Chapter Text
There have been endlessly beautiful things written about love. For centuries people have written about the beauty of locking eyes with someone across the room, the way a hand feels when brushed under the table, lighting up every nerve in ways you never imagined. Shakespeare said “Journeys end in lover’s meeting.” Isn’t that great? People spend their time walking through life searching for meaning until one day it clicks. You’ve met your person, your soulmate, your heart’s match. It’s incredible really, for those who have the luck to experience something like that. But for most, we get tricked. Shakespeare also said “Love is blind.” And that is something I know to be true. We’re bombarded by the idea that we won’t be happy unless we’re in love. Every day it’s thrown in our faces by massive forms of commerce who use love as a marketing tool. They make us wish we had it so we buy their product rather than going out and searching on our own. Instead of focusing on love, the action of it, loving another person as they are, incomplete and flawed; we simply love the idea of another person. We want someone to care about us but we’re not willing to put in the work ourselves. Or at least, some of us are. But those of us who throw ourselves in with our entire hearts get taken for granted. We are cursed with a one-sided affair, trapped in love with someone who will never love us back, no matter how much we might care for them. Yes, I’m talking about myself. I have been in love with Eva Kviig Mohn for three unending years. She’s unbelievable. Beautiful, smart, funny, full of life. Even now, two years after our relationship ended and I can’t help but want to be with her. Just looking at her--god just the thought of her makes me weak.
“Jonas,” Isak snapped, tearing Jonas’s eyes away from his ex-girlfriend. Eva was standing across the room with her friends, laughing. “Were you listening to anything I said?”
“Hmm?” Jonas answered.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Isak said, rolling his eyes. “What have I told you about Eva?”
Jonas sighed, “I know, I know. ‘Nothing’s happened yet, so it probably won’t happen.’ A guy can dream though right?”
“You’ve been dreaming for years. It’s time to give up,” Isak said. He put a hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “Listen, I love Eva. She’s one of my best friends. But Jesus man, give it a rest. You can’t keep dragging yourself along like this pathetic puppy.”
“Oh fuck you. It’s not that obvious.”
“Not to Eva. But everyone else?” Isak raised an eyebrow at his friend.
“Fuck,” Jonas sighed. He rubbed a hand over his face.
“Jonas, when someone breaks up with you, you’ve got to move on. You go out, punch something, burn her stuff, and hook up with someone else. You don’t stay friends.”
“It’s kinda hard to do that when your best friend stays friends with her,” Jonas said with a pointed look at Isak.
He put his hands up in defense, “Hey, I offered to hang back, let the friendship diminish a little. But you said no. You thought it was better this way. Look, I’m just being honest with you, as your best friend. I think I owe you that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jonas said. “You’ve done plenty to make me feel better, thank you.” He swallowed the last bit of his beer and tapped it asking, “Next one?” Isak nodded, swallowing his beer down as Jonas made his way to the kitchen.
He snuck some of the snacks on the counter to nibble on as he rummaged in the fridge for a minute, pulling out two beers for him and Isak.
“Knock, knock,” a familiar and slightly slurred voice came from behind him. Jonas turned around and his eyes landed on Eva, leaning against the door frame. Her eyes, slightly glazed from the wine, sparkled with the reflection of the fairy lights hanging on the walls. Her burgundy dress fit her perfectly and Jonas longed to reach out and touch the bare skin that shone through the cutouts at her waist. Her hair was pulled back messily and she wore a headband with sparkly reindeer antlers and jingle bells. Jonas wanted to kiss her. He looked up and saw the mistletoe hanging above her head. He wondered if it was worth the risk, if he could blame it on a stupid tradition just to feel her soft lips against his one more time, as he’d thought about doing so many times before.
“Hey,” Jonas said, taking a sip of his beer to try and swallow the lump in his throat.
“Hi,” she said, refilling her glass from the bottle of wine on the counter next to him. “Where’ve you been all night? I feel like I’ve hardly seen you.”
Jonas laughed, “Oh you know, just talking to Isak and the guys.”
Eva nodded as she put the cork back on the wine bottle before turning to him and taking a sip. “I got you something for Christmas,” she said, cocking her head and making the bells on her headband ding.
