Work Text:
They’ve been in Trondheim for half a year now. But for Christmas, they’re coming home.
*
Isak finishes his last December exam on the 20th. By that afternoon, they’re on the train back to Oslo.
It’s the first exam he’s done in university. He’s been nervous about it, which Even has known and been so damn sweet about. Isak feels a little exhausted about it, in that way that catches up to you after you’re finally able to catch a break. But he’s happy, too. It went well.
It’s not their first time on this train. They’ve got a routine now.
At first, they sit down. Then Even goes to buy them coffee and tea from the vending machine in the train hallway, while Isak pulls out the snacks that they bought for the trip. When Even comes back with the drinks, and has sat down again, Isak leans against him and reaches out to hook their fingers together. And Even smiles.
“You happy?”
“Mm,” Isak says. The smile widens.
“You know, I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah? For not being stupid?”
“Exactly,” Even says.
“Thanks. Good to know.”
They smile together. Even squuezes his hand.
“But really, though,” he says. The most sincere thing.
Before, Isak knows he’d have rejected it. Why should someone be proud of him for doing what was required? But this year things have been harder than before. It’s uni. And besides, it’s not just that. They’ve both had a harder time adjusting to life in Trondheim than Isak thought they would. So now, when Even looks at him, Isak smiles back.
“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”
Even smiles again. When Isak lifts his chin for a kiss, Isak gives it to him.
If Isak is honest, one of the reasons he wanted to move to Trondheim was to escape all the shit they’re travelling back to. Conflicting family obligations and all of his life being torn up, because Lea is back, and his dad wants them to be close again. Yes, he loved the course, but he also liked the idea of packing up and starting over somewhere new. Probably, they both did. The thing about Oslo is that it’s riddled with past.
At around seven, when they’re a couple of hours away from Oslo still, Even’s mom calls. They’ve been listening to music together, but now Isak lifts himself off Even’s shoulder to give him room to talk.
“Hey, Mom. Mm-hm. No, I think there’s a couple of hours left to go still.” His and Isak’s fingers are still hooked together, and as he listens, he plays with Isak’s, absentmindedly. “Yeah, nine seems fitting.”
Isak nods to agree.
“Yeah, it’s okay. We were listening to music. I’ve been working a little bit.” Another pause. “On that logo thing I told you about. Remember?”
Isak has tried this before, and he knows what’s about to happen. It’s not a new thing; When they lived in Oslo, Even would have long phone conversations with his mom too, but since they’ve moved away, they’ve increased in length. Not that that’s surprising. When they lived in Oslo, Even saw both of his parents about once a week. That’s over now.
Knowing that Even will be distracted for a while, Isak pulls out his own phone and takes a picture of him, before going into messenger and texting it to Mikael, Eskild and the boys. Comment underneath: Two hours left to go.
They’ll be staying with Even’s parents, but in two days it’s a Saturday and the twenty-second, and they’ll be going to a party with all of their friends. It’s been one of the things that’s kept Isak going through these last few weeks. He misses them.
Eskild sends him back a text with a bunch of exclamation marks. The boys write that they’re all excited to see them. Mikael writes a question:
His mom?
Yes.
Oh boy. Hope you’ve got stuff to help you entertain yourself.
Isak chuckles quietly, and shows the text to Even, who laughs too. Then stages a flipping off, which Isak takes another picture of and sends to Mikael.
Sore spot, he writes.
Clearly. Excited to see you though!
Isak sends him back a heart.
At the train station, Even’s parents are waiting for them by their car. Even is holding Isak’s hand, but when he sees his parents, he lets it go. Grins and hugs his mom first.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Isak smiles at them and says hello to Even’s dad.
“Mamma’s boy,” his dad says. Isak chuckles.
“Yeah.”
When they shift, Even’s mom hugs him too, hand to the back of his head like she’s missed him as well. It’s the third Christmas he’s spending partly with them, and about the billionth time he’s seen them, so maybe she has. At this point they feel like his family too.
Back at the house, everything is decorated for Christmas.
There’s a tree. Nice lights. Little red Christmas decorations all around. Isak smiles at it. It’s true that they’ve tried decorating their Trondheim flat too, but they’re students without a lot of money and young people without a lot of old decorations, so for them it’s been a little tree and fairy-lights. This is the next level.
“You’ve gone all out,” Even says.
“Like always.”
“Hm.”
“We saved some dinner for you,” Even’s dad says. “Let me put your bags in your room.”
“And you can come with me to the kitchen.”
They do. Isak brushes his fingers agains Even's as they walk with his mom to the kitchen. Once upon a time he would have felt a little nervous, but now this house just feels like a second home. She smiles at him.
“I like the beard-scruff by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“So do I.” Even is always touching him, and he is now too. Arm around his shoulders. Kiss on his cheek. “It’s hot.”
Isak sighs. Even’s mom laughs.
“Well, that’s not quite what I meant. But nice.”
Isak looks at Even, who grins at him.
“What?”
“You love pushing boundaries.”
Even laughs.
It’s late that night, so they don’t have time to do a lot. Instead they eat the food that Even’s mom puts out of them, and sit at the dining table, chatting for a little while. In the evening Even makes them tea, going into his parents’ cupboards like the place still belongs to him, and then they sit on the couch, talking a little bit more. At around eleven they go to bed, and Isak’s mom calls.
He’s lying on the bed in Even’s room – the one that used to belong in their Oslo flat, because visiting together in a bunk bed was not ideal – when she calls. Even is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. Isak picks up.
