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Growing up together is easy.
It's like - a safety net. Knowing that whatever happens, Isak has Even's back, and Even has Isak's. It's like - comfort, like a blanket, except that the blanket is living and breathing and his name's Isak, and he has soft hair that tickles Even's nose and smells like home. It's like - warmth, like getting under a duvet on cold nights, and warming up next to someone you love, like -
Growing up together was easy. Before Even fell into the depths of his own feelings. All - love and shit.
Since the age of eight, Even's been a romantic. And not even just a little bit - it's full on, head over heels, love at first sight, I'm-so-in-love-I-think-I-might-die shit every time he so much as looks at someone, and everyone knows it - Isak best of all.
Isak knows everything - that's how it works, this safety net, comfort, warmth thing. Isak knows him so well, and he knows enough that when Even starts talking about that shit, he fakes throwing up, and goes back to kicking his football around.
"Don't you ever want to be in love?" Even asks. He's thirteen, and Isak eleven, and they're on a camping trip with their parents that they're convinced they're both too old for at this point.
Isak turns to Even, disparaging expression already set, even as he chews the marshmallow he'd been melting over the fire, which, in Even's opinion, is never something you should do without smiling.
"Fuck no," Isak says vehemently. "Girls are weird."
"So don't be in love with a girl." It seems simple, to Even.
"The fuck?" Isak's tense, almost dropping the marshmallow. "I'm not fucking gay."
Even pulls back a little, moving away from Isak's volcanic reaction.
"Jeez, okay," he says, half laughing. "I never said you were."
"You said -" Isak turns away, and coughs into his hand. "Whatever. I don't wanna be in fucking love, Even. Don't be a fucking girl about it."
Even doesn't reply - he's not sure how, to that. Feels cold even with the heat of the fire, because Isak is like a block of ice next to him, and he's not looking towards Even, he's not being that safe comforting warmth right now. He's just being a dick.
Later, though - after an evening of near silence - later when they're settling for the night, Isak shifts to the edge of his air mattress, further towards Even, and he reaches out, giving even a hard prod in the shoulder.
"Hey," he hisses. "You awake?"
"No," Even grumbles.
"Sorry I said you were being a girl."
"Okay."
"So are you in love?"
Even's always in love with someone, but nothing overtaking his mind so much as Isak's words from earlier.
"You're a dick," he mutters instead of answering.
As expected, Isak's answer is “yeah, and?”
“Go to sleep.”
*
By fifteen, he's figured it out, but Isak hasn't.
Even's figured out that the reason it bothers him when Isak makes gay jokes is that, actually, sometimes, he likes boys.
He hasn't told anyone, of course. Least of all Isak, because he'd probably explode.
It's not that he doesn't love Isak, and trust him beyond anything, it's just that - he doesn't feel safe knowing it yet. Some part of it doesn't feel real enough to say out loud, some part of it feels like he's probably just making it up, being sensitive over nothing.
And he's also, sort of, losing his feelings about everything, somehow. It makes less sense than boys do, but its taking up much more of his brain, a vast expanse of exhaustion, widening with every step. He can keep it at bay with some things, spending time with Isak, watching movies, but most of the time he's a slave to it. He just can't be bothered anymore.
And then his mum makes him go to the doctor about his lack of energy and enthusiasm, and he gets told what's going on, and then he just sort of gives up on everything for a while.
*
“Do you wanna know something fucking dumb?” Isak says, a little tipsy, on the saturday before Even's about to switch schools to Nissen to redo his final year.
“I don't know, do I?”
“I'm telling you anyway. You remember that camping trip we went on when I was like eleven?”
Even narrows his eyes, a habit he's picked up from Isak over the years. “Kinda. Pretty sure I was pissed at you for most of it.”
“Yeah, 'cause I told you you were being a girl about being in love,” Isak says, though he shifts a little, his eyes wavering away from Even for a second. Even has since told him about liking boys, but doesn't correct him, though it is sometimes fun to watch Isak squirm. “But the dumb thing is,” Isak continues. “I kinda wish I was in love right now.”