“Yeah?” Jonas said, “That’s great because, uh, I got you something too.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Eva’s present.
“Oh!” She said, blushing. He held it out to her and she tentatively took it in her hands. “I don’t actually have yours with me. I didn’t want it to get fucked up at the party. You know how everyone gets. I know you’re gonna like it though,” she grinned cheekily.
“Oh,” Jonas chuckled. “Well that doesn’t really matter. Go on. Open it.”
She put her glass in Jonas’s hand and hastily unwrapped the small package, throwing the wrapping paper to the ground. Carefully she unwound the tissue paper and gasped as she revealed a small, delicately crocheted snowflake hanging from a thin sparkling thread.
“Oh Jonas,” she said. “It’s beautiful. Where did you find it?”
“Remember that Christmas market we went to ages ago? I found it at one of the stalls there. And, well, you always get so excited about the first snowfall. So I thought this would be nice.”
“It’s perfect,” she squealed flinging her arms around his neck. Her skin was warm from the alcohol and the stuffy apartment, but Jonas relished the feeling of it against his chest. “You’re such a good friend,” she said giving him one big squeeze before releasing him. She wrapped the snowflake back up and took her glass from Jonas. She planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek before retreating into the living room. Jonas stood there for a minute, allowing himself a small smile before joining his friends.
He found Isak, Mahdi, and Magnus in the bathroom sharing a joint and joined them. They swapped stories of Christmases past and laughed at how drunk and sloppy their friends were becoming as they got pleasantly buzzed.
“You look happy,” Isak said, nudging Jonas’s shoulder with his own as they walked out of the bathroom.
Jonas grinned, “Maybe it’s the Christmas spirit, but I’m feeling good.”
Isak scoffed, but it was true. Jonas felt warmer than he had in months. Not just from the alcohol and weed and the heat of too many bodies crowded into Eskild’s small apartment. But from everything throughout the night. Laughing with his friends over their bad dancing, watching Eskild get increasingly dressed up in decorations from around the apartment, sneaking a joint in the bathroom like they were still in high school, and Eva. Always Eva.
Jonas had been terrified to give her the ornament. It was the first Christmas present he’d gotten her since they broke up. He wanted to get her one last year, but Isak had talked him out of it, telling him the breakup was too fresh. It wasn’t, Jonas insisted. But he listened to his best friend anyway with the hope that it would make a difference.
He searched forever to find the perfect gift for her. He didn’t want it to be cheesy or too serious, so jewelry was out of the question. But he wanted it to be special, so he couldn’t just settle on a scarf, no matter how much the boys insisted.
And when he saw the snowflake ornaments he was reminded their first date. She’d looked so beautiful in the snow, cosied up in a beanie and scarf, tongue stretched out far to taste the coolness of the snowflakes that fell sticking to their clothes and eyelashes. They shared a hot chocolate after that, wandering around the streets of Oslo, hand in mittened hand.
It was perfect.
Jonas could tell from that moment that he was going to fall hard and fast for Eva. And he did. He hasn’t stopped loving her even though she stopped falling for him a long time ago. She’s seen a few people since they broke up, but nothing long lasting. Nothing that made Jonas believe there wasn’t a chance for them to work out again. He still held that hope.
Isak told him all the time how stupid he was for it, how he should stop hoping and start working toward something else. But Jonas couldn’t help it. He felt in his bones that Eva was meant to be in his life. He loved her more than nearly anyone, even if she didn’t love him back the same way. Above all else they were friends. And Jonas would keep her as a friend as long as he could, even if that meant breaking his heart every time he saw her.
“Oh,” Isak said softly, pulling Jonas to a stop next to him.
“What?” Jonas asked. “What’s going on?”
Isak jerked his head toward the door between the living room and the kitchen, the same door Eva stood under when Jonas gave her the present, the door which now held Eva wrapped in an intimate kiss with Noora.
“It’s about time they made it public,” Linn said behind them.
“Huh?” Isak asked.
“They’ve basically been dating for the last four months,” she continued. “Figured it was bound to happen one of these days. I’m surprised you two didn’t know that.” She walked off to join Chris and Vilde on the couch.
Jonas looked at Isak, who stared back at him with confusion and sympathy, before they both turned to look at the kissing girls. Their kiss was soft, it was warm, and it was devastating.
