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and i ruin the moment, because i picture the end
but i don’t wanna go there, so i tell myself that
hey, it’s alright if we don’t end up together
cause you’re mine right now
hey, it’s alright if we don’t get to forever
cause you’re mine right now
A Sunday Kind of Love
“Do you believe in soulmates?”
“No,” Isak responded firmly. His fingers tapped the exposed skin on his belly, full of last night’s beer. Even tried to rub the hangover out of the fluffy curls on top of his head. “There are over seven billion people in the world, and we’re supposed to believe that there’s one person — one person — who’s meant to be with us forever? Forever is also an infinitely long period of time, it’s a mythical concept, if you think about it.”
Even did think about it, as he let Isak drone on and on. The sunlight poured in through the window above the hotel bed. It cast a false halo around Isak’s head, lying comfortably on Even’s lap as they let the morning dance around them. Even had a final film assignment due the next day that he hadn’t started. Isak had to text his friends to let them know that yes, he was alive.
But he was content to just stay there in this bed, with this special grumpy boy who hated waking up earlier than noon on a Sunday.
“So no,” Isak was saying when Even drifted back to reality. His head was hazy and in the clouds because he refused to get up from his warm position for a pain reliever pill. “The idea of soulmates is ludicrous. Did you know some kid in my Writing class last month spelled ludicrous like the rapper?”
Even laughed as Isak launched into a rant, his hands wildly gesturing in the air while he spoke. It wasn't often he was unguarded like this, without some sort of alcoholic stimulant. His cheeks were flushed pink, rosy against his white cotton tee-shirt. “L-u-d-a-c-r-i-s. That’s how he spelled it!”
Even continued to run his fingers through Isak’s hair, smiling fondly at the younger boy. “And I bet you told him off, real good.”
Isak rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being a dick.”
Apparently Isak was quiet in his classes, a fact that made Even laugh for three days straight when he first heard about it. The special, grumpy boy went to class, sat down in a seat, pulled out his notebook, and wrote down the notes from the professor. Only when called on did he reluctantly speak out loud, venturing out his thoughts to the rest of his peers.
Unguarded and among his friends, it was nearly impossible to make Isak shut up. Whether it was about the molecular structure of cells in biology, or about density formulas, or even the specific color of the sky — because according to Isak, it’s never just blue — he always had an opinion on something.
“Only for you,” Even said lightly, as his fingers started to stall their motions in Isak’s curls.
Isak ignored him, stretching out his limbs like a cat. Even missed the warmth of his body immediately when he stood up and scowled at the sky. “It’s a bright day outside. A bit cerulean today, wouldn’t you say?”
Now Even was the one rolling his eyes.
I.
They were supposed to check-out by noon, but neither of them felt much like leaving the little safe haven they’ve created. Isak lied on the couch, his head practically on top of Even’s shoulder, as he tried to type out his film assignment.
“But that’s improper grammar,” Isak pointed out stubbornly, jabbing his finger on Even’s computer screen.
“It’s a screenplay, Isak,” Even said as he wiped off Isak’s fingerprint grease from his screen. “They’re characters in high school. What teenager speaks in proper grammar all the time, anyways?”
Isak had barely opened his mouth before Even lifted his finger to his lips. “What American teenager speaks in proper grammar all the time?”
Isak smirked as he relaxed back onto the couch. He looked comfortable. Almost as if he was a part of the piece of furniture, his white tee-shirt blending in with the white cushions. A wave of nostalgia rushed over Even, wishing that he could have this image in front of him everyday. Isak, just lying around, with a lazy smile curling his lips. No tension in his body. No hunched in shoulders when he saw people approaching that he didn’t necessarily want to talk to.
But he knew very well why he couldn’t.
Isak looked up, his pale green eyes narrowing at Even. “What?”
Can we just, stay in here, forever? Even wanted to ask. He liked Isak’s company and Isak’s presence and Isak’s voice and Isak’s hands and Isak’s everything. He liked the two of them when they were alone, as opposed to the two of them when they were with other people. When they were alone, Isak was unguarded and didn’t care about sounding smart. He said whatever he felt like saying. Yeah, I love this. I really, really love this.
Except this, he sometimes replaced with you.
“Aren’t you hungry yet?” Even asked instead, treading in safer, shallower waters. “I’m in the mood for pizza.”
