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It's hot when Isak wakes up. Actually, he's pretty sure that's why he woke up in the first place.
It's the kind of hot that hangs heavy in the air and makes his cheeks flush as his body comes awake, before he's even blinked his groggy eyes open completely. The kind that comes wafting in from outside, makes Isak want to get up and close the windows because he knows it's only going to get hotter. Even though he hates how stifling the air feels with the windows closed. How claustrophobic it gets. The dream of a breeze through the open windows usually stays just that, but even then it's better than the stale, hot air that comes with closed windows.
It's the kind of heat that's actually not that bad yet, it just carries this promise with it that today is going to be one of those days. One of those all-of-Oslo-piled-on-the-beaches, sweat-sticking-your-hair-to-your-forehead kind of days.
And he has to go up to Grefsen and water his mother's plants.
Fuck.
Isak sighs and rubs his hand over his eyes and forehead, tries not to let the bad mood he can feel sinking its claws into the pit of his belly settle in.
It's-- fuck, Isak likes summer. Loves summer. Loves the long days and even the heat, most of the time. The way the air feels. He never feels more alive than in summer.
And he loves his mum. He made her a promise and he should have just gone last night, but he didn't. He made that choice, so now he has to go today, there's nothing to it.
Isak sighs again, turns his head to make sure he hasn't woken Even.
Even's face is still calm with sleep, though there's a tiny frown marring his brow, probably from how he must be getting hot under the duvet he's got pulled up to his ear.
Suppressing yet another sigh, Isak makes himself smile at the sight of him, a little bit of the tension seeping out of his shoulders and jaw. Then he slips out of bed and reaches for the duvet carefully, pulling it down over Even's shoulders. Even adjusts a little but slumbers on. Isak smiles to himself in satisfaction and then makes his way to the bathroom. He drops the underwear he'd slept in and steps into the shower, the water soothing the rest of the tension out of his body. By the time he steps back out, he feels like a human being again, refreshed and clean.
He'll grab a bite to eat, kiss Even goodbye, cycle up to water the plants, and in about an hour he'll be back and they can spend the rest of the day however they want. They're both off work today and it's lovely out, after all. Maybe they'll join the rest of Oslo and find a beach, go out to one of the islands.
So he towels off and brushes his teeth, runs a comb through his hair and grabs his discarded pair of underwear on the way back to the bedroom.
Even's still snuffling quietly, so Isak drops the pants in the laundry hamper and then carefully pulls open the door to their closet. It squeaks a little and in the quiet of the room it sounds even louder than usual, but Even only continues snuffling, so Isak quickly grabs the first pair of underwear and socks he can find, reaches for one of his loose tank tops, and slips them on. His shorts are still slung over the back of one of their chairs from yesterday. He's only worn them for a few hours yesterday, and they smell okay when he brings them up to his face, so he slips them on too, even though he'd much rather wear far less clothing today.
In the kitchen he runs himself a tall glass of water and grabs a banana. Maybe he can grab them something from KB on the way back for a proper brunch-y breakfast. An actual out-of-town vacation may not be in the cards for them this year, but that doesn't mean they don't get to have nice things every now and then. Like a nice breakfast and a day spent doing nothing on Ingierstrand beach or maybe out on Langøyene. Even always likes the islands, likes finding a spot a little bit away from the crowds, when it's possible.
Isak chucks the banana peel in the bin and then turns the corner to their room, leaning in the door frame and watching Even sit up in bed.
“Morning,” Even says, rubbing at his face, voice muffled and rough with sleep still. “Do we have to get going already?”
Isak warms with affection and smiles.
“No, no, you can stay here. I'll be back in an hour or so.”
Even blinks and looks up at him from the bed with a puzzled little frown.
“What?” he asks.
“What what?” Isak asks back, amused.
“Where are you going?” Even asks, still frowning and pushing his hair back from his forehead.
“To water my mum's plants,” Isak says.
“You-- didn't you do that last night?” Even asks.
Isak shakes his head, pushing away from the door frame to walk over and crawl up onto the bed.
“No, I came straight home after work to save you from the spider by the pasta, remember?” he teases.
Even's lips twitch into a small smile, but his frown doesn't let up.
“Fuck, Isak, we're meeting Kåre on Lindøya today,” Even says, exasperated.