“Oh?” Even says it as if he's uninterested, but that couldn't be further from the truth. “With who?”
“No, like, that's the point, I'm not in love with anyone, and I'm bored.”
“Pining for Sara?” Even asks, raising an eyebrow.
“No, fuck off,” Isak says. “I'm not pining for anyone. I'm just - left out all the time, like, you have Sonja, and Jonas has Isabel, like, what about me?”
“Me and Sonja broke up.”
“What? You didn't say anything?”
Even shrugs. “Not a big deal. We weren't in love anymore.”
“Yeah, well, obviously, but you didn't say you'd actually finished it, dick.”
“I just told you,” Even says, knowing that Isak is right, that he is being a dick. “It was only yesterday.”
“You sad?”
Even shakes his head, only half truthfully. “S'boring, though. Not being in love.”
“It fucking is,” Isak sighs, flopping backwards onto Even's bed.
“Since when were you a romantic?” Even teases.
Isak's eyes stay fixed on the ceiling, and he does a sort of full-body shrug, almost flopping around the whole bed like a fish. “Dunno. It's gross. And it's your fault.”
“Knew I'd get through to you one day,” Even grins. “I'm sure we can find you a girlfriend. I'll be your wingman.”
“Ugh, if I was gonna ask anyone to be my wingman, it would not be you.”
“Why, 'cause I'm so hot that they all wanna date me instead?”
“No, because you talk about fucking romance all the time,” Isak says. “But to be honest, it makes you a good wingman that you're so fucking ugly I look unreal by comparison.”
“You don't believe that. You think I'm hot as fuck.”
“I do not.”
“Yeah you do.”
“Nope.”
“You do. Admit it.”
“Fuck no.”
It devolves, into a wrestling match. Even wins, but Isak still won't admit that he's hot.
This, though, them lying together, Even pinning Isak's hands to his sides and laughing hysterically - this is that comfort. Letting it settle into cuddling, that's the safety.
And, looking into Isak's eyes, that's the warmth. That's home.
There's a tiny voice in Even's head that wonders if it's love, too.
*
At the first party of the year, when Even was intending to follow through on his promise to be Isak's wingman, Isak freezes up. Tense all over, words clipped to short sentences, abrupt responses. Even tries to tease him that he wanted to be in love, and all he gets is a “fuck this, I'm out,” before Isak almost runs out to the garden, and Even loses him for a while.
He knows Isak, so he knows he needs to be alone for a while until he cools down - but usually, knowing Isak means he knows what causes the frustrated outbursts. This time - he's clueless, maybe it's that he was lying about there not being someone he was pining over, maybe he's dizzy from the joint the group of them shared earlier, maybe he's just not in the mood but - usually Even would know.
He leaves it half an hour, then goes after Isak, looks for him in the garden outside.
He finds him tangled up with some first year girl, all trace of his anger gone, but some aftertaste of discomfort left in his place - because Even knows Isak. He sees him, and how he feels.
He sees, too, when Isak hears him walk towards them, and his eyes open midway through the kiss, staring Even down without breaking any part of his contact with the first year, or any part of Even's eye contact.
Even should know Isak. He should know how he feels, what he was thinking - but now - Even doesn't know anything of what just happened.
*
“So you in love with her?” It's not his most enthusiastic teasing, by a long shot, but it's the most he can conjure up in the circumstances. Isak's been half-dating Emma for two weeks now, since the party that they haven't talked about, though it's been nonstop in Even's brain.
Isak lets out a humourless laugh. “You know I'm not a romantic.”
“Yeah, but last I heard you wanted to be in love.”
“Well,” Isak shrugs, traces of inexplicable anger flitting through his voice. “Love is disappointing.”
Even hums. “Usually that means you aren't in love.”
“I think I've just spent too much fucking time around you who thinks that love is the be all and end all of life.”
“Love is the be all and end all of life.”
“Mm-hm,” Isak replies, unconvinced. “But it's not all it's cracked up to be.”
“Isak, do you even like Emma?”
Isak gives a defensive sort of shrug. “I'm dating her.”
