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5.
Isak fucking hates the Summer Solstice. More than anything. Even though it’s the time of the year when he feels closest to his magic, where the pressure that constantly thrums just underneath the surface of his skin feels the strongest, he still absolutely hates it. And there is one key reason why.
He’s wearing fucking moss pants.
They’re actual moss, being held together by tendrils of his mother’s magic in place of actual stitches. They’re itchy and super fucking uncomfortable and those feelings are amplified tenfold the more he thinks about the fact that there is actual fungus on his bare legs and on his dick.
Because on the Summer fucking Solstice, Isak isn’t allowed to wear anything that isn’t directly from the Earth. That comes on his mother’s orders, and as the Oslo High Mage of the Old Religion, whatever she says goes.
Still. He fucking hates it.
His hate for the ritual part is pretty big too. His mother and her Mage friends all get together in a circle and dance around a tree, which is a much simplified explanation of a very important part of magic where they honor the Earth in order to keep them connected to all the magic and the leylines, but still.
And now Isak is seventeen, which means that he is of age. Being of age means he has declared himself, and being of age as a declared Mage means that he has to fucking participate.
That’s the full reason as to why he is shirtless and wearing fucking moss pants in the middle of a clearing at about 11:30 at night on the Summer Solstice. It’s the worst fucking day of the year.
“Isak?” His mother calls, from all the way on the other side of the clearing where the rest of the Mages are standing. She’s holding what looks to be a green piece of cloth in her hands. “Can you come over here for a second?”
As he gets slowly closer, the green piece of cloth comes more into focus. When it gets roughly shoved into his arms, the familiar feeling of the moss that is covering his legs now on his arms as well. “No.”
“You’re my only heir Isak. You have to be identifiable somehow. Please put it on.”
What he thought was a green cloth is actually a moss cloak, the tendrils of magic stronger in this than in his pants. “Do I have to?” He whines, giving a last ditch attempt at getting out of it, but his mother just presses a kiss to his forehead and moves off to start lighting the fires, leaving him clutching the stupid moss cloak.
He flings it around his shoulders, doing the clasp up and shuddering when the moss makes contact with his bare back. The moss pants now combined with the moss cape; this easily takes out the prize for worst thing he has had to wear ever ever ever . The garish tutu and leggings that Eskild tried to dress him up in for Pride doesn’t even compare.
“Isak?”
Oh holy shit. Isak turns around sharply to see Even standing there, staring at him with his mouth wide open. There is so much film equipment hanging off of him that Isak can barely see his body, which in itself is an explanation to why he is here.
Even, who is the Bakka third year who Isak met at a party two months back and the Bakka third year that Jonas is convinced flirts with Isak every time the two of them are in the same room, is the current object of Isak’s current affections. Of fucking course he would be the one to find Isak wearing fucking moss in the middle of the forest.
“Uh, hi Even? What are you doing here?” Isak asks in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation off of the fact that he is only wearing fucking moss.
Even just keeps gaping. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
There is a default response to this. It’s a good default response. It’s one that his mother has drilled into him since he could talk, because it’s a good excuse. Part-time, and this part is true, his mother is a photographer. The front for the pagan church is her photography store.
The response that he should give Even is that his mother has dragged him to a shoot for a commission, and there’s no way he’s allowed to say no.
But there’s just something about Even that makes him want to tell him the truth - at least part of it - no matter how much the logical part of his brain tells him he shouldn’t.
“Uh, it’s part of my religion.”
“Oh?” That finally shuts Even’s mouth, a look of surprise replacing the shock on Even’s face. “You’re religious?”
Isak shrugs. “Pagan. Mum brought me up with the Old Gods.”
“So like Thor and stuff?” When Isak shoots Even an unimpressed look, Even just laughs harder. “Bet you get that one a lot.”
Isak rolls his eyes. “You’d be surprised.”
“About how much you get it? Or about how much you don’t?”