Isak pulls back from where he'd leaned in for a kiss and frowns himself.
“No, that's on Saturday,” he says, stomach sinking.
Even huffs an agitated sigh and shakes his head.
“No, we changed it to today because I have to take Tore's shift on Saturday, remember? I told you about this two days ago.”
Isak's stomach plummets further.
Fuck.
Fuck, Even did tell him about that.
He just… forgot.
Even must see it on his face, throwing one hand up in a helpless, annoyed gesture, and then running the other through his hair again. Isak hates seeing Even this worked up, hates it even more when he's the reason for it.
“I'm sorry,” he says, guilt pulling tight in his gut.
“Why didn't you just go last night like you said?” Even asks, distractedly digging around the sheets for his phone, groaning when he finds it, presumably at the time. “We're meant to meet Kåre at his dad's cabin in an hour and a half and help set up the barbecue and everything.”
Isak clenches his teeth and sits back at the edge of the bed.
“Because you texted me to come home immediately and that it was an emergency,” he says.
Even blushes a bit, but his frown doesn't lighten.
“So now it's my fault?”
“No, it's not--- that's not what I'm saying,” Isak says, getting up from the bed, the glass of water suddenly feeling fragile in his hand as he realises how tense he's gotten all over. “I'm sorry, and I'll hurry. We can still make it, or-- you can go ahead and I'll be there as soon as I'm done.”
He turns his back to set the glass down on their table, and when he turns around again, Even's already hastily pulling on clothes.
“You don't have to come,” he says.
“Yes, I do. It's our only shared day off this week, and I'm going to spend it with my boyfriend,” Even says, though the bite in his voice makes it sound more like a threat.
Isak balls his hands to fists.
“Even if you conveniently forgot that we're meant to be meeting my friends today,” Even adds, shoving the buttons of his shirt through their holes a lot more roughly than they deserve.
“Convene--? I didn't do it on fucking purpose!” Isak says, glaring back when Even looks up to shoot him an unimpressed look.
Fine, so maybe Isak has forgotten about Even going out to meet Kåre before, but it was once. And Isak had been in the middle of his fucking exams, forgive him for thinking he was allowed a little leeway.
“I'm sure the fact that you don't like Kåre has nothing to do with it,” Even grumbles sarcastically.
“Well, fucking excuse me I'm not the biggest fan of the guy who calls me a free-loading sugarbaby every time I see him,” Isak bites back.
Fuck, how did they get into this so fast?
“He said that once, and he was joking,” Even says and rolls his eyes like Isak's the one being unreasonable here.
Isak doesn't like Kåre, but it's definitely mutual, and the fact that Even hasn't picked up on it… whatever. Isak doesn't have to get along with all of Even's friends. It's fine. And he's mostly a work-friend anyway, so Isak doesn't have to see him pretty much ever. But whenever he does, usually because Even gets on his case about them not getting along, he can't help but feel that Kåre looks down on him, and if there's one thing Isak can't stand, it's pretentious assholes thinking they're better than him because they drink black coffee and read poetry or whatever the fuck it is.
“Whatever,” Isak says. “I said I'd come along, didn't I. I can play nice.”
He grabs his phone and wallet, shoves them into his pockets and then pops his sunnies on, storming past Even to slip into his shoes.
“You wouldn't have to play anything if you just gave him a chance,” Even says, grabbing his pan pride cotton gymsack style bag and shoving his own wallet and phone into it.
“Why do I have to be the one to--” Isak says, but gets interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Even pointedly turns away to put on his shoes, so Isak huffs an annoyed sigh and pulls it out.
It's his dad, who is almost definitely just calling to check up on him, but there's still that slim chance that he's not, so Isak picks up.
“Hi, dad.”
“Hello, Isak. How are you? And Even?” dad asks.
“Yeah, fine,” Isak says, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He's just so not in the mood. “We're good.”
“Hm, yes. That's good. And the garden? You have everything under control? You know how your mother worries.”
“Yeah, no, it's all good,” Isak says. “I'm just leaving to go check, actually.”
“Oh, wonderful,” dad says.
There's a moment's silence where neither of them speak and Isak expects his dad to hang up, but he doesn't.