Four months? Jonas thought. How did he not know about this? How did Isak not know about this? It was hard for him to catch his breath. He vaguely heard the sound of glass breaking as he stepped on a cheap bulb. Before he knew it he found his way outside, not wearing a coat. His footsteps left marks in the snow and he ached with the cold, but the sharpness of the air in his lungs reminded him that he was here, he was alive, despite the burning in his heart.
He heard a door slam and Isak was beside him, wrapping a coat around his shoulders. Isak kept Jonas in his embrace as he pushed him forward, forcing him to walk.
“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get you home.”
“How do I look?” Sonja asked turning away from the vanity and looking at Even, who was sitting on the edge of the bed putting on his shoes.
“Fine,” he said, barely glancing at her. He was restless, he needed to get to the studio, do something productive, something creative.
“Even, you didn’t even look,” Sonja said sternly. “You know how important this meeting is. I need to make a good impression.”
“You look great Sohn,” Even said, meeting her eyes. “You always do.”
“You’re lying.” She sighed and picked up her purse rifling through it to find her cell phone. She checked the time and her messages, muttering a quiet “Fuck.”
“What?” Even asked the obligatory question.
“Nothing, Jared is just freaking out about the meeting and asked me to come in as soon as possible instead of thirty minutes from now so I’ve got to run. You’ll be okay today?”
Even rolled his eyes, “Yeah, Sonja, I’m fine. I’ve told you that a thousand times.”
“Sorry,” she said moving over to him, settling herself between his legs. “You know I worry.”
“Yeah, I know,” Even said, exasperated. “I just wish you’d listen to me.”
“I don’t think that’s very fair,” she said pulling back and putting her hands on her hips. Even simply raised his eyebrows in response. She sighed again. “Fine,” she said moving and picking up her purse. “Just remember to take your meds today.”
Even looked at the ceiling and took a deep, quiet breath.
“Even,” Sonja said turning around when he said nothing.
“I heard you,” He said sharply.
She stared at him with a look that was half annoyance, half hurt, and it made Even feel half bad. Only half though. He looked up at her with what he hoped seemed like an apologetic eyes. It must have worked because Sonja made her way back to him. She reached up to run a hand through his hair, but he dodged it. She sighed again--they were getting so frequent now that Even could almost tell what they would sound like before they even happened.
“Wish me luck?” She said, slightly hopeful.
“Luck,” Even said, standing up and planting a quick kiss on her cheek. Before she had time to say anything else, he went into the bathroom.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” she shouted through the door. In lieu of a response, Even turned on the shower and heard another sigh from Sonja as she left.
He let the water run without even thinking about getting in. Instead, opened the medicine cabinet and popped two pills into his mouth, washing them down with water straight from the tap. He lifted up the lid off the back of the toilet and removed the joint he had taped there. He cracked a window and sat on the sill, lighting up, letting the smoke sting his lungs.
He didn’t smoke often. Sonja cracked down on that not long after he was diagnosed. But now, as they were drifting apart, he started doing it more. Not enough to cause a problem with his meds--his wasn’t that reckless. Sure he’d do some pretty dumb things, but he had finally gotten to a (mostly) stable point in his life and career, and he wasn’t about to fuck up an opportunity because of his own stupidity. Not here. Not in L.A.
No, now he just did it to take the edge off. Living with Sonja was getting difficult. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t even want to be with her anymore. He knew she felt the same. They barely touched anymore. No gentle caresses that once made their friends sick with envy. Their kisses were cold, and the last time they had sex it felt like they were each using it as an escape, using each other’s bodies instead of loving each other the way they once did. Even felt disgusting afterwards, but he didn’t know how to stop.
They both knew they had to end it. But they’d been together so long he wasn’t sure they even knew how to be apart.
He sat there until he felt better, watching the smoke curl out the window with the steam from the shower. Once, he would have worried about running the water, especially hot, costing more money than he had. Now though, he couldn’t care less. The heat felt good on the cool December day.
When he nearly used up all the hot water, he turned the shower off. Normally he would spray the room with air freshener, douse his clothes in cologne, and brush his teeth so as to not let Sonja know what he was up to. Frankly though, he just couldn’t be bothered. Maybe if she smelled weed on his clothes and in their bathroom she’d get so fed up she would be the one to leave.