Isak made a face. “That’s too greasy. It’s not even lunchtime.”
It was actually almost 15:30, but Even didn’t tell Isak that. Not yet, anyways. “Okay, how about soup?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were a grandmother.”
“Christ, Isak. Cheese toasties?”
A small smirk broke across Isak’s face, like a fucking two-year-old. It did not make Even’s heart dance, nor did it make him immediately want to stand up and slather slices of cheese and cardamom on toasted bread for him.
“Yes, please.”
Well.
Not immediately.
He stood up about ten seconds after Isak asked, taking the time to save his unfinished work on his computer before getting to make them both cheese toasties.
II.
They watched the sun set from the window seat, containers of salmon rolls and chicken teriyaki spread between them. Even was definitely going to get billed an extra day for their stay, but it was worth it to steal the extra hours of Isak’s affection while he could.
“It’s kind of pretty,” he remarked after they’d eaten in silence for a while. “It’s like cotton candy. Pink and blue. A little lilac purple.”
“That’s redundant. Lilac is purple.”
“Okay, then. How would you describe it?”
“Either lilac or purple,” Isak said with a mouth full of salmon, seaweed, and rice. “In this case, probably lilac.”
Even still hadn’t finished his film assignment and Isak still hadn’t texted his friends back, but they had all the time in the world to debate the fucking color of the sky.
“What is it about colors?” Even wanted to ask, hoping to figure out why blue or purple or orange were never just good enough for Isak.
“They remind me of my mother,” Even imagined Isak might respond, in a perfect world. Something close to a real answer. But in their world, Isak would shrug and say something smart like, “It’s how I pick out condoms from the convenience store.”
It’s endearing, Even thought, even if he couldn’t always explain why. Anyone who knew Isak Valtersen would not use the word endearing to describe him. He was short-tempered and the worst kind of intelligent — he knew it. He never failed to remind you that he placed top in his class all four years of high school, and even passed his hardest exams his first year with flying colors.
But Even found it endearing how he picked at his sushi with his chopsticks, picking up singular grains of rice before getting irritated and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. It was endearing how Isak refused to wear the same pair of socks, a blue one on his right foot and a green one on his left, his feet sprawled on Even’s lap while they ate. It was endearing how he stared fondly at the sky, trying to decipher what color he thought it really was. There were always a million thoughts and scientific facts running through his brain at any given moment, yet he chose to spend his time with Even, debating the fucking color of the sky.
“You’re right, about one thing.”
Even’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “I’m what?”
Isak dropped his empty container on the floor and untangled their legs, smirking as he came closer to straddling on Even’s lap. “You’re right. The sky is kind of pretty.”
III.
When they finally made it back outside for the first time in almost 36 hours, the moon was high in the night sky, the streetlights of the city guiding their way towards the train.
Isak was quiet for most of the short walk, shoving his hands in his pocket as he hummed to himself. They were no longer in their pajamas but in regular street clothes, carrying their duffel bags at their sides. Isak’s clunky boots hit the pavement that was once coated in snow only a few weeks prior, the only sound in the empty streets around them.
Even saw the train station in the distance and almost slowed his pace. Isak walked slower anyways, having shorter limbs and all.
“Text me when you get home safe?”
Isak rolled his eyes as they get closer. “I’m only fifteen minutes away. Why don’t you text me when you get home safe?”
“It’s the thought that counts.”
They walked through the entrance of the station, reluctantly pulling out their cards. Isak taped his card to the machine, walking through the sliding doors first. Even followed shortly after.
Isak, always a ball of nervous energy when out in the real world, bounced up and down on the back of his heels. “Thank you. For um, this weekend. It was really nice.”
He could barely look at Even. His hands were still stuffed in the pocket of his jeans.
Even took a micro-step closer. Wary of keeping his own hands by his side. “My pleasure.”
Isak briefly glanced at him awkwardly, looking back down at the ground. He then raised his eyes again, keeping contact with Even for a while.
I love this.
I love this too.
Nearly imperceptible to someone who didn’t know every single one of Isak’s quirks and mannerisms, the younger boy’s left eyebrow raised slightly. Only for a nano-second.
Even started to feel choked up. The vast train station around them felt too small compared to their safe haven. He cleared his throat to try to think of something to say, but he inadvertently broke the spell cast between them.