“Are-- how are you and mum doing?” Isak asks, dread creeping in.
“Oh, we're doing well,” dad says with an audible smile. Isak can hear his mum say something in the background and his dad laugh in response. “Mum says hi and to give Even a kiss from her also.”
“Yeah, will do,” Isak says, eyes involuntarily flitting over to Even. Even who's looking at him a little guardedly, like he caught Isak's hesitation and worry just a moment ago. Their eyes meet and Isak nods briefly. Even nods back, and Isak feels his throat close up at the genuine relief he sees on Even's face for a moment.
God, he hates fighting with Even.
“Alright, then I'll let you go. Have a good day, Isak,” dad says.
“Yeah, you too, dad,” Isak says, and mumbles out a few more goodbyes before he can finally hang up.
“Are we good to go, then?” Even asks, like that phone call took longer than a single minute.
Isak sighs and holds back the urge to roll his eyes.
“Whatever,” he says. “But I'm not getting on a tram in this heat.”
“You want to bike there?” Even asks, clearly not happy with that plan.
“You don't have to come,” Isak reminds him.
“No, I'm coming,” Even insists, and follows Isak out the door, locking up behind them.
Isak takes the stairs quickly, Even's footfalls heavy behind him as he keeps up. Neither of them speak as they get their bikes, and Isak only makes sure Even's ready to go before he pushes off, turning down onto the street without another word.
The air is warm, but not so warm yet that it feels like driving through cotton balls. The breeze is still nice on Isak's face, even though every time he has to stop at a crossroads all the heat comes rushing back in and he can feel that he's sweating, forehead and back going sticky with it. Even's probably not faring any better than he is, but Isak only spares him the barest of glances, making sure he hasn't lost him somewhere. Even hasn't been to his mum's house all that often, and they've never taken the bike before.
The drive doesn't exactly lift Isak's mood, but it seeps out the anger and annoyance, and all that's left by the time he comes to a stop in front of his childhood home is a vague, frustrated resignation.
“Let's just get this over with,” he says, leaning his bike against the side of the house and fishing his keys out of his pocket.
Even doesn't say anything, just follows him inside and sets his bag down on the kitchen counter when Isak grabs them a glass each, filling them both with water before handing one to Even.
“Thank you,” Even says as he takes it.
Isak drains his glass fast, face still glowing and his loose top sticking to his back with sweat, breath coming a little heavy.
“I'm just gonna-- I'll be quick,” he says, and takes off towards the garden. Even's a big boy. He can take care of himself.
The garden, on the other hand, cannot, and he knows how much mum's flowers and veggies mean to her, how much she loves taking care of them and seeing them bloom and how proud she is to grow her own strawberries and everything. So even if Even's pissed at him right now, he's going to do this properly. He owes his mum that much.
That doesn't mean it's not dead boring. Even today, with is mind whirling between Even and his parents, Isak doesn't find watering plants to be particularly meditative and relaxing. He's glad it works for his mum, but it's not for him.
Still, he stalls a little. Not because he doesn't want to go to Lindøya with Even, and he doesn't want to make him even angrier, he just. Doesn't want to face that whole thing yet. Once they leave they're going to have to behave like nothing's wrong. And it's not going to work, because they both have terrible pokerfaces and then Kåre is going to know and just-- fuck. Isak is so not in the mood.
So he pulls a few weeds and collects a few strawberries, sun-warm and perfectly sweet.
At some point, he can hear Even walk up behind him, and briefly considers guiltily jumping to his feet so they can get going. Even is quicker though, sits down in the grass beside him, legs criss-crossed so their knees almost touch. What's more is that he has two glasses in one hand and a carton of juice in the other, his bag already on his back. Isak didn't know mum had any juice lying around, but then again, he also didn't check.
“I'm sorry,” Isak says. “I really didn't mean to forget.”
Even sighs, but smiles when he hands Isak one of the glasses like an olive branch.
“I know,” he says. “I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to get so upset.”
“I'm done, so we can leave. We won't be that late, yeah? You can blame me,” Isak tries to joke.
Even smiles back but shakes his head, setting his own glass down and fiddling with the carton of juice. Apricot juice. Isak's favourite.
“I already texted Kåre we won't make it,” he says.
Isak's heart sinks.