Maybe.
Even made his way to the in-home cutting studio he had in his house. It was Sunday, so the rest of his staff had the day off, which was good for Even. He wasn’t sure he could deal with people today. Instead, he threw himself into his work.
He was a video editor, making movie trailers for everything from big-budget blockbusters to small independent films. He was one of the best, if he did say so himself. He loved the craft of it, the dedication it required. He was so precise with everything. Which scene cut to which, what part of the score played over top, the dialogue used. Even dissected every single moment of the trailers to make sure they were perfect, that the audiences had nearly a full story, but always left wanting a little more.
He loved the minutiae of it all, knowing what a difference once second could make. The focus it required gave him a semblance of control he couldn’t get anywhere else.
When he was manic, his mind went in a hundred different places and sometimes he could create unending loops of clips that were at once chaotic and beautiful, but most of the time it was just a mess that he never really understood when he came down. When he was depressed, editing was the only thing he even came close to wanting to do. But that happened rarely and it would sometimes take him weeks to get back in the studio.
The more stable he got in both his health and career, the more time he spent there.
But when things started getting bad with Sonja, he retreated there almost entirely. When she got overbearing, he retreated to remember that he was the one in control of his life. Sometimes he would spend days on end working, when he wanted to get away. He knew it was counterproductive really, that Sonja would get concerned with him working too much and worry that he was having an episode, and then he would want to retreat even further. But still, it calmed him in a way that made it worth risking Sonja’s wrath.
He focused his mind away from Sonja and back to the trailer he was working on. It was an action film, not something he’d usually watch or want to work on. But he was friends with the director, so he offered to cut him a deal for Even’s good work.
The film was about a conventionally attractive young woman who suddenly came into a lot of money from her late father, but was now being hunted because of it. Naturally she gets help from an equally conventionally attractive male lead who is skilled in combat and flirting. It hits all the cliché’s of an action movie, and frankly the only thing Even liked about it was that it actually passed the Bechdel test. But he worked hard on it today. Partly to escape, partly so he could finish and stop working on it, and partly because the deadline was next Wednesday.
“You’ve been smoking?”
Even jumped when he heard Sonja’s shrill question. He turned around slowly, bracing himself for her anger, and she stood there in the doorway holding half a joint. Did he not hide that? Fuck, he was getting more desperate to end this relationship than he thought.
“Jesus christ,” he said rubbing a hand across his face. “When did you get home?”
“Ten minutes ago,” She said shortly. “Why were you smoking?”
Even sighed, “Because it takes the edge off and reminds me that not everything is complete shit.”
“Great. That’s really nice, Ev,” Sonja said. “Don’t you know what this does to you? What it does to your meds?”
“Of course I do,” Even said. “But I’m not an idiot. Have you seen any change in my behavior over the last three years?”
“Three years?!” She said, voice raising. “You’ve been doing this for three years?”
“Fuck Sonja, keep your voice down.”
“What for? Afraid the gardener will hear? Or the neighbors?”
“No, I don’t give a fuck about that. You’re just giving me a headache.”
“Oh, I’m the one giving you a headache. Really?” she said waving the joint in front of his face, as if that was the culprit.
“Yes, Sonja,” Even said raising his voice. “You usually are.”
“Nice,” she said again. “Really nice, Even.”
A pregnant silence settled around them and Sonja looked at him expectantly.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re really not going to say anything?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I’d like you to apologize, for one.”
“For what?” Even asked, standing up. “Getting high every once and while so I can deal with your overbearing ass?”
“Overbearing--” Sonja started. She paced back and forth, waving her finger at him, “Don’t start this again. You and I both know why I get so worried about you. Because you do stupid shit like this,” she said throwing the joint at him.
“Stupid shit that hasn’t actually made a difference in my behavior since I started doing it? Stupid shit that I limit myself to so that I can calm the fuck down without also going manic?” Even asked. His heart was hammering against his chest with anger and adrenaline from the much needed fight. “I’m not a child Sonja! I can look after myself. I remember to take my medication, I limit the amount of weed I smoke, the amount of alcohol I drink. You don’t have to watch over me all the time.”