“Not many people know about my religion. It’s not like I’m ashamed of it, it just…”
“Brings up too many questions that you don’t really want to answer. It’s okay. I get it. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Thanks.” Isak rubs the back of his neck, the original surprise fading and being replaced with awkwardness. The silence around them is almost deafening, clawing at his skin in a desperate attempt to be filled.“Uh, what are you doing out here?”
Even grins. “It’s not obvious?”
“Well, I can see all the camera shit.” Isak rolls his eyes. “What are you doing with it?”
“Another movie project. For media.”
“Yeah? Is it the same one I saw you doing out the front of Bakka last week?” Isak wants to hit himself the moment the words come out of his mouth, because Even knows he goes to Nissen, and what the fuck would a Nissen boy be doing walking in front of Bakka.
“You’ve seen us?”
“Bakka’s really close to where I live. I go to the coffee shop near you guys a lot to study.”
Isak doesn’t like coffee. He can tolerate tea if he’s desperate for a caffeine fix, but mostly he drinks Diet Coke and Red Bull if he needs a caffeine hit. Before about two weeks ago he had never been there, but Eskild needed a coffee and was on a “business” call, which is Eskild-speak for planning a hookup, so Isak was sent instead with the bribe of not having to come grocery shopping for the next two weeks.
He continued to frequent the coffee shop in the hopes that Even would notice him coming out of it. He never did.
“Oh cool. And nah, that one ended Friday. We’ve got a term project that is like a short film a fortnight. I mean not really a short film. It’s like a scene that tells a whole story, and all the little scenes have to be on the same theme. And yeah, we have three more to go, which is kind of insane.”
“Holy shit that’s a lot.”
“Yeah, third year media is intense.”
The conversation is pretty stock standard getting to know you conversation, and Isak wants to keep it going for as long as he can, even if he is standing in fucking moss pants and a fucking moss cape. The fact that this is the longest conversation he has had with Even ever combined with the fact that it’s happening on the worst day of the year, the Summer fucking Solstice, means that that something most definitely is about to come and interrupt them.
“Isak?” And that didn’t take long at all. He can hear his mum calling him, and if she catches him out here with a stranger halfway through the Summer Solstice he’s going to end up being the sacrifice on the pyre instead of the fruits.
“Hey, uh, I gotta run, but–” Isak trails off, not knowing what exactly he’s asking.
Even nods, smiling. “I’ll keep my filming way away from whatever you’re doing, even if I am dead curious to see.”
Isak smiles at him. “Thank you.”
He’s almost back in view of his mother and the rest of the Mages when Even calls to him again. “Hey, are you going to Adam’s party next weekend?”
“Yeah I think so,” Isak shrugs, turning back around. “He’s friends with one of my friends.”
Even smiles, looking back “Maybe I’ll uh, see you there?”
“Yeah. That would be cool.”
“Bye.”
Every time his path crosses his mother’s during the ritual she delivers a fast and furious smack to the back of his head. His magic nearly isn’t as strong as it should be, especially for tonight, which everyone can feel and which is having a negative effect on the whole spell, but Isak can’t even bring himself to care.
The nervous butterflies were a much stronger feeling than his magic anyway, his whole body alight with feeling. Even had invited him somewhere. Kind of. Inadvertently. Maybe. Maybe Jonas’ whole flirting idea had a bit of substance to it. Maybe.
4.
For some reason, there are non alcoholic beers in the fridge at Adam’s place. Isak has never seen a non alcoholic beer at a teenage party before, but he isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s poured one into a plastic cup and has now been nursing it for the forty minutes that he’s been here, thankful that to everyone who is looking in that it looks like he’s drinking and having fun with the rest of them.
Alcohol has never reacted well with his magic anyway. It makes him more volatile, more likely to grow flowers on someone if they accidentally brush against him or something.
Before he was seventeen, he could get drunk just fine. Now that he’s of age, his power has increased tenfold, and because of that getting drunk isn’t an option anymore. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t fucking hate being sober at parties.
