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He doesn’t have to look up to know that Isak is already on his way to where Even is standing. The bell for Isak’s last class rang five minutes ago and it usually takes him that much time to gather up his things and say his goodbyes to the boys before meeting Even at the school gates.
True enough, there he is with his hands clutched around his bag straps, a slight blush to his face, and a shy smile stretched across his lips. Even should be used to this by now; he gets to see this five times a week no fail. Hell, the last time he saw Isak was roughly 24 hours ago after Even walked him home, just like he does every weekday. And yet.
And yet, he still feels his heart singing at the sight of the other boy. He still feels the coil in his stomach that keeps twisting and twisting, a Pavlovian response to Isak’s presence. He still looks forward to 15:30 every single day, looks forward to seeing his best friend, looks forward to the shortest 30 minutes after a long day of waiting. He still misses him already even when he’s still right in front of him, just because he knows that just a number of steps and this will be over soon.
Just a number of steps and he will have to wait to see Isak again.
One step, he holds his arm out for Isak to take. Isak pushes him away with a laugh; it takes Even’s breath away.
Three steps and they’re out the school. Even is already starting to miss Isak a little more with each step he takes.
Twenty steps and they’re walking by the playground. It makes him stop and smile.
At age 5, Even met Isak for the first time. He had been playing soccer at the playground with kids his age when he saw a boy sitting alone on the swing set, hugging his own ball to himself. Even had immediately abandoned the other kids to go and say hi.
His mommy had always told him that nobody is an island. He hadn’t understood what she meant when she had explained it to him but he remembered enough about everyone needing a friend. The boy looked like he needed a friend. So, Even will be his friend.
His name is Isak. He said he was 3 years old but he only held up 2 fingers so Even hadn’t been sure. He hadn’t known how to play soccer that’s why he hadn’t shared his ball. But he had laughed when Even pushed him on the swing and the older boy had decided that he liked it better when Isak laughed. So he’d taught him how to play catch and they went up the slides and they played and played until it was almost dinnertime and Isak and Even’s moms said it was time to go home. Isak’s smile had never left and Even wished they never had to leave.
“What are you thinking about?” Isak’s voice pulls him back to reality. They had stopped walking while Even zoned out. He starts walking again and Isak follows.
Thirty steps and he answers, “You. Us.”
Fifty steps, Isak isn’t looking at him. But his ears are red and he says, “Shut up,” but there’s no bite to it. Even hears the smile in his voice.
One hundred steps and they’re passing by the bookstore. Even couldn’t stop smiling, too.
At age 9, Even found out Isak will be starting first grade at his school. It had been at the bookstore when he found out. His mom had been buying him new crayons and pencils and then out of nowhere, Isak came bounding up to him with a huge toothy smile. Or as toothy as it was with all his front teeth missing. Even had forgotten to tease him about it when their moms told them they could start walking home together after school.
Finally! He was so excited that he had started counting down the days until school started.
With Isak around, it’s like Even is suspended in numbers, always counting down days, and hours, and minutes, and seconds until he gets to see him. Always putting a finger down with every step they take. Always measuring how much closer he could get with the other boy.
Two hundred steps and their hands are brushing against each other. Even is itching to reach out and take Isak’s hand.
Two hundred and fifty steps and he almost loses count when Isak intertwines their fingers together and holds tight.
Five hundred steps and Even turns to his left to the direction of their favorite ice cream shop. With one hand, he pushes the door open and is greeted by the cold blow of the air-conditioning against his face. He’s secretly pleased when he feels Isak follow behind him through his other hand, but even more so when old Anders at the counter gives him a wink when he sees where their hands are linked.
At age 14, everyone thought they were dating. Even had accepted early on that he wasn’t exactly straight and he was proud of it. His pansexual pin had been part of his daily ensemble and he made sure everyone saw. But Isak got dodgy every time someone assumed their state of togetherness, Even had to tell himself that his best friend didn’t mean harm with his sometimes insensitive comments.
They discovered Anders’ ice cream shop on one of their walks home. They were always reluctant to go home, going as much as just standing idly at the sidewalk just to stall and talk about everything that went on with their day. So when they had spare coins for some ice cream, they pushed through the doors at Anders’ and decided it was their new tradition.
The place was small but cozy. Even had immediately fallen in love with it the moment he was greeted by the blow of the air-conditioning and of Anders and his husband’s warm welcome.
They had each gotten two ice creams that day. One from their own money, and another one Anders gave them for free because, “Honey, don’t they remind you of us when we were their age? Ah, young love.”
Even had noticed Isak flinching at that, followed by an exasperated, “We’re not like that.” He had said it in such a way that pierced through something in Even without him knowing what exactly. Anders had only laughed and went back to scooping Even’s second batch, handing it to him with a gentle, knowing look.
Even hadn’t known what that look meant back then. He also hadn’t known why Isak insisted on going back there the next day, when he thought they would never step foot in there ever again; when he thought his best friend would hate Anders for implying there was something between them.