Isak sighed and ran his fingers through his curls. “Yeah. Well. Don’t be a stranger.”
He smiled at Even quickly before turning around and heading to his side of the train tracks. Even watched him go down the stairs, before reluctantly heading in the opposite direction.
Someday I’ll Be Saturday Night
If you asked Even, he wouldn’t recommend vodka shots to even his worst enemy. But it was noted that no one asked him and he was the one sprawled across the bed, the sunlight on his exposed tummy, full of last night’s vodka shots.
Isak was right beside him, snoring softly as his chest rose and fell with every inhaled breath. Even was content to just lie there, their arms still tangled together, and watch him. His curls were spread around the pillow, framing his pretty, sleeping face like an angel. And for once — he was perfectly at peace.
But Even’s stomach rolled violently and the next thing he knew, he was untangling his limbs from Isak’s and rushing to the bathroom outside of their hotel room. He got quite familiar with the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl for the next few minutes before he washed his mouth out in the sink and rubbed at his eyes.
He took a good look at himself in the mirror, completely disheveled. Completely hungover. His eyes were red-rimmed and sunken in. His cheeks were flushed from throwing up everything in his stomach. There was a pounding in his head that was somehow worse than hearing nails drag across a chalkboard.
He hauled himself out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, where Isak had begun to stir. The younger boy stretched out his arms as he drew in a deep breath through his nose. He scowled at the window. “It’s so fucking bright out.”
Even chuckles to himself as he walked over to the windows and fiddled with his blinds. Instantly, the sunlight disappeared and Isak sighed contently.
“Much better.”
“How’d you sleep?” Even asked as he yawned and climbed back into bed. Isak immediately draped himself over Even, the latter smiling as he cautiously wrapped his arms around Isak’s body.
“I feel like I’m going to die,” Isak said with a gravelly voice. Even could hear his heart thumping through his thin pajama tee-shirt.
“If I remember correctly, you were the one who insisted we keep taking those damn vodka shots.”
Isak snorted. “Well, that’s just it. You don’t remember correctly.”
Images of Isak from the previous night, grinning brightly as he practically shoved shot glasses filled with a clear, vile liquid towards Even’s face, brought more waves of nausea to his stomach. He shook his head to steel himself.
“Today I don’t feel like doing anything.”
Isak’s head lifted an inch off of Even’s chest. His gaze was directed towards the nightstand, where both of their iPhones, devoid of cases, were. “I should let the boys know I’m alive at some point.”
“But are you alive?” Even asked. He’d begun to trace circles on Isak’s lower back, reveling in how Isak’s breaths became much more jagged. “You just said you felt like you were going to die.”
His words lull Isak back into lying on his chest, pressed closely against his side. “I guess a couple more hours couldn’t hurt.”
IV.
A couple more hours came and went, but still neither Even nor Isak made any effort to get out of their hotel bed. The comforter was thick and fluffy. The mattress felt like lying on a cloud. The blinds kept all evidence that it was daytime outside hidden from their eyes.
Isak talked and talked, like he normally did. His fingers ran up and down Even’s arm as he talked about his friends. Even paid attention this time around and tried to keep up with all the names and places and stories.
Jonas liked to talk about world issues and write long, formal papers on policy change and the dangers of for-profit universities in the United States. Magnus was dating a close friend of Jonas’s ex-girlfriend, Eva, named Vilde and every time they were within five inches of each other, they felt the need to “swap spit.” Mahdi was kind and thoughtful, but the minute you challenged him to beer pong, he would not hold back on “kicking your ass” and “destroying your self-esteem.”
“What about you?” Even asked once Isak had paused to take a breath.
“Me?” Isak repeated. He lifted his head a centimeter to look into Even’s eyes. “What about me?”
“How would your friends describe you?”
Even could tell it was the wrong question as Isak’s hold on him loosened, in pretense of stretching again. “I don’t know. Smart. Funny. The usual.”
Even snorted. He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Okay but what about the real shit?”
“I think being smart is some real shit,” Isak shrugged, but he had moved over to the other side of the bed by that point. Just staring at the ceiling, until his eyes returned back to Even. “How would your friends describe you?”
“Smart,” Even said with a smirk. “Funny. You know. All the regular stuff.”
Isak rolled his eyes, turning away again to hide his own smile. “Definitely not original. What should we do today?”