“Yeah, but do you like her? As a person? Do you want to spend time with her and hold her hand and buy her flowers?”
“I'm not you.”
“You know you don't have to date her, right?” Even softens his voice. “You don't have to prove anything, or whatever it is you're trying to do. If you don't like her, don't -”
“Whatever,” Isak interrupts. “Just because I'm not over the top about it like you are, doesn't mean I don't -” he clears his throat, “-like her.”
Even sighs, but lets the matter drop. His Isak is so predictable - usually comfortingly so. The way that Even almost always knows what Isak's thinking or doing or feeling. This, though, it's more just frustrating.
*
Isak calls it off with Emma ten days later.
"You were right," he says grudgingly. "It wasn't fucking love."
Even's not often too proud to say I told you so, but he finds he doesn't want to say that to Isak now. He also - doesn't really want to offer sympathy, because he doesn't think Isak wants it. He sits, next to Isak who's lying down on his bed, half looking at Even, who waits for more words to follow.
"I don't know if I want to be in love," Isak says. "It depends if there's a nice version."
"There is," Even says. "Haven't you ever had a crush on anyone?"
Isak looks down and away, and doesn't reply. Silence stretches between them for a while, until eventually Isak speaks.
"I knew I wasn't in love with Emma" he says. "I mean, I knew I didn't even like her."
"Okay," Even replies, knowing that this definitely isn't the time for an I told you so .
"I think I - I mean, I know you won't care about this, because - but I didn't really know how to say it - I mean -" he sighs, and cuts himself off.
Even shifts so that he's more level with Isak, lying down with him, looking into his eyes, and wondering if it feels safe for Isak now.
"I'm - I had a crush on Jonas last year," Isak confesses, looking away immediately.
Even feels a smile on his face - flickering through with a little of disappointment, a little jealousy, a little of his imagination running wild and being proved wrong as always - but mostly he's triumphant, knowing what he sort of had suspicions of all along.
"And I don't think I like girls, like, at all," Isak continues. "So, you win."
"What do I win?" Even grins. "If it's not money I don't want it.”
“Fucking dick,” Isak mutters, shoving Even's shoulder backwards, laughing quietly along with him.
“But,” Even asks after they've both quieted again. “Does this mean you do still want to be in love?”
Isak exhales loudly. “I don't know. If there was the right person, but - there isn't, so.”
“You seem so certain of that.”
“I mean, it's hard enough to find girls to date.”
“We can find you a boyfriend," Even says cheerfully, reaching out when Isak's shoulders tense at the word. "And some self acceptance. I'm a great wingman, whose skills you tragically ignored last time."
"Deliberately avoided," corrects Isak. "I don't know. What about you, anyway?"
Even doesn't realise that he's changing the subject, at first. His mind fills in the blanks, against his will, with can't I just date you instead? Thankfully, his speech filter works, at least a little bit.
"Me? What about me?" he laughs.
"Like, are you in love? You haven't had anyone in, like, a record amount of time. You know I'm a better wingman than you are, if you want."
Even nods. "Thanks, but that's not true at all. You fucking suck."
"Don't you wanna be in love, Even?" Isak asks, badly imitating him in an affected voice. "Where's your romantic side gone?"
"It's taking a nap," Even replies easily. "Taking a break for some much needed me-time."
Isak raises an eyebrow, a laugh threatening to burst forth. “I kind of don't believe you,” he says. “When have you ever not been in love?”
“When have you ever wanted to be in love, though? Times are changing,” he smirks. “I just don't want to be in love.”
He's not exactly lying - he really doesn't want to be in love. Really fucking wishes he wasn't in love right now.
*
The next party that they go to, that Even finds out about from Eskild, is a complete disaster.
“I would not date a single fucking one of them,” Isak announces, collapsing down onto his bed afterwards, slightly drunk, and pulling Even down with him. “This is so fucking boring.”
“None of them?” Even asks. “Damn.”
“Except maybe the guy you were with. How did you manage to get the only hot guy there?”