“Hey, Mom,” he says.
“Hey. Are you back?”
“Mm-hm. We arrived a few hours ago. Just had dinner with Even’s parents.”
“Was the trip okay?”
“Yeah.”
“And the exam?”
“That too."
It’s strange this whole thing. It’s new, how often they talk, born from Trondheim and being so far away, but maybe also born because he’s old enough for this to be normal now. Everyone at uni lives away from home, or at least almost everyone. It’s common, now, that parents are people who you don’t completely rely on, but who you visit sometimes, and who you find slightly amusing in a fond sort of way, like you do with a grandparent that you feel like taking care of. It’s common now, and that means that things have changed. But it’s strange too. To reconcile how well they get along now, with how big a part she was of him being sad as a teenager.
“But Mom,” he says, because it’s not her fault, and that’s what made it easy even if it is a little strange. “What was the plan again? We’re coming on the twenty-third and then staying the night?”
“Yeah. That’s what we said anyway. Lea and your dad are coming around four on the twenty-fourth.”
Isak sighs.
“Hey. Don’t be mad at her, huh?”
“You know, I think I’ll feel what I want to.”
She sighs, but it’s overbearing, he knows. It’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation.
“Right, right,” she says. “Even is still coming?”
“Yeah.” In that moment, he walks back in. Barefoot, in boxers and a t-shirt. Isak smiles at him. “Of course.”
“Okay.”
“Your mom?” Even mouths. Isak nods. “Say hi.”
“Even just walked in,” he says, allowing Even to make his way onto his stomach. Digging his fingers into his hair. “He said to say hi.”
“Say hi back.”
“Hi back,” Isak says. Even smiles. “Anyway.”
“It’s late, I know. But I’ll see you on the twenty-third?”
“Yes,” he says. “You will. Love you, Mamma.”
He can feel her smile.
“Yeah, sweetheart. I love you too.”
After hanging up, he looks down at Even, who’s smiling up at him. Reaches down to brush the hair out of his face.
He feels a lot of conflicting things. Happy to be back with the people he loves. Relief at no longer missing them. Excited to see his friends soon. Worried about everything it’s digging up. Mindful of the fact that Even is shining, like being around his parents again was exactly what he needed. He meets Even’s eyes.
“So, we’re back,” Even says, like he understands it all. Isak nods.
“Yeah. So we’re back,” he says.
*
In the morning he wakes up to the sound of Even and his parents talking from the living room.
He’s alone in the bed, but when he checks his phone, that’s not a surprise. It’s past ten, and lately Even has gotten used to getting up early, to work or simply to keep to a routine. Isak’s been stressed for weeks though, so he thinks it’s okay if he needs a little sleeping in.
It’s been snowing in Oslo these last few days, and it seems it’s snowed that night too. There are fresh piles at the bottom of the window where he and Even sat on what they’re now calling their first semi-date. Looking at it, Isak smiles. It’s nice with the memories.
He stays in the bed for a little while, replying to some texts from the boys and letting himself just listen to the sound of life going on outside. He can’t quite make out what’s being said; only that it’s Even’s dad saying it, and that it’s making Even laugh. There are other sounds too, which makes Isak think that the TV is on. It’s nice to wake up to. So entrenched in family.
When he enters the living room, it turns out he was right. The TV is turned on to a Christmas Netflix movie that no-one is watching. Even’s dad is sitting at the dinner table, reading the newspaper in his bathrobe, and Even is sitting at the table too, working on his tablet. When he turns around to see Isak coming in, he smiles.
“Return of the prodigal boyfriend.”
“I must have been exhausted.”
“Yeah, it seemed that way.”
Even reaches out for him and Isak goes, finding a spot besides his chair to stand and hold onto to him. Even takes his hand and kisses the back of it.
“You’re working?” Isak asks.
“Yeah, I got the edits. You hungry?”
“Mm.”
Even tugs him closer.
“Then let’s fix that.”
“Let’s.”
“Hi, by the way.”
Isak smiles. Leans down, because Even is tugging him that way, and kisses Even back when Even kisses him. Smiles into it.
“Hi.”
In the kitchen, Even pops some toast in the toaster and puts the kettle over to make him some coffee. Then he comes over to where Isak is sitting on the kitchen counter and stands in-between his legs. When he leans his cheek on Isak’s chest, Isak leans his chin to the top of his head.
“Do you want to go out later?" Even asks. "Visit a Christmas market or something?”
“Do you have time?”
“Mm-hm. Always have time for you.”
Isak smiles.
“Okay.”
Even kisses him.
Isak always felt like Even was his future, but now it feels like they’re really doing it. Like the future is around them already, and it’s just the two of them against the world together. In Trondheim. Here. In kitchens everywhere, taking time to be sweet to each other.
Isak kisses him back. Then pulls back to hold him in his arms again.
“I dreamt about you,” he says.
“Sexy dream?”
“No.”
“Hm. What a shame.”
Isak laughs.
“God. You really like to push your luck these days.”
Even laughs too.
“You like it.”
“Right.”
While they kiss again, the kettle finishes boiling and Isak’s toast pops out of the toaster. If he’s honest he could have fixed this all himself – it’s not like he hasn’t before, when Even’s been sick and Even’s parents have been at work – but it’s nice to let Even do it for him. Sweet. So he watches it as Even pours the coffee out for him.
“There we go,” he says. “One cup of coffee for the beautiful boy.”
“And you sure are a charmer.”
“You know it,” Even says. Isak smiles and leans in to kiss him again. Then groans.