Any other night he might have been able to sit this one out. He can’t when it’s a Nissen party, because according to Magnus “it doesn’t do well for their social standing if they miss a Nissen party, which can adversely affect their ability to pull chicks.” All that comment got was a round of mocking for Magnus knowing the word adversely and then being able to accurately apply it in a sentence.
But for this party, he was the one that put the pressure on his friends to go. Even had invited him. He wanted to see Even, didn’t want to disappoint him if he wanted Isak here. But forty minutes had gone past, and no sign of Even.
Jonas had pulled, as had Mahdi. Magnus was nowhere to be seen, which meant one of two things: that Vilde had come and they were busy doing whatever they did somewhere where Isak didn’t have to see it, or he was throwing up behind a tree in Odin’s back garden. Isak hadn’t seen any of the other girls here tonight, so it was almost definitely the second option.
All of those factors also meant something, and that was that it was time for Isak to make a hasty retreat to the kitchen. The kitchen was quieter, and there was more chance he could have a genuine conversation with a sober person.
He pushes his way through the crowd of people, using his back to push the slightly ajar door open and shoulder his way into the kitchen. It’s a mistake, because he runs into someone almost immediately, spilling the beer all over them. “Oh my god I am so– Even?”
Even, instead of looking angry or upset or any of the regular emotions Isak expects him to be feeling now that someone has spilt a drink all over him, is grinning widely. “Isak! I didn’t think you’d come?”
“I could say the same about you. I haven’t seen you all night.”
Even rolls his eyes. “I’ve been dealing with the consequences of a friend who doesn’t know their limits and wasn’t able to make it past pre-drinks. I’ve just had to put them to bed so they don’t completely ruin Adam’s house.”
“I have been there too many times to count,” Isak says, smiling ruefully as the memory of all the times Magnus has slept on the kollektivet couch while the rest of the boys successfully proceed to parties floats to the front of his mind. He pushes that out of his , instead remembering about what brought him to be in that situation. “Can I uh, help you clean yourself up?”
“I wouldn’t mind some company. Come on,” Even replies, tilting his head in the direction of the stairs, where there is a NO ENTRY sign firmly plastered on the wall behind it, with a rope barring entrance. Even just steps over it.
“Are we allowed to go up here?” Isak frowns.
“Course. Adam’s one of my closest friends; I basically live here. I’ll just steal a new top from him and we will be good as new.” Even grins back down to Isak from his position halfway up the stairs, offering a hand out to Isak.
The nerves in his stomach immediately fly all over his body and under the surface of his skin, mingling so closely with his magic that he is unable to tell which feeling is which. Even doesn’t seem to have any such hesitation, because he immediately tangles their fingers together, guiding Isak through the hallway and depositing him sitting on the side of a bathtub, with a wait right here as Even goes to get a shirt.
When Even gets back, the shirt is already changed and the wet one is in his hand. Privately, Isak laments the fact that he doesn’t get to see Even shirtless.
“What are you gonna do now?” Isak asks, gripping the sides of the bathtub so he doesn’t fall backwards into it.
Even’s brow furrows as he turns to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, why are we still in the bathroom? You’ve changed your shirt, don’t you want to rejoin the party?”
Even’s face contorts to shoot Isak a look that clearly says are you stupid Isak. “Rule number one of stained clothes Isak. You have to wash the liquid out as soon as possible so that the stain doesn’t become permanent.”
“So you’re going to wash it out in a bathroom sink?”
“Someone’s making out on top of the washing machine.”
“Ah.”
Even turns on the tap, and when Isak notices which one, he tuts. Even looks over at him again. “What?”
Isak relishes in the moments where he gets to shoot Even the same are you stupid look that Even just shot him. “Rule number two of stained clothes Even. You should always wash with cold water first?”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Hot water can set protein based stains.”
“Wow, science genius,” Even mocks, still scrubbing at the shirt with his hands. Isak wonders if he’ll ever be able to turn his eyes away from how transfixing Even’s hands look when he does that.