“Because I'm incredibly attractive?” Even replies, though, the real answer is something closer to - as a distraction. So that he'd stop - but it didn't fucking work, of course. And when Isak interrupted him, clearly drunk and needing to go home - it's not as if Even had a choice as to who he would go with, even if the guy did seem annoyed.
“Ugh,” Isak groans dramatically. “I give up.”
“You've tried once.”
“I. Give. Up.”
Even nods disbelievingly, and tries to move the bedcovers out from under Isak so he can get them back over him. “You're drunk and you need to go to sleep.”
Isak makes more dramatic noises, but somehow lets Even get him into bed before sliding in next to him like they've been doing since they were kids, though with every passing day it feels a little more too much.
Isak rolls away from him, and Even lies on his back, looking at the back of Isak's head, watching his breathing slow. He's almost asleep - but before he gets there fully, he speaks again.
“We should just date instead. It'd be easier.”
The words are so slurred with tiredness and drunkenness that Even knows he doesn't have to reply - he knows Isak won't remember this in the morning.
He also doesn't know what to do with himself. He's never felt so far from comfort when he's this close to Isak.
*
A few weeks later, when Even's just about managed to get his heart rate normal around Isak, there's a party at Eva's. Isak and Jonas hole themselves up in the bathroom upstairs along with Magnus and Mahdi, and Even stays downstairs because that way maybe it'll fall to Jonas to look after an intoxicated Isak.
It works, to start with. He's sufficiently distracted by everyone here, busy talking to all the others and letting Eva pull him along to dance with her.
It's a good night. And - later into the evening, there's a girl definitely flirting with him, which he won't complain about - because he needs distracting, desperately. So he flirts back, smiles at her, and lets things escalate naturally.
Except that, he's about to lean in, and then he's interrupted.
He half thinks it's his imagination, a daydream of his subconscious trying to stop him from denying his feelings, but no, Isak is really here, he's come downstairs - and he's not really drunk, not even that high, but he's tugging on Even's sleeve.
“Even, dude - the police are here.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No, for real, and i just agreed to look after Mahdi's stash, come on, we gotta go.”
It's not really a decision he has to make, whether to let Isak go by himself. He gives an apologetic glance at the girl, and follows Isak out of the house.
*
“What was that about?” Even asks when they're out of the house and walking down the street. “Why d'you need me to leave with you?”
“Because,” Isak says floundering a little. “Because you're good at getting out of trouble. You could just charm the cops into letting us go if they'd stopped us.”
“I'm flattered that you think so high of me.”
Isak rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Can we go back to yours? I can't be bothered walking all the way home.”
“Sure. I mean, no one else is coming home with me,” he says, letting some irritation into his voice, though he isn't certain it's genuine.
Isak scoffs. “You didn't want her to, though.”
He's not exactly wrong, but it still gets Even's back up.
“Says who?”
“It's just obvious,” Isak says, shrugging. “You weren't that into her. You were being all fake about it.”
“Didn't realise you were an expert in who I'm into,” Even says. He'd sort of hoped that Isak wasn't an expert, in fact.
“I've known you fifteen years.”
“Doesn't make you an expert.”
“Yeah it does.”
“Okay,” Even replies, in a moment of stupidity. “Who am I into, then?”
Isak hesitates for a moment that stretches into what feels like years. Even risks a glance towards him out of the corner of his eye, and sees him looking down at the floor, chewing on his bottom lip. Eventually, he shakes his head, and smiles again - and if Isak is an expert in when Even's being fake, Even has the same skills when it comes to Isak. The smile doesn't meet his eyes.
“Harry Styles, probably.”
“Projecting, much?”
Isak shakes his head. “Dick,” he mutters.
That's the end of the conversation. Even can't bring himself to continue, can't bring himself to look at Isak for the rest of the walk home, can't bring himself to let himself project any more onto Isak.
Still, as they walk, their arms brush together, sparking warmth from the place that they touch. That's not likely to ever change.
*
“You can't seriously tell me it's been like three months and you aren't in love with anyone new?” Isak is in his room, a little while later, trying to get answers out of Even.