"Do I have to let go?"
Even laughs.
"So needy." But he's holding him again. "Later we'll cuddle."
"You promise?" Even nods. "Okay."
Even really does work for an hour or so then. It’s new, this thing with him getting hired to be an illustrator, but if anyone is going to talk about proud, Isak thinks it should be him. That Even is making them a living partly by pursuing his art? That’s incredible to him. So he works, but then, around two in the afternoon, they put on their scarves and their coats and their boots and head outside.
It’s strange, being in these streets again. There are very few parts of Oslo left that Isak doesn’t have some sort of relationship to. This, the part of town that Jonas used to live in. This, the part of town that he lived in with Even. This, the part of town that him and Eva used to go for coffee in after school. And then, in the end, the part of the town where the Christmas market is.
Even buys them mulled wine and reaches out to hold his hand. He’s wearing a beanie and he’s just as sweet as he is beautiful. Isak stops them in their tracks and leans in to kiss him.
“What?” Even says.
“You had a mulled wine moustache above your lip.”
“Ah.” Even is smiling. He leans in to kiss Isak again. “So did you.”
The streets are beautiful this time of year. They walk around the market slowly, boots crinkling in the snow and lights reflecting in Even’s hair. The stalls have different things in them, and Even stops at a bunch of the ones that sell art. Isak stops with him.
He’s not intending to buy anything. Really, he’s already bought all the presents he needs, even for Lea and his dad, but at one of the stalls his eyes catch on a poster.
“Mm?”
Even has noticed him stopping. Is looking at him.
“No. Lea used to like that kind of thing,” he says. Nods towards the poster.
It shifts the mood. Even was holding his hand already, but before it was just fondness. Now it feels a little like its comfort too. Even after all these years and all the things Isak has seen Even through, he still has a hard time with naked vulnerability when it’s there because of him. So he squirms. But he doesn’t pull away. Even just smiles at him.
“It’s not that expensive,” he says.
“I already got her a gift.”
“So give her two. Or save the other one for yourself.”
He knows what Even’s really saying, even if it’s not out loud. That it’s worth it to try and reconnect. And Even knows what he’s saying without really saying it too. That it’s hard. But he’s right.
“It’s not that expensive.”
“No.” Even smiles and let’s go of his hand. “I’ll pay.”
“She’s my sister.”
“Yeah, you'll pay me back.”
Even goes on without waiting for his reply, but it’s okay. Isak stands back to watch him, fondly. He’s just making sure Isak won’t back out.
“There.” He hands the package over to Isak. “Done.”
Isak smiles. Looks at the package.
"Okay."
"Okay," Even says. When Isak looks up, he's smiling. This kind, patient thing.
"Okay," he repeats. And then they walk again.
*
Twenty-four hours later, they're at the kollektivet Christmas party with all of their friends.
Eskild saw them first. He was the one opening the door, and then he was the one who had his arms around Isak, holding him more than hugging him for the longest time. Even stood there, off to the side, waiting with a smile until Eskild let Isak go to hug him instead. Then came the rest of them.
Now Isak is sitting at the kollektivet dining table, using Even's left leg as a seat, as they cut up their own Christmas decorations. He's wearing his Christmas sweater and Even is too. Around them the lights twinkle. His arm has curled it's way around Even's shoulder, and Even is keeping him steady by holding onto his waist. There's barely enough room for them to work with the scissors between them, but they're in love. They make it work.
He's kind of failing at the job though.
"This is–"
He shows Even the honestly kind of atrocious Christmas heart he's made. Even laughs.
"Beautiful."
“Mm.”
"Can I see?” Mahdi asks. Isak shows it to the rest of the boys, who chuckle too.
“Well," Jonas says. "Now I think it might have been good that you didn’t want to be a surgeon after all.”
“Shut up,” Isak says. Jonas just laughs. “I’m good at other things.”
Magnus looks behind him for a moment, and then he suddenly laughs.
“What?” Isak says.
“Even’s face.”
Isak looks at Even, who’s wearing the kind of mischievous grin that’s always an addition to him teasing Isak. Isak shoves his shoulder.
“Ugh. You’re impossible," he says.
Even laughs.
“I didn’t even say anything.”
Isak turns back to the boys, sighing for dramatic effect. They’re all smiling, but Jonas seems particularly fond, looking at them, and maybe Isak feels the same too. There’s something very perfect about sitting here on even’s lap while the boys are teasing them. So he leans his head on top of Even’s.
“Stupid boy,” he says, but it’s soft now. Even chuckles out a quiet laugh. The way they’re sitting means that Isak feels it brushing over his neck. They look at each other.
“Hm? Am I?” Even says. Soft too. So Isak kisses him.
For a moment all is quiet. Then Magnus groans.
"Ugh. We've seen you for barely two hours, and already watched you make out."
Isak flips him off. But they all laugh again.
As the evening draws to a close, Isak meets Jonas outside for a smoke.
It’s not often he does it anymore. Even’s pretty much quit, and Isak doesn’t really need it or crave it, so it just feels natural. That’s not to say he can’t occasionally indulge though. Jonas lights it for him.
“I’ve missed you, man,” he says. Isak grins.
“So sappy.”
“Whatever. That’s what you get for leaving the only friend you’ve had since you were five.”
“Has it been that long?”
“Mm-hm. Almost fifteen years.”
Isak smiles again.
He misses Jonas too. Possibly, he misses Jonas more than he misses anyone else, or at least as much as he misses Eskild and the rest of the boys. If Mikael and Even have history, then so do the two of them. And maybe history is what Isak is trying to escape, but it’s damn well nice to experience too.