“What? No. I'll be fine, I'll just have a coffee or something and I'll play nice, I promise.”
Even laughs a little, that sweet fondness creeping back into his eyes.
“It's fine, honestly. I'm not really feeling it anymore.”
“Even--” Isak tries to say, stomach in knots, but Even interrupts him with a smile and a shake of his head.
“I'm not mad. It's fine. It's our only day off together this week, and I'd rather spend it with you,” he says. This time, it doesn't sound like a threat, but like the exact kind of soppy, romantic stuff they say to each other all the time.
Isak sighs and feels the tension drain out of his shoulders.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Even says, fondly, and leans in for a kiss. “I'm sure.”
Fighting with Even before the first kiss of the day is… ugh. Isak hates it. Hates how it makes this kind of display of affection feel fragile instead of the certainty he usually feels with Even's mouth pressed to his. So when Even pulls back, he follows, catches Even's mouth in another kiss and then another one and another one. Until Even starts to smile against his mouth and the shaking in his bones calms down.
“I'm sorry,” Isak says one last time when he pulls away for real.
“It's okay. Shit happens,” Even says. “I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have gotten so upset.”
Then he slips his bag off his shoulder and pulls out a packet of crisp bread.
“I went and got us a proper breakfast,” he says, following the crisp bread up with cream cheese, thinly sliced salmon, and a knife he must have gotten from the kitchen.
“What?” Isak asks, staring down at the small spread in the grass in front of him. “When?”
“When you were watering the plants,” Even says. “We passed that store on the way, so I went back.”
Isak stares down at all his favourite breakfast things, can practically feel how his face does that soft soppy thing it does when he smiles at Even.
“Thank you,” he says and then nods over to where there's a little shade under a tree a little further back. “Want to move?”
“Yes,” Even says immediately, following his gaze. “That sounds good.”
Isak picks the two leftover strawberries up from the grass and grabs the bread and salmon with his other hand, leaving the rest for Even. They settle under the tree, backs to the trunk even though it's not wide enough for them both to lean against. This time, their knees touch – heated, slightly tacky skin to skin, sticking them together. Isak doesn't mind one bit.
Even rips open the packet of bread and Isak pours them each a glass of juice. They move around each other seamlessly, and it makes Isak smile to himself. They eat in silence for a little while, the quiet in the garden only interrupted by the rustle of the leaves in the occasional breeze, the crunch of the bread as they chew, a few birds chirping. A child squealing with laughter a few houses over and the splash of water from what's probably an inflatable kiddie pool.
Isak gets crumbs down his loose tank, so he pulls it off to wipe them off his chest, and then decides he might as well not put it back on. It's not like there's anyone around who'd mind seeing him topless.
On the contrary, when Isak glances over at Even, Even grins and waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously.
Isak snorts a laugh.
“Like you can talk, Mr. Two-Buttons-Are-Enough,” he says, gesturing to where Even's shirt is gaping open over his pecs.
“Excuse you, I did three buttons,” Even corrects, still smiling brightly. “And I'm not complaining, am I?”
“I suppose not,” Isak says and watches as Even picks up one of the strawberries, plucking off a blade of grass stuck to it before popping it into his mouth.
He makes a satisfied moaning noise almost immediately, and Isak can't help but laugh.
“Oh my god, these are good,” Even says. “Why didn't I know that strawberries are so good when they're warm?”
Isak doesn't say anything, just hands him the other strawberry too. Even leans down and eats it out of Isak's hand directly, lips grazing his fingers just so.
“Tastes even better like that,” he says.
Isak shakes his head at him.
“Too bad that was the last one.”
Even sighs and shakes his own head, affecting disappointment.
“That is too bad. But I think I'll live.”
“That's a relief,” Isak drawls, and then shuffles around a little so he can lie down, scrunched up tank top under his head for a makeshift pillow.
Even watches him with a smile and then leans back against the tree trunk.
“Hey,” he says. “How are you doing? With your parents and everything?”
Isak takes a deep breath and drags out the exhale, then shrugs.
“I don't know. Not really my place to have an opinion, is it?”
Even hums his understanding and shrugs too.
“You're going to have one anyway, though. They're your parents. It does affect you too, a bit.”