He also hadn’t known why Isak would always have this strange look that Even couldn’t read when he looked at Anders and his husband. It wasn’t disgust or anything of the sort. More like the way a scientist would observe a lab rat. It was almost like they created this new routine of going to the shop everyday for Isak to conduct his secret experiments.
Even hadn’t understood a lot of things apparently. He had just been glad he had an excuse to spend more time with the other boy the longer they stayed in the shop.
Isak doesn’t let go of Even’s hands while ordering for both of them. He doesn’t let go even while he’s struggling to get coins to pay. He doesn’t let go even while Anders raises a teasing brow at him. He just smiles, holds on tighter, and pulls Even towards the door when they get their ice cream.
And then, Even’s back to counting.
Five hundred and thirty steps and Isak is telling him about the paper he has to finish tonight.
Six hundred steps and Even tells his best friend about his coworker Noora’s secret admirer from their rival coffee shop across the street.
Seven hundred steps and Isak laughs when he figures out something that he won’t tell Even. But they both stop in their tracks when they reach the tram stop.
At age 15, Even got a girlfriend. Her name is Sonja. She had short blonde hair and pretty green eyes. Just like Isak, his brain would always supply for no reason. He would always pinch himself for it.
He liked her a lot. She was nice. She had a really pretty smile, and he liked kissing it with a smile of his own. It wasn’t only walking home with Isak that he looked forward to every day; he had started looking forward to greeting her at the lockers as well.
But she hadn’t understood why Even never wanted to meet after school. She hadn’t understood that walking home with Isak is a tradition he wouldn’t want to break.
It had been three months of having pretty mornings with Sonja and saying pissy goodbyes to each other in the afternoon. It had also been three months of Isak steering clear of him at school and cutting their walks short. Whereas they used to walk past the tram stop all the time, Isak suddenly parted ways with him there and took the tram home instead.
It had been a cycle that tired him out. The new routine had been something he didn’t want to get used to.
After those three months, he broke up with Sonja. He couldn’t date her now that he realized why seeing her in the morning couldn’t ever make up to the disappointment of seeing less and less of his best friend.
But, Isak had continued avoiding him even after that.
“I’m sorry about before,” Isak says.
Seven hundred and ten steps, Even counts as he forces them to look away from the stop.
Seven hundred and fifty steps and he squeezes Isak’s hand in reassurance. He has long forgiven him.
Eight hundred steps and he closes his eyes when he knows they’re about to pass by the telephone booth a block from Isak’s house.
At age 16, Even was diagnosed with bipolar. He had been hypomanic when his mom noticed he was acting strangely. By the time he completed three visits to the doctor, he got his diagnosis and the lowest of lows.
He hadn’t seen Isak in weeks. He did something horrible, it was only then that he realized.
Oh.
He did something horrible. To Isak, of all people. They had been slowly getting back to their old routine. But he ruined it. He ruined it because when his best friend finally had the courage to come out to him, when he shared his biggest secret that he was ashamed of for so long, he had gone and took advantage of it and kissed him.
He finally kissed him and he couldn’t even be happy about it.
Isak wouldn’t want him anymore, not as his best friend and certainly not anything more. Even if he wanted to, Isak deserved better than him.
But somehow, he had ended up standing in front of Isak’s door. He had known he wasn’t home but he thought it was the closest sort of comfort he could get. He had just stood there for five minutes before walking up a block ahead until he reached a telephone booth. And then he called. He had waited until he was sent to voicemail. And then he talked.
He hadn’t remembered what happened next, all he knew is that he woke up to Isak cuddled to his back whispering over and over again, “You’re not alone.”
He says, “I’m sorry too, you know.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Even.”
He knows he has a lot to be sorry for but he also understands that it’s a mutual thing— how they forgive each other before they even wronged each other, no matter how bad it gets.
Eight hundred and fifty steps and he knows they already walked past the telephone booth. He squeezes Isak’s hand again and Isak squeezes back.
Nine hundred steps and he starts missing Isak once more, more and more now that they’re getting closer and closer to his house.
One thousand and the last step and they’re now at Isak’s door.
At age 20, Even finally confessed to Isak. No, he actually confessed on that voicemail back then. But they had never talked about it again. Their friendship got stronger, the trust restored and yet, there had still been that elephant in the room that everyone and their mothers were aware of.
Even was in love with Isak. It had been true for the past four years and it had been true since forever, maybe even the moment he saw him sitting alone in that playground.
So yesterday, he finally got his shit together, walked Isak home like he always did and confessed at his front door.
“Here we are,” Even says while his heart is pinching with the same longing he always gets when they reach their last destination.
“Here we are,” Isak answers and it pacifies him to hear that he isn’t alone in feeling like this; he doesn’t want the day to be over either.
Isak turns to open his door. Even stares at his pretty back. He already misses him something fierce.
Just when Even is about to say his usual, “Goodbye, good night,” Isak turns back around to cradle his cheeks softly, oh so softly, and leans in.
He kisses Even right there. Less of a goodbye and more of a see you tomorrow. He likes the sound of it when it’s whispered against his lips.
When Isak disappears inside his house, Even starts counting again. Just a few hours more before sees his best friend and boyfriend again.