He hands Jonas the blunt. Jonas takes it. Then nudges his shoulder with his own.
“What are the Christmas plans anyway? You’re doing your family or just Even’s?”
Isak sighs.
“No, we’re doing mine too. At Mamma’s place. But Papa and Lea are coming too, on the twenty-fourth.”
“Right. And I’m sure you’re feeling all kinds of joy about that.”
Isak smiles.
It’s different with Jonas. Even understands, but only because he’s told him. With Jonas he doesn’t need words, because Jonas was there when they were all together, and Jonas was there with him when it all went to shit. He felt the betrayal too, or at least Isak thinks he did. He remembers, anyway, how angry Jonas seemed on his behalf when he told him. My dad is gone, and Lea is staying in Berlin. Yes, I told her. Yes, I begged her to come home.
He was sixteen. Sometimes he remembers that.
When you’re in it, you don’t quite know how young that is. But now he’s nineteen, looking at Even’s fifteen-year-old cousin and seeing exactly how young she is. Sometimes it makes him so sad for himself. Like past him is a person different enough from him that he can love him like he would love someone else.
Jonas is looking at him. He’s been quiet for a while. Now he shrugs.
“It’s just a day,” he says. “Or that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.”
Jonas nods.
“Okay,” he says. “Call me, though. Whatever you need.”
Isak smiles.
The one thing he remembers clearer than anything else from those months after his dad left, before he moved to the kollektivet basement and started pulling away, is Jonas being there. The one thing he remembers from being younger and going on nights out, is Jonas looking out for him. And the one thing he remembers from the week before they moved to Trondheim, is that Jonas was over almost every day.
“I will,” he says.
Jonas smiles too.
*
Then it’s the twenty-third, and they’re going to his mom’s house.
There’s a class thing too. Social differentiation. He’s trying to think about that. There are many, many reasons why Even’s family is better at decorating for Christmas and taking time off and buying nice presents and having the time and energy to cook nice food and bake nice things. Not all of them are personal failures of his own family. Sometimes it’s just the way things are.
This year it’s different though. When they enter her living room – no longer his childhood home – he’s surprised to see a tree.
“What’s this, Mom?” he says, into their hug.
“What do you mean? It’s a tree.”
“Well, yeah. It’s just been a while since you’ve had one of those.”
“And it’s been a while since we did anything on the twenty-fourth.”
It’s true. And it stings a little too. Isak moves away for a moment to let Even hug her too and uses the opportunity to gather himself. When he looks around, he sees that she’s got fairy lights too.
“And this,” he says.
“What are you so surprised about? It is December, isn’t it?”
“Okay, okay. It is.”
She shakes her head at him, the same way that Even’s mom shakes her head at him sometimes. So parental in the slightly amused exasperation of it. It all feels so new, and when his mom guides them to the kitchen, he hangs back a little, letting Even go in with her first. When he joins, Even reaches to squeeze his thigh under the table. Quiet comfort.
“I like this new place,” he says. Making conversation while Isak can’t.
“Yeah, me too. I was happy to get it.”
“Can I help you, by the way?”
“No, no. I got it all ready. Mulled wine for my boy. And his boy.”
Isak could cry. Instead he listens to Even’s laugh and smiles.
In the bed that night, he covers his face with his hands.
It’s new, this place. Smaller than the home he grew up in, with its three bedrooms and living room big enough for a family, but still big enough to have a spare room, which they’re in right now. It’s decorated for Christmas, with the kind of precise attention that Isak has always longed to get from his parents. She did this because he said he was coming home.
If he thinks too hard about it, Christmas starts to seem like the weirdest thing. Everyone’s always communicating quietly, sure, but at Christmas time it’s like the intensity rises. Especially if you live in a family moved by grief. This time of year Isak thinks the smallest things stand in for the biggest words, both for good and for bad. And right now he’s not sure which one this part is.
Even lies in the bed besides him, touching the back of his hands with his fingertips. Delicately.
“You know, I could do this for a long time. At some point I’m hoping you’ll let me see your face.”
Isak makes a stupid sound and turns so he’s buried himself in Even’s chest. Even holds onto him.
“Oh, baby,” he says. Palm up and down his back. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry. I’m making Christmas hard.”
“You’re not making it hard. It is hard.”
Despite himself, Isak smiles. And then he actually pulls away to show it to him.
“I don’t think that’s the general consensus.”
Even smiles too, looking both fond and kind of relieved. Reaches up to brush the hair out of Isak's face.
“Well, fuck the general consensus.”
Isak chuckles quietly.
For a while Even just keeps touching his hair. It's soothing, and Isak knows that that's the point. Marvels, privately, at the fact that Even knows exactly what to do.
“You want to talk about it?” Even asks then.
“Me? Talk about it?”
Even rolls his eyes. Isak smiles a little.
“Sometimes it’s good to talk, you know. Even if you don't like it that much.”
Isak sighs. But he's right.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” he says.
There are things he could say. That he doesn't how to deal with having this now. That he doesn't know how not to resent that he didn't as a child. That he feels monumentally guilty for running away from his life and his mom again, and that all these emotions make him feel kind of stupid. Because he thought he knew what he was doing. Because he didn't, not at all.
“I don’t know,” he repeats. “There’s all this bad, and then…”
He looks at the collar of Even’s shirt, where it circles around his neck, light grey against those freckles of his.
“I guess I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed everyone until we came back.”