“I'm nineteen. I moved out two years ago. They're adults. They can do what they want,” Isak says, but he knows Even's right. He does have opinions and feelings about his mum and dad 'trying again'.
For one, it's been really odd trying to think of them as a collective again, as a unit. His parents, rather than his mum and his dad.
“Do you think it's going well?” Even asks.
Isak shrugs, stomach coiling tight again.
“I guess? Dad wants to move back in if this vacation goes well,” he says.
Even hums again.
“I think I'd be… I'd be mad if I were you,” he says, carefully.
Isak bites the inside of his lip and blinks away the sudden sting in his eyes. He is mad. And he feels like shit about it too.
“It's not their fault,” he says.
“No, of course not,” Even agrees. “But I think it's okay if you're a bit hurt that… I don't know know. That they couldn't figure this out sooner.”
Isak huffs a dry, unamused laugh.
“Yeah,” he says. “That would have saved us all a world of bullshit.”
Even doesn't say anything, but he nudges Isak's knee with his foot, and Isak sighs again, trying to let go of the tension he keeps building up without noticing.
“Mostly I'm just worried,” he says and looks over at Even. “Mum's doing better, you know? And dad was happy. If he hadn't been profoundly unhappy here with--- with everything, then he'd never have left.”
“You're worried it'll happen again.”
Isak nods, looking up at Even.
“Relationships end for a reason. I'm not sure getting back together can ever really work.”
“It seems to be working for Jonas and Eva,” Even points out.
Isak shrugs.
“For now. And-- they're teenagers. There was a lot of external bullshit that contributed to them not making it too. Me, for one.”
“Hey, no,” Even says immediately, frowning. “You didn't have anything to do with your parents splitting up, and from what Jonas and Eva have both said you didn't need to push them that hard either.”
“I'm not saying I automatically ruin every relationship around me,” Isak says with a fond smile. “You're still here aren't you.”
“If we broke up, I'd want to get back together too, you know,” Even replies, grin only half-teasing.
Isak rolls his eyes.
“Anyway, I'm just saying maybe it's easier for my parents without me around and that's-- entirely possible, because kids are exhausting. And it's great if so, but also a bit. Not so great, you know?”
Even nods softly, and then shuffles around so he can lie down next to Isak, head propped up on an arm so he can look at him.
“It's a complicated topic. You're bound to have a few complicated feelings.”
“I don't like complicated feelings,” Isak pouts, smiling when it makes Even laugh.
“Tough shit,” he says, surprising a laugh out of Isak too. “But we could just lie here for a minute.”
“That's a lot less complicated,” Isak agrees, grinning his approval.
Even smiles back.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he says and leans over Isak to give him a brief kiss.
“Just a minute?” Isak bargains and Even laughs, settling in next to him.
“Many minutes,” Even relents, still smiling.
Isak rolls over and draws a line down the bridge of Even's nose, smiling back. In return, Even taps the tips of his fingers over Isak's shoulder, his smile growing wider under Isak's amused eyes until he giggles to himself.
“What?” Isak asks, quiet in the small space between the two of them.
“I love your freckles,” Even says, eyes bright. “They're so cute.”
Isak huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes.
“You're such a dork.”
“No, but they're so nice. I just get sunburn,” Even insists.
“Freckles are indicative of a higher skin cancer risk, you know?” Isak points out. “They're not unhealthy themselves but they're from a mutation that means I'm more at risk than you for that.”
Even shakes his head at him.
“Can't you let me have this? Oh my god,” he says. “You're not going to get cancer and your freckles look like paint splatter. Or stars.”
“Oh, yeah?” Isak smiles. “Are you going to draw on me and make constellations?”
“I just might,” Even says and scoots a little closer to kiss Isak again.
Even's hand is warm on his shoulder where his fingers are still dancing over Isak's freckles, and his chest is warm under Isak's hand when he reaches out and slips it into Even's open shirt. The garden's grown quieter with the rising sun and temperature, birds resting and no more children laughing a few houses over. Isak feels heat-drowsy even before Even pulls him up to lie on his chest, carding his fingers through Isak's hair. It's not exactly a do-over, falling asleep and eventually waking up together again, but Isak wouldn't want one anyway. If it's a moment spent with Even, he wouldn't want to miss it.
The End