“I have to watch over you because you never seem to know when you’re slipping,” she retorted.
“Do you think I’m slipping now?” Even asked. Sonja looked down at the rug between them. “Do you?” he asked louder.
“A bit, okay?”
“Really?” he asked. She nodded, tears in her eyes, and Even felt the fight go out of him. He sat back down, heavy into his chair and put his head in his hands.
“You spend so much time in the studio nowadays, you avoid my touch, you hardly look me in the eye anymore--”
“And you think that means I’m slipping?”
“That, or...” she trailed off.
Even swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Or?” He asked, looking up at her quickly. He face was knitted together in a way that would have broken his heart if any of it still belonged to her.
She sighed and sat down in the chair across from him, rolling close enough that their knees were touching.
“It’s not working anymore is it?” she asked. Even shook his head, afraid of his own voice. “It hasn’t been working for a while has it?”
He shook his head again. “We’ve both been unhappy for so long,” Even admitted. “I honestly can’t remember what it felt like when it did work.”
Sonja laughed sardonically, leaning back into her chair, “Neither can I, to be honest.”
“Really?” Even asked. She shook her head and laughed again. He laughed through his nose and let a small smile play at the corner of his lips. Sonja really was beautiful when she laughed. And in this moment of clarity, of revelation, she looked especially so.
“What are we doing, Ev?” she asked, the anger on her face fading, replaced by friendliness.
“Nothing good,” he laughed, the weight of their relationship already easing after their small confessions.
Sonja echoed his laugh, “No, you’re right. Nothing good. We’ve got to end it.”
Even nodded. They were silent for a few minutes, letting the moment settle. That was it then. Mutually understanding that it wasn’t working, but equally unable to say goodbye. Months of pent up feelings, resentment festering like an old wound, gone in the blink of an eye.
“When did you realize?” He asked.
“About a year ago,” she answered.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“I didn’t know how. I wasn’t sure if I could. I felt guilty wanting to leave you because--”
“Because I’m ill?” he finished for her.
“No, Even,” she said. “Well, yes. There was that. But you’re the only person I ever really loved. And I felt guilty for falling out of that.”
“Oh.” Even said.
“What about you?”
“I was afraid of losing the security of you,” he said. “But I think I fell out the same time you did.”
She nodded, understanding. “One day we might be able to be friends again. I think we were always better at that than anything else.”
Even nodded. She squeezed his hands briefly and stood up. “Well,” she said, “I guess I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. I’ll figure something out tomorrow.”
She kissed his forehead, and for the first time in months it felt nice, comfortable, platonic instead of passive.
Fuck, he thought. How could it have been that easy?
He felt relieved that it was less painful than he was expecting, that they both felt the same way. But angry that he was too cowardly to do it sooner, angry that Sonja wasn’t willing to do it either. Above all else though, he felt calm. The turmoil of the last year, battling with himself and with Sonja, was taking a toll on his health, he’ll admit. But now, for once, the thoughts that ran rampant through his head were still. And he felt, more than ever, that something good was going to happen.
“Four months though, Isak?” Jonas said three days after the party, slamming his beer down on the kitchen table. “How did we not know for four months?”
“I don’t know, honestly,” Isak said. “I mean, it makes sense for you. Your head’s been so far up her ass that it’s impossible for you to see anything. But me? How did I not know? Why didn’t she tell me?”
“To be fair, Issy, you’re not the best secret keeper,” Jonas pointed out.
“I kept it a secret that I was gay for years. I think that warrants me some secret-keeping credit,” Isak retorted.
“Eh,” Jonas said and Isak threw a chip at him. He groaned and put his head in his arms. “Seriously though, why didn’t she say anything?”
Isak shrugged. “Maybe they just wanted to take things slow?” he suggested. “Ever since Noora broke up with William she’s been taking things slower than she speaks.”
“That was like five years ago, wasn’t it?”
“It’s Noora we’re talking about. She doesn’t forget easily.”
“She’s a lesbian though, don’t you think she’d stop being hung up on it?”
“I’m not going to pretend I understand how the lesbian mind works Jonas, especially Noora’s,” Isak insisted.