He can’t quite look Even in the eye as he says it. Partly because it’s embarrassing to admit how emotionally stunted he still somehow is. Mostly because what he’s really saying is that maybe he’s beginning to second-guess their joined decision to move.
Even’s finger touches the bottom of his chin. Lifts it.
“Hey.”
Isak lets him move his face. Meets his eyes.
“Hm? What’s that thing we always say. Something about hours. Or seconds?”
Even's smiling.
“Or minutes?”
Isak smiles too.
“Oh.” Even pokes at his cheek. “There it is. Now, if I could remember what the thing about the minutes is.”
“Okay, okay,” Isak says, but he’s smiling still. “I get it. You don’t have to spell it out for me.”
“Really? Because I would.”
“And what would you say?”
“That I love you.”
He’s being sweet, but he’s being serious too, and Isak thinks he might be the very best person in the whole world. Of course, he always thinks so. But right now, it feels particularly true.
Eventually, he’s lying down on Even’s chest. And Even is touching his hair again.
“You know,” he says, into the dark between them, when they and everything else in the house is more than half asleep. Isak stirs.
“Mm?”
“That whole Bakka thing, it kind of taught me that sometimes, even if you fail, the world will be gracious with its second chances. Practically, for one, like with finishing school. Or personally, like where me and Mikael are now.”
Isak shifts a little to look up at him. When he does, he finds Even. Looking all fond.
“And sometimes it even brings you something wonderful.” Isak smiles. “That’s referring to you, just in case you can’t tell.”
Their eyes meet. Fondness.
“Anyway. We were going to sleep.”
“Even?”
Even looks down at him.
“Mm?” he says.
Shifting once again, Isak leans up and kisses him. Kisses him and kisses him and then, lies back down on his chest.
“Thank you.”
He means for this. But he also means for everything else. Even nods.
“Always.”
Isak's sleep is fretful that night. But it also is sleep.
*
In the afternoon on the twenty-fourth, Lea and his dad arrive.
Isak goes with Even to the hallway to let them in. His mom is still in the kitchen, preparing their dinner for them.
Behind the door, Lea stands like a ghost.
Well, not exactly like a ghost. She’s pale like one, and like the rest of their family is. Her hair is a big, dark mess, which she got from their mother. Their noses look the same.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.”
They’re quiet. It’s strange because it’s not like he hates her immediately. Mostly, he’s looking at her like a stranger he’s trying to meet again.
Even coughs. Isak startles back into the world.
“This is Even,” he says, using the script for normal introductions as the crutch he leans desperately against. Even reaches out to shake her hand. “My boyfriend.”
“Yes. I’ve heard about you. Papa says that Mamma loves you.”
Isak looks at his dad, who’s standing behind Lea, waiting dutifully. For once he’s not the one Isak feels weirdest about, like Lea’s presence as the least familiar family-member has upgraded him automatically. It strikes him, suddenly, that he looks more like his dad than his mom, and that Lea is the opposite.
Even smiles at her.
“Well, I am very lovable.”
She laughs a little. Isak’s dad smiles. Isak wants to turn around and crawl into him, and then he wants to stay there for the rest of his life. In the warmth of the arms of the boy who’s always on his side.
When he turns around to look at Even, Even winks at him. He’s saving this entire thing.
“Well,” Isak says. “Mamma’s in the kitchen.”
If it’s subtle at all, she gets it. After hanging up her coat, Lea moves from the hallway and into the house. Now it’s just them and his dad left.
Isak hugs him hello.
Honestly, it’s hard to stay in the resentment he used to feel. His dad’s encouraged him to see his mom, and is happy to hear about it every time he has. In the very beginning of his and Even’s relationship, when he heard about Even’s bipolar, he had some questions that made Isak want to cut off all contact once again, but since then he’s been open to him in a way that Isak feared he’d never have. He still offers them money, as if that will make up for all the neglect, but if Isak is honest it's a nice addition to their budget once in a while.
When they’ve let go, his dad hugs Even hello too. And then he asks him the same kind of questions he always does. How’s Trondheim? How’s work? How’s your family? Isak leaves them alone and goes to the kitchen instead.
Lea and his mom are talking. Isak steps up to his mothers side.
“Can I help, Mamma?”
“Well. If you insist.”
“I can help too.”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Isak says. It’s as petty as he’s ever been. His mom seems to realise. At least she touches the small of his back in a pointed way.
“Sure you can. You two can work on the salad.”
Isak tries not to sigh like a child and only halfway manages. It’s a little bit of a consolation to his ego that Lea looks the same.
They’re left alone. Work quietly, in tandem.
“So.” He never expected he’d be here, listening to her trying to figure out what to say. His big sister who used to look out for him. This girl who used to be his best friend. “How’s Trondheim?”
He almost rolls his eyes, but manages not to.
“Fine.”
“Okay.” More silence. “It’s serious with Even, huh? If you live together.”
“We’ve lived together for a year and a half.”
“Right. Well.” Another pause. “He’s cute.”
It warms Isak up a little. Only a little.
“Very James Dean.”
And then he smiles.
The thing is, they’ve always had fun. She’s talking to him like a sister would, and like she did back when he was fourteen, except back then she was teasing him about girls. He used to love her.
Maybe that’s the worst part. They were siblings and even when he didn’t trust his dad, he thought he could trust her. She was his hero, in a way. She was a symbol of things that were still safe, and maybe that’s why her failure to stay felt like the betrayal it did. Because it wasn’t just about her. It was about the symbolism of everything too.