“I’ll have you know I’m pulling a six in biology.”
“Looks like you just proved my point.” Even wrings the shirt out over the sink a few times before gesturing for Isak to shuffle down, holding the shirt up and shaking it out. The beer stain, unfortunately, is still there, stark against the white of the shirt.
“Fuck. I kinda liked this shirt.”
Isak’s stomach sinks with guilt. “I’m really sorry Even.”
“No no, seriously it’s fine.”
“Maybe keep trying for a little longer?” Isak phrases like it’s a question, even lilting his voice on the end, but it’s not. He wants Even to put that shirt back in the water, so that he can whisper a quiet spell under his breath to get the stain out, the same spell he learnt through necessity when he was fourteen.
Even grins. “Is that your way of keeping me all to yourself for a little while longer?”
“Actually it’s my superior biology intellect telling you that you should keep trying.” Isak wants to say he imagined the flash of disappointment that rushed over Even’s face the moment that Isak finished speaking, but something in his gut is telling him that he didn’t.
“Alright genius, whatever you say.”
Casting nonverbal spells is a lot harder than just saying the magic words. Saying words are an unconscious way of getting your brain to focus on channeling your magic just the right way to do just the right thing, and without them it is much harder.
Isak is sitting a meter away from Even on the rim of a porcelain bathtub, so there is no way that he can say confusión limpa and not get caught for it. He can’t even shut his eyes without it looking weird, and the nervous butterflies that are all mixed up with his magic don’t help either.
But he knows that he at least did something right when Even lifts up the shirt a few minutes later, completely sans stain. “Holy shit biology genius. You really are a biology genius.”
“I can’t believe you doubted me in the first place,” Isak retorts, smiling.
“I’ll go hang it up in Adam’s room then we can go back downstairs and join the party, yeah?”
“Sure you don’t want to keep me all to yourself for a little longer?” Isak says, echoing the words that Even said before. He feels giddy now, a little drunk on the power that he just emitted. A little too drunk for the level of power he just emitted, but he pushes that suspicious thought aside in favour of looking at the way Even’s eyes darken.
“I would, but I’d also like to take the opportunity to dance with you, and maybe get your number?”
Isak smiles. “Both of those things can be arranged.”
Parties are usually messy affairs, with empty beer bottles and streamers and decorations always strewn everywhere. When Isak and Even get downstairs, even though the party is still in full swing, there is none of that usual mess to be seen.
Adam grins at them when they both come down, his eyes wide with surprise. “Bro,” he says, clasping Even on the arm. “You will never guess what just happened.”
“What?”
“All the mess down here just fucking cleaned itself up dude.”
Isak’s entire body immediately runs cold. It explains why he suddenly felt giddy after the magic use, because instead of cleaning a single stain from one dirty t-shirt, he cleaned a whole fucking house.
Even shoots a look at Isak, his eyes furrowing slightly, before looking back at Adam. “Adam, dude, I think you’re a little too drunk. Place still looks a tip to me.”
“But all the beer bottles–”
“Let’s get you a glass of water so you can sober up ey?” Even says, untangling his and Isak’s hands so that he can guide Adam back to the kitchen. “I’ll catch up to you later yeah?”
“I might get going actually. But text me. So we can meet up.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
The night air is so much cooler than the hot atmosphere of the house, and Isak knows he’s abandoning his friends by just walking off into the night like this, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.
He’s having two startling thoughts right now. One: he is a lot more powerful than he thinks he is, if he can make a clean mess spell clean a whole fucking house. Or two: Even makes him more powerful. Isak doesn’t know which one is worse.
3.
Incoming call: Even <3
“Hello?”
“Are you free now?” Even’s flustered voice comes over the phone, making Isak sit up a little straighter.
Isak most definitely is not free right now, because he’s sitting with one of Eskild’s feet in his lap, one bottle of red nail polish on the side counter and the stupid flimsy brush in one of his hands. The bribe for this favour was a week off of dishes. “I can be for you? Why?”
