at Jonas, who raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to the door so that Isak looks up at the door. Yeah, fuck.
Even looks really fucking amused.
“Hey,” Isak says, scrambling sloppily and ending up nearly falling out of Jonas’s lap.
“Hey,” Even says back, his tongue running over his lips, and wow, check that out, suddenly Isak’s head doesn’t hurt at all.They stare at each other for a second.
“You, uh,” Isak coughs, pulling his legs off of Mahdi, “want a hit?”
Even doesn’t answer. He walks over to the spot where Isak’s now sitting upright, his legs slung over the side and his shoulders wedged between Jonas and Mahdi with the water bottle in his hands. Even kneels in front of him and Isak can’t exactly breathe. They’re at eye level. Isak just - he loses any concept of where they are and his brain is just screaming incessantly and all he can see is Even between his legs and Even smiling like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Isak.
“Can I get that hit now?” he asks, eyes burning but still grinning. Isak offers it to him without saying anything.
He inhales, easy and slow, eyes still burrowing deep into Isak. Fucking hell, he can’t handle this, and he coughs and looks down at his hands where they’re knitting together against the fabric of his jeans.
“Thanks,” Even says, passing the weed back to Isak, and he desperately tries to ignore the shock that hits him when their fingers brush together roughly. He thinks he manages to mumble a response, but honestly, he has no fucking idea.
Even stands up slowly and Isak watches his legs stretch for miles. “I’ll see you around, Isak, yeah?”
Isak nods. Lumps in his throat and his heart thudding in his ears because Even looks so so so fucking good when he hooks his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans like he’s doing right now and Isak is dying, Christ, he thinks he really is.
“Boys,” Even says, tipping his chin up to them in goodbye. Jonas nods and Magnus shoots him a sloppy salute.
He leaves and they sit in silence for a second. Isak is just trying to catch his breath, because it feels like Even took all the oxygen in the room with him when he left.
“Yo, who was that guy?” Mahdi asks casually. And Isak can’t quite manage to answer.
“He’s friends with Isak, yeah?” Magnus chimes in. He’s not even really paying attention anymore, frowning with his head cocked sideways, staring at something on the wall across from them like there was something really, really , interesting over there.
Mahdi is looking at him expectantly.
“Friend, yeah,” he says lamely.
“Okay,” Mahdi says, slow and still looking at him like there’s something more, so Jonas passes him the water bottle as a distraction that’s only evident to Isak and Jonas himself. Isak doesn’t say anything, but he leans into Jonas gently. It’s okay.
They chill in the bathtub for - well, Isak doesn’t know how long. It’s long enough that his legs hurt and Jonas’s head in heavy on his shoulder and Mahdi finally gives into Magnus and agrees to go back out into the party with him, be his wingman and get him a girl. The two of them leave and Jonas closes his eyes.
“You know I love you, right, Is?” he says slowly.
“Yeah,” Isak says back. His heart swells heavy in his chest, and this time, it’s not because he’s half in love with the curly-haired boy on his shoulder, but because his best friend loves him even though he’s gay and even though the boy he hooked up with just came and smoked with them and even though the two of them are just hanging out and together and it’s Isak and Jonas, Jonas and Isak, just like they should be.
Jonas falls asleep with a baggie of weed clutched to his chest. Isak tucks it into Jonas’s front pocket and watches him sleep for a second, face smushed into the side of the tub in a way that literally has to be uncomfortable. He leaves the bathroom gently, clicking the door shut behind him. It’s quiet for a second in the hallway. If he concentrates, he thinks, he can hear Jonas breathing deeply and easily in the bathroom.
“Come outside,” a voice says.
“What?” Isak snaps open his eyes and leans up off the wall, his mouth hanging open slightly as Even raises his left eyebrow at him.
“Outside,” Even repeats, and then walks off.
Isak stands still for a solid three seconds before he hastens his step to follow Even, and Even reaches back to grab his hand in a way that brings him all the way back to last week, and holy shit, was that just last week? It’s felt like years since he’s held Even’s hand through a crowd. Everywhere that Even’s skin comes in contact with his own feels like he’s coming home, like the two of them are falling into place. Which is fucking disgusting. Wow. He’s gay as fuck.
They’re standing outside and Isak smells flowers, like the ones that his mom used to plant in the backyard. He breathes deeply. Even’s arm brushes against his. Jesus Christ, he’s so fucking gone, and his mind is simultaneously crystal clear and crowded with thought. Even’s just makes him - fuck. He doesn’t have words for it. Just that he’s never felt anything like this before, ever.
“Stars,” Even says. Calm and simple.
“What?” Isak asks again, always so fucking confused when it comes to Even.
“Stars. What are your thoughts on them?”
“Uh.”
Even looks at him in a weird way, half sad and half smiling, and he says, “Never mind.”
“No, I just -” Isak pushes his eyebrows together. “I fucking love stars.”
Even laughs shortly, a little shocked, “You do?”
“Well, yeah. So I have a, uh, a lot of thoughts on them,” Isak says. He coughs once and avoids Even’s gaze, which he can feel like a blanket over his shoulders.
“They kind of freak me out,” Even says, leaning against the wall of the house and staring up at the sky above the two of them.
“In what way?”
“Nah,” Even says, narrowing his eyes and sounding like he’s trying really hard to put his thoughts into words (it’s fucking cute), “just like, when you look at the stars, you’re so insignificant, you know? Tiny. Like, nothing you ever do in your life ever matters in the long run, like you could die and it doesn’t affect anything or anyone.”