“Don’t tell him that,” he says. An olive branch. “His ego will never deflate.”
She laughs a little.
“You know he’s alone in the living room with our parents right now?” she says.
“Do you think I should go save him?”
She smiles. Shrugs.
“Well, if I’m honest I imagine they like him more than us right now. He’s much less trouble.”
Isak smiles too.
“Hm,” he says. But before he can go on, his mom comes back in.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, and Lea smiles again.
“Nothing, Mamma. How’s Even?”
Isak laughs.
*
That afternoon they go to church.
He should be feeling weird about it, and maybe if he’s honest, he does a little bit. There are many families there with them, but if you counted he bets its much less than half who actually believe. Not that he does. It’s a strange thing, and maybe that actually helps. How normal Christmas church-going is.
At the pews, Even scoots in first, followed by Isak who wants to sit close to him. Lea follows. When they’re sitting she grabs the song-book in front of her seat, and hands it down to Even, across Isak’s chest.
“I bet you need this more than I do,” she says. Even takes it.
“Really?”
“Oh, I could sing these songs in my sleep.”
Even looks at Isak.
“You too?”
Isak nods. Even keeps looking, shifting his face as if to tell him that’s a surprise, and Isak shrugs. Smiles. It occurs to him only now exactly how many parts of his old family life Even isn’t privy to, only because Isak never speaks of them. Maybe that should change.
“It’s the same songs every Christmas.”
“Hm,” Even says. He looks back to the song-book, studying the front page, and Isak can tell he’s thinking of it. Saving the information, like Isak saves everything Even tells him. Like it matters.
He reaches out to take Even’s hand. It’s a thank you for being here and sorry for all the things you still don’t know. It’s a hey, I love you. It soothes me to know that you’re here for me.
Even squeezes his hand and smiles back.
*
When they’re back, they sit together on his mother’s couch while the lights twinkle beautiful Christmas soft. Him and Even have shared their presents already, but there’s still a bunch there, under the tree. They drink Christmas beer, trying it out. Isak is wearing a Christmas sweater and sits there, leaning his head on Even’s shoulder.
It’s cozy. And for a real moment Isak feels the Christmas warmth. The way everything feels soft and nice, and he’s able to look at his family and feel like he loves them. The way Even’s hair is messy from all the times he’s pulled his own Christmas sweater on and off, and the way there’s this beautiful, bright twinkle in his eyes.
When Lea opens her present she falls silent and watches it for a long, long time, looking like she might start to cry. Then she comes over and pulls him into a hug. Tight.
It always feels awful to hope, for him. Before Even he was used to having it all shut down, and there’s still remnants of that left in his muscle memory. It’s Christmas, though. And as Lea keeps holding him, palm to the back of his head, he lets himself hope that this is the start of something. Or at least the shift of it. That him and Lea could try to be siblings again.
When they pull back, she looks so vulnerable. And that makes him hope even more. Then she smiles.
“Compared to this,” she says. “My present is shit.”
Everyone’s been silent with them. But now they all laugh.
That night then, around nine, they head back to Even’s parents’ place. When they say goodbye in the hallway, his mom hugs Even. Then him.
“Thank you for coming,” she says. “Hm? Beautiful boy.”
Isak smiles.
“I love you.”
“Yeah. I love you too, Mom.”
His mom lets go of him and turns to Even instead. Then hugs him too.
“Thank you for inviting me,” he says.
“Oh, nonsense. You know you’re my boy’s family.”
Isak smiles even wider at that, and when he looks at Even he sees that he is too. When they’re outside on the cold December, finally relief, they turn to each other.
“Well,” Even says. “I guess I have to marry you now, or your mom will never forgive me.”
Isak laughs.
“How torturous.”
“Mm-hm.” Even is holding his hand. “Come on. Let’s get the two of us home.”
*
When they come back Even’s aunts on his dad’s side are still there, left-over from the small Christmas gathering they’ve held before the big one that’s happening in a few day’s time. For a while they stay with them, eating what is left of the night’s desert and listening to Even’s oldest aunt rambling mulled-wine-drunk things. It’s silly but it feels like a proper Christmas.
In the morning he wakes up on Even’s chest.
The world is full of that 25th of December feeling. The calm after the storm, but in the nice way. The wrapping paper left on the coffee table, looking so different in the morning light. The leftovers of Christmas food, which they’ll eat for lunch. The comfortable laziness, which will probably make them want to watch a bad movie later, with their duvets wrapped around their shoulders on the couch.
But that’s not yet. Right now Isak opens his eyes and finds Even breathing quietly, little huffs, telling him he’s still asleep. Outside there’s snow again, and this time there’s quiet in the house, like Even’s parents are still fast asleep too. For a moment all is calm.
A little later Even starts stirring awake.
Isak lies across from him, watching his face as he wakes up. When it seems it won’t startle him, he lifts his hand slowly, to card it through his hair. Even hums. His sleep-soft expression transforms itself into a smile.
“You’re up already.”
It’s barely more than a mumble. He’s still tired.
“Mm. You’re sweet when you sleep.”
Even smiles more, and Isak touches the corner of it with his thumb. Lets it travel up the bridge of his nose too and then, when Even opens his eyes, over the cheekbone under them, which crinkle with fondness.
“Stealing my line.”
“You can’t own a line. Not when it’s that generic.”
“Oh, I see” Even says. “I forgot for a moment that you changed your course to law.”
Isak just hums and pushes himself into Even’s arms. Even chuckles, sleep-hoarse and pliant and so wonderful, as he lifts an arm to hold him.