“Do you think they waited because of me?” Jonas asked.
“Why the hell would they do that?” Isak asked.
“Maybe she still has feelings for me and didn’t want to hurt me?” Jonas said hopefully.
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Isak said. “Why are we still talking about this anyway?”
“Because now I have actual proof that Eva isn’t in love with me and as my best friend you’re supposed to support me as I wallow,” Jonas whined.
“Dude. I’ve been listening to you wallow for years. It’s time to move on.”
“I can’t move on. She’s everywhere I go.”
“That’s because you intentionally go places that you know she is.”
“We’re friends! I can’t hang out with my friend?”
“Not when you’re in love with them and it’s unrequited,” Isak said. Jonas huffed. “Seriously,” he said. “You’ve got to do something. Go somewhere if you need to. Hook up with someone just to get your mind off Eva. Just...please try to move on? I hate seeing you like this.”
Jonas sighed. He didn’t like admitting it, but Isak was right. This whole thing with Eva was starting to wear on him. He loved her, desperately. But he was tired of just watching her from afar. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll try.”
“Promise?”
Jonas rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I promise Isak. Can we let it go now?”
“Yeah. Now come on,” he said, draining his beer and standing up. “Mahdi’s at the bar. Let’s go get really drunk and see if Magnus will buy us food.”
Jonas laughed and stood, “Finally, you’re useful.”
“Shut up,” Isak said pushing him as they put on their coats and headed out into the snowy night.
---
Hours later, Jonas stumbled home from the bar, the boys’ words ringing in his head.
“You just need to escape for a little while,” Magnus had said.
“Yeah, go somewhere you don’t know anyone,” Mahdi echoed. “Be whoever you want to be and forget about the rest of us here.”
Isak just nodded along, glad the other guys were agreeing with him while still being sensitive to Jonas’s bruised ego.
He got himself a glass of water and sat down hard at his kitchen table. Jonas pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his social media, trying to relax and clear his mind before crawling into his bed. But it didn’t work.
Fuck, he thought to himself, maybe they were right.
And just for the hell of it, because he was drunk and confused, he started googling.
It began with very obvious and specific google searches like “how to get over your ex-girlfriend” and “what to do when your ex-girlfriend kisses her new girlfriend under the mistletoe and you’re still in love with her?” But it quickly moved on to questions like “What city is halfway around the world from Oslo, Norway?” and “Good places to travel alone” and “Best places to go for Christmas.”
Eventually he stumbled upon a home exchange website--somewhere you meet someone online and exchange houses with them for a limited amount of time. It honestly sounded kind of creepy to Jonas, but he thought it might make for a funny story later in life. So he signed up anyway. He confirmed the account, added a few pictures of his house and was totally finished setting up his profile by the time he realized what he had been doing.
He groaned to himself, muttered, “Jonas, you’re such an idiot. Pull yourself together,” before going off to sleep for as long as humanly possible.
Memories collided behind Even’s eyelids. A soft blonde girl looking shyly at him over a bagel and coffee. Kisses on ice as the snow fell around them. Shower sex. Lying on the beach, passing only a few words over the course of the day. Cheering each other on. Happy scenes blended into a swirl of chaos until Even was feeling on top of the world, thinking about asking her to marry him. Cut to black. A dark screen. He was crashing to the depths of despair, wondering why she stayed but being thankful she never left. He watched them grow, learn to love each other differently. Wariness grew between them. They were walking through a minefield, one wrong step would be catastrophe. Secrets were kept, intimacy was pulled back. Lovers turned to companions turned to enemies until there was nothing but the shallow emptiness around him.
Even woke up in a panic and unconsciously reached to his right hand side. Empty.
He knew this. Even remembered the events of the previous night. The raised voices and then the quiet disintegration of their six-year relationship.
It was fine. It was necessary. The relationship had run its course and the romance they felt disappeared a long time ago. He knew this.
But it still stung.
Sonja had been with him through everything. She was one of the first people he met when he moved to LA. Just recently accepted to university, studying Advanced Film Studies, he moved and began working as a Page for a low-budget tv show. She worked in the coffeeshop on his block and was trying to get a job with the orchestra. Naturally he went there as often as he could and spent what little money he had trying to flirt with her over the counter. It worked, and they fell in love. And when Even got a job an entry level video editing job, she baked him a cake. When she got into the orchestra he spent too much money on a fancy dinner and a drive into the country to see the stars. They moved in together and continued persevering in their careers and it was really great for a while.