Isak considers Even’s words. It’s dark, sure, but he’s not wrong. It’s just that Isak doesn’t necessarily agree.
“Isn’t that what makes it so amazing, though?” he says. He’s aware that he’s nerding out, still a little high, talking too much and too enthusiastically, but he honestly lives for conversations like this and somehow in the past week, it’s changed so that he lives for Even looking down on him with a fond smile and awe in his blue eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, for example, all your fuckups are completely forgiven just because they don’t really matter, like you said.”
Even smirks. “You have a lot of fuckups, then?”
“No,” Isak says, rolling his eyes even though something inside of him is screaming yes, I do, I fuck up and I’m fucked up and stop looking at me like that , “but just that there’s more out there than just us.”
“Yeah,” Even points out, “that’s what makes it so fucking terrifying.”
Isak shrugs and looks back at Even. “It’s comforting.”
They’re both quiet again, Isak breathing slowly, and he feels small under the stars in the best way, in his favorite way. In the way that he and Even are the only people to exist. The house behind them, thudding with music and yelling and lights, is completely nonexistent when there’s stars above them and Even beside him.
Oh, fucking yikes.
These are the things that he definitely should not be thinking about his one night stand that he didn’t even know existed until last week. But, like, it’s hard not to, when Even looks at him like that and takes him outside and talks to him about stars and he can’t decide if he wants to tell Even about quasars or drop to his knees and suck Even’s dick right there.
Fucking yikes is right.
“Smoke?” Even asks, tapping a carton of cigarettes against his leg.
“Fuck no,” Isak says as he wrinkles his nose. Even lets out a surprised huff of laughter.
“You don’t smoke cigarettes?”
“No?” Isak says, shocked. “They’re fucking nasty and also, like, cancer.”
“Isak,” Even says, and hearing his name from Even’s mouth definitely does not make him weak in the knees (it does), “you smoke pot.”
“Okay, yeah, and? That’s not as bad,” Isak argues.
“You’re still putting gross shit in your lungs, though!”
“At least pot is natural!”
Even chokes on laughter then, halfway through lighting a cigarette in his long fingers, and sputters out, “Oh my God, you’re one of those guys?”
“One of what guys?” Isak asks, mock offended. He bites back the biggest smile he’s ever had.
“Pot is all natural good for you granola and jogging and holding hands with nature kind of guy,” Even says. Matter of fact.
“Okay, first of all, you don’t know me at all,” Isak says, and it kind of hits him in the chest with how much that’s true and how much he wants to change it. “You wanna know what I had for dinner tonight? And last night?”
Even raises an eyebrow in response. And, yeah, Isak hates cigarettes, but Even looks so fucking hot with it burning down between his fingertips and thin smoke swirling around his head.
“Doritos.”
Even snorts. “Cool Ranch, at least?”
“No,” Isak says, smiling toothily at Even, “and I’m pretty sure they were stale.”
“You have to let me make you a real dinner sometime,” Even says, waving his hand in the air and trailing the burning end across the sky, and he’s still laughing but his eyes are telling Isak that he’s serious, and Isak is losing his breath again. Even making him dinner is, well, fuck. Oh God. It means a date, means going to Even’s house and watching him, like, make pasta for Isak and ask him what seasonings he likes and sitting across from him at a dinner table and that image is part hot as hell and part domestic as hell and he really needs to control himself because his heart is beating way too fast.
“Fuck you, I can cook for myself,” he says, shaky, but Even doesn’t seem to notice. He bumps Isak’s shoulder with his own and laughs.
“You’re a chef, then?”
“Yeah,” Isak says, “the fucking master of cooking. You don’t even know.”
“I’d like to,” Even answers quietly.
If Isak thought Even took his breath away before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s air caught in his lungs, frozen, and he’s staring at Even, who’s just answered a question that he didn’t even ask.
“Okay,” Isak says. There’s a little smile between his cheeks and he jerks his chin up at Even, once, in agreement.
“We can do that?”
“We can.”
There’s a moment then where they’re both just looking into each other, smiling softly, and it’d be embarrassing if it was anyone else, but it’s Even and it’s okay. It’s better than okay. It feels like something , or like it could turn into something. Even wants it to turn into something - wants to make him dinner, get to know him, has no girlfriend , and he’s amazed. Christ.
“Chill,” Even says, suddenly dropping the cigarette and stomping it out on the concrete beneath them. He reaches into his back pocket and whips out his phone, offering it to Isak without saying a word, and Isak looks at it blankly.
“Your number,” Even clarifies, smiling like Isak’s cute as hell.
“Oh,” Isak says, shuffling towards Even and grabbing the phone, “uh, yeah.” He puts in his number on autopilot.
“I’ll send you a text about that dinner, then,” Even says, taking his phone and walking backwards, still grinning at Isak.
Isak murmurs in response and watches Even go back into the party, turning around and immediately getting lost in the crowd.
The sky feels infinitely bigger without him.
Leaning back against the wall, Isak tilts his head back, resting it gently on the bricks. He’s so fucked. In a different way than he was last Friday night, but, like, yeah. This is definitely a full-fledged crush now, and he’s not fucking about it. He doesn’t even know Even’s last name, for fuck’s sake, and he’s only known him for a literal week. But it’s something different. It’s a boy that looks at him like he matters .
He stands out there until Jonas stumbles through the door to join him.
“Yo,” he says blearily, “Mags and Mahdi went home. You wanna go?”
Isak takes one last look at the stars and lets out an exhale that comes from his gut. “Yeah.”
He definitely does not look for Even on the way out and definitely does not feel disappointed when he doesn’t see him.