“Too tired to tease me back?” he asks.
“Too in love.”
“Ah.” He sounds so fond. And when Isak looks up, they both smile, like the affection is something they’re in on together. “Such a Christmas cliché.”
“Mm.” Isak rolls them over so he’s lying on top of him. “And then there’s the fact that you’re so hot this morning.”
Even laughs. And when he’s finished, they kiss.
*
Later, when they get up, Isak finds out he was right in his morning thoughts. The residue of Christmas is still left over everywhere.
That morning they do life quietly. Even’s dad makes them coffee, tea and toast, and then they sit, not at the dinner table, but on the L-shaped sectional couch, wearing their sleepiest clothes and watching a movie. Harry Potter. It’s a tradition.
Isak likes it a lot. How relaxed it is and how relaxed he feels, with Even’s arm around him the entire time. That both of Even’s parents are in their sweatpants and their robes, like Isak being around is not something that requires them to dress up. Like they’ve accepted him into their family just as much as Even has.
After the movie, Even’s parents go for a Christmas walk and him and Even stay in with the TV on. There’s a random Christmas show playing on NRK, and it’s not very good, but they both let it play anyway. It’s that kind of lazy day.
Even has been on his phone for a couple of minutes when he snorts. Then shows Isak the phone.
It’s a text from Mikael that did it. Even’s sent him a picture of Isak just now, hoodie drawn up around his head, blanket covering the rest of him, concentrated look at the TV as he eats one of Even’s mom’s homebaked cookies. Isak shakes his head.
“You and your fucking candid pictures,” he says, and Even laughs.
“You’re cute though.”
Underneath the picture, Mikael has replied. Christmas cryptid spotted. Isak snorts too.
“We have to kill him,” he says. “He knows too much about me now.”
“Don’t I, too?”
“Oh, yes. But you I can bribe with sex. I’m not sure Mikael would respond as well.”
“I mean I don’t think he thinks you’re unattractive.”
“No, of course he thinks I’m hot.” Even laughs again and Isak is smiling now, purely teasing him. “But I think there’d be some feelings of morality involved.”
“You’re not too hot for that?”
“Possibly.”
They’re grinning.
“I love you,” Even says.
“Well, yes. Like we just established, I’m attractive.”
And then they both laugh.
*
Really, it was meant to just be a family day. Quiet after and before the storm. But since they’ve texted Mikael, and he’s not doing anything, it seems fitting to invite him over - with Even’s parents’ phone-call-given blessing - and then it seems fitting to invite the other boys over too.
In the end, Even’s parents are preparing a leftover dinner for the two of them, Mikael, and all of Isak’s boys. They’re watching a movie. And Magnus is falling asleep on Isak’s shoulder.
A minute or so into it, Isak lifts his arm, from where it was trapped between him and the couch. And then he puts it around his shoulders instead.
“Aw,” Mahdi says. “You’ve missed him.”
“Shut up.”
The rest of them laugh.
To be honest, it’s not untrue. Isak still pretends, mostly in joke, that he doesn’t love the boys so much it kills him sometimes. But, whatever. With Magnus’s hair tickling his neck, he’s feeling it now.
This feels more like Christmas than anything else, and it has for the longest time. Back in kollektivet he felt this way too - The true feeling of Christmas came to him only when they celebrated together, Eskild’s too-strong mulled wine or Vilde’s kosegruppa Christmas parties. Linn’s incessant watching of Christmas movies, Noora’s love of soulful Christmas music, and later, Even’s avid attempts to make him feel okay about it all by teasing him and making him smile.
Just because his biological family still feels like a mess, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a perfect one. Maybe slightly wonky. But one he wouldn’t trade for anything else.
Later, as they eat around the dinner table, it feels like they’re all adopted Christmas kids, and Isak looks at Even, surrounded by his parents and less than half of their closest friends, thinking of what this must mean to him too. That’s what really does him in. That Even is shining so bright from having them around.
During dinner Mikael and Even get to talking about an old school project that Even still has around, somewhere on his laptop, so after they’ve finished eating, they go to his room to check it out. Isak stays with his own boys, who’s looking at him.
“They’ve really gotten close again,” Jonas says.
“Mm-hm.” He’s smiling as he says it, and Isak understands. That it’s coming from the same place he’s coming from. Interested in seeing Even happy again. "I think they miss each other."
"Mm," Jonas says.
"We miss him too," Magnus adds. He's always had this strange and sweet fascination with Even, so from him it's kind of funny, and Isak chuckles a little. Quietly. But Magnus is only half-joking, in that way he's perfect at. Sincerity always given with a smile. "And you."
That's when Isak's heart starts to ache.
"Mm," he says, because he thinks if he said anything else, he might hear his voice breaking. Magnus, however, just smiles. Like they know each other well enough now that he understands.
From the bedroom, there's a laugh.
Later again, he and Mikael meet in the kitchen. Alone.
They're just making tea for all of the boys, who are still in the living room, having graduated from movies to Fifa now. Isak watches Mikael work, getting the tea out of the right cupboard without having to check first, and is reminded of how long he's known Even. Of how close they are.
The very first time that Even told him the whole Mikael story, he thought he might have to fend off some jealousy if they ever became friends again. Now Mikael’s one of the only friends who’s been to their Trondheim flat, because Even had an episode and Mikael refused not to come, and Isak knows that jealousy has no room here. What him and Even have is far too big for that.