Even’s head was still in a state of disarray, but he was getting a little bit hungrier. “Want breakfast?”
Except Isak shook his head. “I’d rather choke on my own vomit.”
“Charming,” Even said as he made a face. “I guess we could watch a movie?”
Isak finally turned over on his side to face him again and groaned. “You only like pretentious movies.”
“What? I’m not pretentious!”
“Whenever I say I want to watch a superhero movie, you roll your eyes at me and say it’s not a real movie.”
“Isak, Josh Trank's Fantastic Four is a terrible movie. The worst thing that has ever been produced on this planet.”
Isak crossed his arms over his chest. “You just don’t like anything I like.”
Even’s head fell back onto the headboard as he groaned. “You really want to watch it and waste two hours of our lives, that we’ll never get back? Really?”
Isak had moved closer to Even again, his arm reaching across Even’s stomach as he looked up into his eyes and smiled. “I’ll make it worth your while?”
You always make it worth my while, Even thought. But he held back his smile and those words, wanting to keep Isak close to him as long as possible. “I’m going to say I told you so.”
V.
They didn’t talk about the movie after they finished it, nor did they ever speak about it again. The second the credits began to roll, Isak straddled his legs around Even’s waist and kissed him with a violent fervor, one that could only make sure Even was not at any liberty to say I told you so.
Even liked kissing Isak better when they were sober and could remember the taste of each other. Isak was never the same. Never something corny like strawberries and mint, or beer and cigarettes. Sometimes he was the salty air after it had rained relentlessly for days. Sometimes he was fire and ignited a burning sensation in Even that barely made it to the bedroom.
Even liked seeing Isak after they had made-out for a while sober, his lips red and cheeks flushed and that gleam in his wild green eyes. He could remember how fondly Isak looked at him when they pulled apart for air, a look he could never quite piece together when he was drunk.
Even had opened his mouth to say something, before Isak pressed a finger to his lips. “I’m going to run some water in the jacuzzi. If you dare say anything, I’m getting in there alone.”
Even kept his mouth shut, but he smirked fondly at Isak who slowly lifted his legs off of Even’s body and walked over towards the bathroom.
“You always make it worth my while,” Even whispered once he heard the water start running.
VI.
They drank beers and ate cheese toasties in the jacuzzi because they could and because they felt like it.
Even’s headache had finally gone away during the movie and he felt like they deserved some beers after a nice long day of talking, sitting through a terrible movie, and not eating anything at all. So, Even heated up a couple of cheese toasties with Isak’s favorite ingredients, pulled a couple of cold beers out of the mini-fridge, and sat in the jacuzzi across from him as they ate and drank.
This time, Isak fixated on him with those light green eyes. Expectant.
“What?”
“How would your friends describe you?” Isak asked again. He talked with a mouth full of cheese and bread and spices, washed down with the bitter taste of beer. Even had never seen a more endearing sight.
Isak’s foot hovered dangerously close to his naked thigh, making him even more aware he couldn’t bullshit his way out of this question. It was unfortunately reasonable that if he wanted to know so much about what the wonderful boy across him had been up to over the school year, said boy would want to know the same things too
So Even chewed carefully. What did his friends think about him? All the times he missed classes because the colors around him were too bright or because his heart felt too heavy, like a thick gray raincloud had parked on top of his entire body? He rarely went out to parties anymore, save for special occasions like last night, and only picked up the phone when they called. Never called them anymore. Never asked them to come by his apartment and play video games or just talk like they used to.
Even decided on a simple answer. A safe answer.
“They’d say I’m still getting my shit together.”
Isak’s look didn’t soften or harden. He mulled it over as he took another bite of toast. “And what do you think?”
“On whether or not I have my shit together?” Even sighed. He took another long swig of beer, hearing a familiar voice in the back of his head telling him to be careful. He took another swig.
“On whether or not that’s a bad thing,” Isak clarified. His can of beer was practically untouched, even though it was his favorite alcoholic drink. His cheese toast was almost gone, however.
Even didn’t know what he thought of himself and his situation. He just knew that he cared about the boy in front of him and wanted to see him smile like he did when he was drunk and completely unguarded all the time. Even when he was sober.
That was what Even always wanted.
“I think,” Even started to say as he eyed Isak mischievously. “You’re entirely too dry for someone in a jacuzzi.”