Eskild perks up, hissing a who is it before Isak clamps his hand over his mouth. “We need someone to play an extra part in one of our films, and I know you live super close to Bakka.”
“Even,” Isak sighs.
“Baby, I wouldn’t be asking you if we weren’t desperate. Please.” And there is no way that Isak can say no to that, which is how he finds himself standing in the Bakka courtyard, only slightly shitty that he’s here. Eskild had called to him as he was leaving that he would only get half a week of dishes because he only completed one foot, which only added to Isak’s general level of discomfort.
Him and Even have been dating for two months now. It’s been two months of weird bliss for Isak, two months where he has been visibly happy enough for his friends to start ribbing him about it. Two months.
He really likes the boyfriend label.
“So,” Mikael says, coming over and shoving papers in Isak’s face. “You’ll be playing a fairy godmother.”
“Sorry what?”
“A fairy godmother.”
That panics Isak more than he would like to admit, because that role is absolutely too close to comfort for him. It is actually possible to be a fairy godmother, it’s a whole career path with a university to graduate from and a whole bunch of rules, but it’s definitely not something he is interested in doing, and playing a role like this, even for a few hours, makes him quadruple as anxious that he is going to slip up and do a bit of magic just because that’s what the script calls for.
The first excuse that comes to mind is flimsy, and he already knows that it’s stupid before he even says it, but he’s grasping at straws so hard that it just comes out anyway. “I’m a boy?”
That is the wrong excuse to pull out with Mikael, who just shoots him a dirty look. “Come on Isak. Please don’t tell me you subscribe to the whole gender binary thing.”
“No uh– just forget it.” Isak flicks through a few pages, skimming his lines in their brightly highlighted yellow glory. “Who wrote the script?”
“Even mostly took the lead on this one. Give it a read through and we’ll call you over in a second to kind of walk through the blocking with you, okay?”
“Cool.”
Finding out Even wrote the script, well, that turns his panic into stone cold terror. There is now a third thought to the two thoughts that Isak had the night that he left the party. What if Even knows about his magic?
There is only one isolated incident that he can use to base an assumption of magic off of, which is that night at the party, and he has seen Isak in the stupid moss pants, but surely rational people like Even wouldn’t immediately jump to the conclusion of Isak has magic, would they? Not if magic isn’t something that they are usually exposed to in their everyday life.
The script isn’t very magical at all though, he finds out as he reads through it. He’s more of an advisor than a fairy godmother, with the name just being a title that one of the other characters assigns him.
That’s enough for him to breathe a sigh of relief, and when Mikael comes over again to grab him to start, he’s not feeling too bad.
He’s feeling worse. He’s feeling a lot worse.
He’s drinking (or pretending to drink a coffee) in the cafe across the road from Bakka, his whole body shaking.
The film went fine. It was just the fact that everything else didn’t, because his second thought was right. Even was a conductor for him, amplified his magic until he barely had a reign over it, which ended up with three sparking cameras, a microphone that selectively picked up people and not others no matter where it was positioned and a script that’s lines just kept changing.
“That was the craziest day I have ever had, holy shit,” Even says, sipping on the hot chocolate that Isak wishes he had.
“I know,” Isak replies, his voice a touch too distracted, enough that Even picks up on it.
“What?”
The feeling is back again. The same one he had the first time he had a proper conversation with Even, the one where he told him that paganism was his religion and didn’t even mention his mother’s photography excuse. He wants to tell Even the truth.
“I can explain it.”
“What?”
“What happened today.”
Even’s eyes widen. “Can you actually?”
“I can.”
Isak opens his mouth to begin talking, the whole magic explanation bubbling at the back of his throat but is interrupted by Even checking his phone, face growing increasingly concerned. “Do you think your explanation can wait for a few days?”