There’s something about grief that’s also gravity. There’s no way to tell what Even and Mikael’s friendship would have been like if everything between them hadn’t happened, because the fact of the matter is that it did. Mikael is a part of Even’s story of grief just as much as Isak is, and in a way that means that Isak feels bonded to him. They both know what it’s like to have seen him at his worst and to still love him.
When they arrived at that party on the twenty-second, Even hugged Mikael first. Isak has seen it happen, from nothing to this, and sometimes he thinks it’s a miracle. To take your trauma and make it into something new but beautiful. To stop running away and get this out of it.
Now he looks at Mikael and smiles.
"I don't even have to do anything. You know your way around."
Mikael smiles too.
"Old best friend privileges."
"Well. Current best friend."
You don't have to be a genius, to see the light in Mikael's smile at a comment like that. Isak thinks it's sweet. And since he's in the business of thinking that Even is the best person in the whole world, it's nice to know that other people love him too. To see, with his own eyes, the way that what he said to Even those years ago is truer than ever now: That he's not alone.
"You know, I see why he likes you. You say very charming things."
Isak laughs.
The next day, it’s Even’s family’s Christmas gathering.
Isak’s met most of these people before, and if he hasn’t, he knows of them. They certainly know of him. By the time everyone’s arrived, he feels like he’s been asked about how uni is about a thousand times. It’s sweet though. All those people who care about Even enough to care about him. All these people solidifying their relationship by giving it the attention and respect of something that seems adult. At the last comment about his school, he catches Even’s eyes and sees him smile.
There’s a kind of tradition here that there’s never been in the rest of his life. It’s nice, though, and it means that being there last year is enough for him to feel included somehow.
It also helps that he’s helped make the food. Helped clean the living room. Helped greet the guests.
In the early evening, between dinner and opening presents, he sits on the couch in the living room he cleaned with Even’s uncle’s four-year-old Alma, who’s making him help her play a game on her iPad. Well. Maybe showing him how to play it is a better phrase.
“No, no,” she says, when he tries to help, drawing the iPad closer to her. “I know it.”
“Okay.”
He tries not to smile in a way she’ll understand. Maybe only half-succeeds, especially when she does what he suggested to her anyway, playing it off as her own idea. She’s a feisty kid.
They’ve been playing for a while when Even comes over, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss his cheek.
“Hey.”
“Don’t distract him,” Alma says. “We’re playing.”
Even looks at him, brows raised both in question and amusement. Isak just shrugs.
"I see,” Even says. “Sorry little missy.”
“I’m not a little missy.”
Even smiles.
“Okay.” Now he’s leaning over the back of the couch next to her. “Can I kiss your cheek?”
“I’m playing.”
“Okay. I love you.”
She sighs and Even giggles. Isak’s trying very hard not to laugh.
“You’re really needy.”
And then he fails.
“Will you show me the game?” Even asks.
“Yes.”
Despite her kid annoyance, she clearly loves him. When Even joins her other side, winking at Isak over her head, she crawls closer so she’s as close to him as possible, putting the iPad on both of their thighs like she’s really getting ready to show the game to him.
“Isak, you have to look too.”
“I'm looking, I promise.”
Even’s grinning at him over her head, the both of them desperately amused. Then he puts an arm around her and squeezes her close.
“Can I kiss your cheek now?” he asks.
“Yes, okay.”
He does, a couple of times, smiling into it. Isak knows it as the way he acts when he’s desperately fond. It’s not hard to tell why he would be now.
“You’re very cute,” he says.
“Yes. Pay attention.”
This time Isak doesn’t manage not to laugh.
They sit with her for a long time, until she stops caring about the game and starts asking them questions about presents and desert instead. Even humors her the whole time, so desperately sweet despite her grumpiness. Or maybe, Isak thinks, looking at himself, more because of it. It's lovely, though. And by the end of it, Isak knows exactly what he's learned.
That nigh they brush their teeth together in the bathroom. And then they head to bed together too. By the time they’re lying across from each other, Isak feels the same calm Even always brings.
The thing is that Even could save any place. That if there’s one thing this Christmas has taught him, other than the big one, it’s that him and Even are a team now. Two people who make life-decisions together, taking each other into consideration, and two people who plan holidays so they won’t have to be apart. Who’s family to each other’s family too. But that doesn't mean they can't need other people as well. And being back in Oslo has reminded him of that.
As Even looks at him, Isak lifts his hand to brush the hair out of his face. He looks soft in the warm, yellow light that’s finding it’s way towards them through the crack beneath the door. And Isak would do absolutely anything for him.
“I’ve thought about what you said,” he says.
“Hm. About what?”
“The Bakka thing.”
Even grows soft.
“Ah.”
Now he’s touching Isak’s hair back too, and Isak thinks maybe there’s a metaphor in that. How they’re never looking out for each other alone.
“It’s been fun, right? Trondheim?”
“It has,” Even says. Tilts his head. “Maybe not what you thought it would be.”
“No. Maybe not.”
Now Even’s the only one touching him. But maybe, Isak thinks, that’s okay too.
“I’m not sure it’s possible to transfer and start at second year. But it’d be possible to enrol for next fall and transfer my credits. At UiO I mean.”
Even smiles.
“You know you don’t have to at all?”
It’s sweet that he’s trying, Isak thinks. Sweet, especially because he can see it in Even’s eyes. How this is the right decision for him too.
“I know,” he says. “But if we stay until summer, maybe a year was enough?”
Even’s eyes soften. And then he holds onto Isak’s cheek the way he does when he’s in love.
“Maybe,” he says. But Isak knows him well.
It’s a yes from the both of them.