“I'm not in love with anyone new,” Even says, truthfully, because Isak isn't new. He's constant.
“Are you ill?”
Even fights a rueful smile and shakes his head. “You're so obsessed with my love life. Is yours that dull?”
“Yes,” Isak replies vehemently. “God, I already told you. Nothing and noone happens to me.” He flops back onto Even's bed, his head on the pillow beside where Even is sitting.
“Aw,” Even coos, stroking Isak's hair condescendingly - or, mostly condescendingly. Some of the reason is just because the feeling of Isak's hair between his fingers is one of his comforts, and from the way Isak exhales, shakily calm, it's the same for Isak.
Even is feeling just foolish enough that he decides to tease Isak. “Maybe drunk you was right. We should just date to make things easier.”
Isak tenses and goes pale next to him, and Even's heart goes ice cold when he realises what he's just said out loud.
“I said that?” asks Isak, letting out a weak laugh. “Ha. Maybe we should.”
“I'd have to be, like, super drunk, though,” Even jokes. “Just so you know.”
“You'd have to be drunk? I'd have to be ten times fucking drunker.”
Even disentangles his hand from Isak's hair, and shoves at his shoulder, almost toppling him off the bed.
“Dick!” Isak exclaims, moving back towards him, trying to push him off instead.
Even grabs both his arms, pushing him away. “You really wanna start this? You never win.”
“I win more than you do, asshole,” Isak says, already losing, falling back against the pillows, still holding Even away from him, but only barely.
It takes only a three second struggle before Even is triumphant, legs either side of Isak's hips, leaning over him and grinning at him as he holds his wrists down. It's a lot more of a struggle for Even to keep his thoughts at bay, about the way Isak is looking at him, smirking, his tongue poking out between his lips.
“What was that about winning?” Even forces out in a casual voice.
Isak raises an eyebrow. “You think you won?” he asks, and doesn't wait for an answer before he surges forward and kisses Even, knocking all the air out of him, and startling him back enough that Isak can flip them over.
He pulls back, and Even can see the panic in his expression that he tries to cover up with triumph. “See? I won.”
Even takes a second to collect his thoughts, trying not to smile too wide. “You're not drunk,” he says, tilting his head in question.
“No,” Isak agrees, avoiding Even's eyes, moving back and allowing Even to sit up slowly. “I'm not.”
Even smiles, realising how obvious everything has been for a while. He reaches forward, his hand on Isak's cheek.
“Hey,” he says softly, encouraging Isak to look at him, taking in his rapid breathing, his flickering gaze. “I'm not drunk either,” Even continues, and closes the distance between them.
*
“When did you know?” Isak asks later that evening. He's barely stopped kissing Even all evening, and he definitely hasn't stopped smiling.
Even smiles to himself. “Before I broke up with Sonja,” he says, only slightly ashamed. “What about you?” he asks, changing the subject quickly so that he can avoid Isak calling him out on being shitty.
“Jeez,” Isak exhales. “Not that long. I uh - I guess it was - I mean I don't know. I kept thinking I wanted to be in love and then I realised that there was only really one person I would want to be in love with.”
“Oh yeah? Which person, should I be jealous?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Isak mutters.
“Make me.”
Isak flicks an eyebrow up, and moves into Even's space, pressing his lips to Even's for the hundredth time - maybe more than. They kiss for a while, and then Even pulls away, barely a centimeter, just enough to catch Isak's eye, and speak again.
“I don't think I could ever have fallen in love with anyone else,” he says. “If you were wondering why I've been so unromantic these last few months, it's because I've been desperately trying not to confess my feelings for you every fucking day.”
Isak smirks. “Fucking loser.”
“Yeah, but you're the one that's in love with me.”
Isak sighs, but has no rebuttal. “Yeah. I - you're safe,” he says. “Comforting. I couldn't find anyone like you.”
Even thinks back to how many times he's thought this about Isak, how - almost unreal it is to hear those thoughts reflected back at him. The safety, the comfort.
Everything that Isak is.
He winds his arms around Isak's body, and pulls him in close, feeling at home.