The bubbling in his throat fades instantly. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Mum really urgently needs me for something. She didn’t say what, but I mean if she’s asking… I’m gotta go, I’m really sorry uh–”
Isak rests a hand on Even’s arm, trying to make his face look as reassuring as possible.“It’s okay Even. This can wait.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later okay?”
“Okay.”
Isak feels sick at how relieved he feels to get out of that explanation, because as much as he wants to tell Even the biggest secret in his life, this is bigger than anything, and he wants to keep this relationship for as long as he can. Telling him this will change the way that Even views him, and he’s so scared.
Isak bins the coffee on the way out, shooting Eskild a quick text to ask if he’s home and up to do Isak’s nails next. He needs to talk about this urgently, to someone who understands.
2.
The first time he learns that Even has bipolar II disorder is three weeks after the film incident. Those three weeks consisted of total radio silence, where Isak was left in limbo about the state of his relationship and whether he still has a boyfriend, considering the last time he met up with said boyfriend he bailed on him for his mother.
Mikael was the one to tell him. Two days ago, standing on the front porch of kollektivet he found out about it all, about how Even’s low came on so suddenly and without a high, and that he is really really sorry about everything and that of course he still has a boyfriend, if he wants one of course.
It’s almost 7 pm at night when Isak gets a text from Even asking if he can come over. Usually the journey from Isak’s house to Even’s takes 25 minutes. Isak makes it in 15.
“He’s in his room,” Even’s mum says to him when she opens the door. “It’s good for him to have visitors when he’s like this. It’s a good sign he’s on the improve.”
“It’s good to meet you,” Isak says, smiling at her.
“It’s good to meet you too Isak. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”
There is a single yellow lamp on in Even’s room that Isak can see when he pushes the door open. Even is just a lump on one side of the bed, swaddled in his duvet like a burrito. Isak can feel something lift off of his shoulders the moment his eyes lock onto Even’s, and he gently clambours onto the other side of the bed, lying so that they are facing each other.
“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of Even’s mouth. They’re a lot smaller than how Even usually speaks, and it gives Isak a bit of a shock, even though he tries his best not to let Even see that.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Yes I do. I was a bad boyfriend. I just left you hanging for three weeks.”
“You needed to take care of yourself, and you had to do that on your own for a while. That’s okay.”
Even sighs, and Isak can tell that he doesn’t believe what Isak is saying, but he doesn’t have the energy to push it either. Even doesn’t say anything for a really long time.
He’s never felt more out of his depth than he does here and now. Should he be filling the silence with mindless chatter, or is Isak being here all he needs? Should Isak wait for Even to be better to ask the burning questions that he wants to ask or can he ask them now?
“I was supposed to go stargazing with my friends tonight.”
“Hm?” Isak murmurs, Even’s quiet words drawing him out of his own head and back to the moment.
“Stargazing. It’s a blood moon tonight, and we were all going out to see it.”
Isak looks up at Even, reaching a hand up to brush a piece of hair out of his face. “Did you want to see it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still want to?”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes.”
“I wish I could.” There is a tiredness in his voice that Isak could trace all the way down to his bones, clinging to each cell and keeping him rooted to his bed.
But it’s easy enough, the spell to make something transparent, and laying right next to him is the best conductor Isak has ever met. Even has an apartment on the top floor and the blood moon will be right above them. It’s not rocket science.
“You can,” Isak breathes. “Look up.”
The duvet obscures a little bit of Even’s face, but Isak can still feel the way his whole body stills. The view is beautiful, the stars a little enhanced from his magic, shining a little brighter just for them. The moon is even more stunning, the red standing out against everything else.
He turns his face back to face Isak, a look of pure wonder on his face. “How?”
Isak smiles softly. “I’m magic, Even. That’s what I wanted to tell you at the cafe. The reason why all the film equipment kept fucking up and the script kept changing and all that. I’m magic and you make me so nervous that sometimes it just goes insane.”