But then Even was diagnosed and there was a tangible shift in their relationship. No longer were they carefree. Even stopped spontaneously taking her out on dates because every time he did, she’d wonder if he was manic. She gave up opportunities to travel with the orchestra because she needed to take care of him. Even felt guilty, of course. If it wasn’t for his mental illness she wouldn’t have stayed. She said she didn’t, but he knew she resented him. He resented himself too.
He tried to tell himself it wasn’t his fault. He knew, somewhere that it wasn’t. She martyred herself for a man who never asked her to and it broke her, broke them. But just because Even told himself it wasn’t because of him or his illness, doesn’t mean he believed it.
Even sighed and pulled the covers off himself, forcing himself out of bed. Throwing on a t-shirt jeans, he padded down to the kitchen. He wondered if Sonja was still in the house, until he saw a note taped to the coffeemaker.
“Thought it’d be better to leave before you woke up. I’ll come back next week for my stuff. All my love. -S.”
He smiled briefly before crumpling the note and throwing it in the trash. He didn’t hate her. Their break-up hurt, but only because he lost one of his only constants in his life. But maybe she was right. Maybe they could be friends again someday.
“Wow, you look like shit.”
Even looked up from his coffee and into the face of his best friend, Mikael.
“Good morning to you too,” he said bitterly. Mikael grinned and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter.
“So,” he said. “It finally happened, huh?” Even nodded.
“Are you okay?” Mikael asked, and he nodded again. “Great! Because we’ve got a trailer to finish.” Mikael clapped him on the back and pushed him toward the studio.
Mikael was Even’s best friend. They had met through Sonja, and had quickly become inseparable. They had the same excitable energy and always encouraged each other’s shenanigans when they were in college. Their interests were different--Even made movies and Mikael made music--but they always worked well together and helped each other out where they could. He brought Mikael on as a second (actually fourth) opinion on the trailer he was working on because, as per Mikael’s terrible taste, he loved action movies.
So here he was, pushing Even toward his job and not letting him linger on the break-up. Because Mikael, too, was with him when he was diagnosed. And in some wonderful twist of fate, Mikael hasn’t gotten worn down by him. He keeps him distracted, but grounded, reminding Even of his worth while keeping his brain occupied outside of its downward spirals.
“Alright boys, the boss is back,” Mikael said as they stepped into the studio. “Show him what we’ve got.”
“We?” Mutta asked.
“Mikael, you don’t even work here. You’ve hardly done anything besides see how many gummy worms you can catch in your mouth,” Adam said.
“Whatever! I gave my opinion on some very critical shots,” Mikael insisted. “Regardless, show him what you’ve done.”
Adam rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Mutta said, “Okay so we saw what you did last night and we loved it. But we think there were a few shots that could have a stronger impact.” He pressed play on the trailer and they watched the scenes unfold.
It started out slow, with a scene of funeral goers, but quickly got dramatic. Quick shots of cars, the leading lady running, a slow dramatic close up of a gun, leading lady being shoved into a car, an explosion, a flipped car, a vague idea of hope, gunfire. Cut to black.
His three friends turned to Even expectantly.
“Wow,” he said. “Wow, that looks really good. Finally. So good I might even see it.”
“Yeah?” Mikael asked.
“Oh yeah. It was great. I loved all the quick shots. How you weren’t really sure what exactly was happening, but you knew enough to want more. And the ending was really really striking.”
“Even,” Adam said. “You did the ending.”
“Yeah, I know, and I did a really good job on it,” He said earnestly. He laughed full and long when he saw his friends unamused faces. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I do really like the ending. But I really love what you added too. I love the juxtaposition of her holding the gun and then her being shoved into the car. Like you’re not entirely sure what happens to get her from Point A to Point B. It looks really good.”
“And the font on it? You thought that was okay. It wasn’t too dramatic?” Mutta asked.
“No, I thought it was perfect. I never would have thought to put a serif font on this, but I think it works really well. Gives it a sophistication that you wouldn’t get otherwise.”