Before Isak could even begin to process his words, Even immediately ducked under water and splashed the hell out of Isak. When he came back up to his surface, Isak was laughing uncontrollably, clutching his sides as he gasped for air. It was the most wonderful sight to see, Isak’s neck exposed and his Adam’s apple throbbing as he laughed harder and harder. Somewhere Even could hear bells, bells, bells ringing. In a perfect world, Isak was standing across from him at the altar as the light of heaven shone down upon them.
Friday I’m in Love
Even doesn’t have classes on Fridays. Fridays are days he should be working at the campus television station, revising scripts or watching upperclassmen directors on their own sets and learning from them.
But there are days where he can’t seem to find the energy to get out of bed, which makes him wonder if he ever truly did have it in him. So he doesn’t get out of bed on Friday mornings, and instead waits for his peers to finish with their classes before finally leaving his apartment for the first time that day.
However, this Friday is special. It’s the last week of classes on campus and the first week of May, which meant Isak’s coming home for the summer. Isak, who had accepted the scholarship to study at a university outside of their home city, outside of their home region, because Even told him to.
Even told him that he needed to follow his dreams, while the younger boy was crying over the telephone, because who could give up an opportunity like this? Isak was silent for a long time, sniffling every few minutes.
“You have to follow your dreams, baby,” were Even’s exact words as he stared at the chipping paint on his bedroom closet, instead of the framed picture he had on his desk of himself and his boyfriend. “This will be good for you.”
“But what about for us?” Isak had protested. His voice was weak. “I applied because I never thought I’d actually get it.”
“Which is why you have to take it,” Even whispered back. He cleared his throat and said in a stronger tone, “Isak, these chances don’t come every day.”
“Yeah, but people like you don’t come everyday. And you know I don’t believe in soulmates.”
Even has cleared all of his weekend commitments to book a weekend stay at a nearby hotel, the Radisson Blu. He’ll take Isak to one of the house parties that night before they check into their room at the hotel and whatever would come next, will come next.
The only problem is — he hasn’t seen Isak since the younger boy moved to university two and a half hours away. Nine months ago.
For the first couple of months, they’d talked every day and Skyped every night. Isak always had something to say, about the weather, about the goddamn color of the sky. Even was always content to listen, sometimes chime in if he thought there was a real difference between sky blue and light blue.
Around November, when the days started getting shorter and the nights began getting longer, Isak had begun to get more comfortable in his new city, among his new friends. There was a Jonas in the picture, and a Magnus and a Mahdi. Girls were mentioned from time to time, like his biology partner Sana and Jonas’s girlfriend Eva and her best friend Noora and their friends Chris and Vilde. Isak dropped the names of his new friends so casually, as if Even already knew them and could keep up with them in conversation.
Around December, Isak would have come to visit Even for the holidays if Even had asked him. But he had found out that Jonas had invited Isak to his family’s cabin, where they’d go skiing and snowboarding and Even couldn’t let him miss that opportunity.
Around February, their calls had become shorter, full of filler sentences more than the true thoughts running across Isak’s mind. Isak had sent him a gift that arrived just in time for his birthday and Even had to do everything in his power not to buy a one-way train ticket to him.
By the time May rolled around, Even misses Isak with every bone in his body. His heart aches at the thought of holding him again in his arms as they fall asleep, brushing a stray curl away from Isak’s face as he talks and talks and talks.
But Even can’t regret pushing him towards the scholarship that wedged this distance between them, because a nearly permanent smile has finally graced Isak’s angelic face after months and months of stress headaches and sleepless nights of trying to find somewhere he could get away from his mother.
VII.
Isak is just as handsome and as shy as he’d been when he’d left nine months ago.
He steps off the train, clutching his duffel bag for dear life as he takes in the bright lights of station and the constant chaos. Even in May, he’s still wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and clunky boots.
Even’s holding up a large poster for Isak, barely able to breathe. He wants to drop everything and run to him, but nine months have anchored his feet to the ground, where he merely waits for Isak to notice him.
Isak’s eyes scan the crowd as he moves with the other passengers, taking an agonizingly long time to notice Even. But when he does, his smile spreads wide across his face, because this isn’t the end. Not like Even had spent so much time fearing, while his limbs tried to attach themselves to his mattress.
It’s only the beginning.