Even leans forward then, to bury his head in Isak’s chest. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“My mum didn’t really text me. I just– I knew you were about to tell me something important, and I didn’t know if I was ready to hear it.”
Isak frowns. “Why?”
“Because if you told me something important, then I would have to tell you something important back.” It’s irrational reasoning, but Isak knows that it’s the same rationale he had, and the reason why he felt so relieved that he didn’t have to say anything to Even at that moment.
“Your bipolar?”
Even nods. “I didn’t want you to look at me any differently.”
Isak sighs, his hand wandering through the messy sheets in search of Even’s hand. “I’m not going to, Even. I’m going to support you, the same way that you’re not going to look at me any differently because I have magic. And I know you won’t look at me any differently because I love you and I know you love me, so you need to trust in that.”
“Okay.” A pause. “We’ve got to talk about this more,” Even says, even though his voice gives away clear as day that he doesn’t want to right now.
“I know, but let’s look at the blood moon first, okay? I can’t hold this transparency spell forever, you know.”
Even shuffles himself around then so that his face isn’t buried in Isak’s chest anymore, but instead so that he can look up at the night sky, all from the comfort of his own room. Isak can’t tear his eyes away from Even, just watching as his face softens with awe.
“Thank you,” Even whispers, his voice thick with emotion. Isak just presses another kiss in Even’s hair, shifting himself around so that they can both stare up at the night sky, satisfied with just being in each other’s company.
1.
Isak fucking hates the Summer Solstice. More than anything. Even though it’s the time of the year when he feels closest to his magic, where the pressure that constantly thrums just underneath the surface of his skin feels the strongest, he still absolutely hates it.
But this year is different.
He’s still in his fucking moss pants, with the moss cape and everything, but there is a boy who loves him standing behind him in a hoodie and jeans, a golden sash over his chest.
“This makes me feel like I’m in a game of tag. Or like school football when they divided you up into sashes and shirts,” Even says, looking down at his chest and fiddling with the ribbon, which wasn’t so much an actual piece of cloth as it was a piece of intent formed by Isak’s magic to mark Even as his beloved. It wasn’t even something that Isak did intentionally. Just a nice gesture by his magic. A nice possessive gesture.
“Can you stop fucking complaining,” Isak snaps back, moving into Even’s space and running his hands down the side of Even’s hoodie to brush off some of the stray leaves that were sticking to it. “You’re not the one in fucking moss pants.”
“But you look cute in your moss pants,” Even says, fluttering his eyes.
“Fuck off.”
Even deflates a little at the harshness of Isak’s tone, which immediately makes him feel guilty. “You may have warned me about how snappy you get today, but I really couldn’t have expected this.”
“Sorry. This is just… a lot.”
Even smiles, tangling his hands up behind Isak’s head and bringing him in closer, so that their heads are resting together gently. “Hey, no apologies. You’re okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Are we gonna stop repeating okay?” Isak laughs.
“Okay.”
“That doesn’t even make sense, loser.”
“Okay.”
There isn’t much else that Isak can do to shut Even up other than to kiss him, which really isn’t a chore even though right now he’s pretending it is. It also helps to calm the nerves that he is feeling about what he is about to do.
It takes Isak’s mother calling for them to break them apart. “Are you boys ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Here’s the thing about Even. He’s a conductor, working exactly on the same frequency as Isak’s magic, enhancing it to make it so much more powerful than it already is. The nervousness that Isak felt around Even the first few times that he met him only made his magic erratic, but now that all Isak feels is love, it makes his magic the easiest thing in the word to control.
Tonight, Even is standing in the middle of the circle. He’s the sacrifice this year, instead of the fruits. With him standing there, Isak will supercede the collective power of all of the Mages in his mother’s circle. Tonight, he will do the Summer Solstice ritual alone.
Before he begins however, and solely just because he can, he walks up to where Even is standing and presses a firm kiss to his lips, a reminder to them both that they are in this together. Behind them, someone lights the fire to surround them. Isak swears that he can feel it crackle underneath his skin.