Mutta breathed a sigh of relief and Adam patted him on the back.
“Great,” Even said clapping his hands together. “So that’s it then. We’re finished. Elias will be so happy we got it done a week before deadline. He’s been getting antsy.”
“When isn’t that guy antsy?” Adam asked.
“True,” Mutta said.
Even sat down and started spinning his chair side to side. He drummed his fingers on his legs, thinking, while the boys kept talking.
“What if we took off the next two weeks?” He asked, voicing the thought before it was even fully formed in his mind.
They all turned to him, dumbfounded.
“What?” Mikael asked after moment of silence.
“Are you serious?” Adam asked.
“You always say Christmas is the busiest time for us. And now,” Mutta asked, “you want to take it off?”
“Why not?” Even asked. “We could all use a vacation right?”
“Uh…I guess?” Adam said.
“Are you okay, Ev?” Mikael asked.
“Yeah what’s gotten into you?” Mutta asked.
Even looked between his friends, each with concern written on their faces. “I just feel so trapped in here lately. I feel like I need to get out of here, get out of LA for a while. I’m not manic, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know myself. I’m just…” he trailed off searching for the best word. Empty? Anxious? Unfulfilled? “Restless, or something. Don’t you ever get that way?”
“Well, yeah,” Mikael said. “But this is really sudden. Shouldn’t you take a couple days to think about it?”
He looked at Mikael and his best friend’s eyes were filled with worry. He took a deep breath.
“Yeah,” He said. “Yeah you’re right. I should think about it. Uh…take the rest of the day off guys. I’ll let you know what I decide later.”
“Okay boss,” Mutta said, standing up and saluting before grabbing his jacket.
“Whatever you say.” Adam patted him on the shoulder on his way out.
Mikael looked at Even once they were gone. “Are you sure you’re okay? I understand that you’re feeling trapped and now that you and Sonja are done you have a chance to breathe again. But...you just broke up. Like, fourteen hours ago. That’s a big change. I don’t,” Mikael swallowed hard, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Even’s heart dropped from the slightly euphoric state it had been in. Mikael was right. This was a huge change in Even’s life. He should be careful.
“I know, Mik,” he said. “But I know how to keep myself in check. I’ll let you know if I feel myself slipping. I always do don’t I?” Mikael nodded. “I promise I’ll think about it before I do anything rash okay?” Even continued.
“Alright,” he said. “You know I’ll hunt you down if you do anything stupid.”
Even laughed, eyes crinkling at his best friend’s honesty. “I know you will.”
---
He sat at his desk late that night, legs bouncing, clicking his pen, thinking. Was he slipping? Did he just not realize it? Was Sonja right and the joint had fucked something up?
No. It didn’t feel like it usually did. He was restless, sure. But it was calmer than mania. He wasn’t fixating on grandiose, out of this world ideas. He was focusing on a real, tangible goal: to get away for a while, reevaluate who he was and what he wanted to do, embrace being independent.
That wasn’t crazy, right? People did stuff like this all the time. Just because he was bipolar didn’t mean he should stop being spontaneous.
He pulled the keyboard close to him and typed. He scrolled through Google for a while, looking up vacation places, flight prices, and times.
Where would he go? It was Christmas after all, and Even had never actually experienced a white Christmas before. He looked up places in northern USA and Canada, but nothing felt right.
He looked up places in Germany, Hungary, Russia. It was all wrong. Then it hit him.
Norway.
How incredible would that be? He could burrow away in a cabin somewhere in Norway, bury himself in the snow, maybe even see an actual reindeer.
It was perfect.
He landed on a home exchange website and scrolled for a while. Bergen, Tromsø, Stavanger. There was something wrong with each of them. The house was too plain, it was too far north, whatever the reason, Even found them lacking.
He decided to look at Oslo, after eliminating it the first time for being the largest city in Norway. But he looked anyway. The first house he clicked on was newly listed--only the day before--on the outskirts of town. A log cabin style home that was small, but quaint. It looked rustic, cosy. A perfect place to spend Christmas.
Even debated with himself for thirty more seconds before tapping a message out to the owner. Before he could think another second longer, he hit send.