Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The music was a bit too loud, the room a bit too crowded, but Even didn’t mind. The edges of the night were pleasantly blurred—just enough vodka to make things soft around the edges, not enough to stop the way Isak’s laugh settled warm in his chest.

They’d come straight from pre-drinks at the old flat. Eskild had insisted, claiming he missed having Isak’s grumpy self around. The others came too; Magnus had gone on about some ridiculous podcast for half the night, while Jonas and Mahdi showed up with a six-pack between them. It had been loud, warm, full of the kind of casual chaos Even had come to associate with Isak. It was funny, how easily he fit into it now. 

Now, they were at some party of a friend of Eskild’s and Even leaned back on the couch, arm stretched along the back, fingers brushing lightly against Isak’s shoulder. Isak was half-sitting, half-sinking into Even’s side, cheeks flushed from the vodka soda Eskild had made him drink ten minutes ago.

Even watched him. His laugh, the way his nose crinkled at something Jonas had said. The slope of his throat where his collar had slipped, the way his shirt clung low across his back, rumpled and slightly damp from the heat of the room. 

Isak caught his gaze. Held it, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth like he knew exactly what Even was thinking. He shifted just slightly, enough for his leg to press more fully against Even’s. His fingers brushed lightly over Even’s knee, slow and deliberate.

He turned a little more toward him, voice lower now. “Hey. Wanna head out?”

Even let his eyes trail over him — the flush in his cheeks, the warm curve of his mouth. He smiled. “Yeah?”

Isak’s smirk deepened. “Yeah. I could think of a few things I’d rather be doing.”

Even huffed a quiet laugh.

“I’ll just go say bye to Sana real quick.”

Even nodded. “I’ll wait out front.”

Isak grinned. “Ten minutes, tops.”

He disappeared into the crowd.

Ten minutes turned into fifteen.

Even leaned against the doorframe, scrolling aimlessly through his phone with one hand, jacket over his arm. Every time someone passed through the hall, his head lifted slightly—just in case. But it was never Isak.

He wasn’t worried. Not really.

He probably ran into someone.

Someone like Mahdi, who always pulled people into long-winded rants about food or weed or both. Or maybe Sana had pulled him into a debate about politics again. It happened.

Still, Even typed out a quick message.

hey, did you get lost or something?

He stared at the screen. For one minute. Then five. Still nothing.

Even let out a soft breath through his nose. He slipped his phone into his pocket and walked back into the party. The living room was still packed. The lights dim, people dancing, half-sitting on armrests or tucked into corners of the couch.

He spotted Jonas, Magnus, and Eskild still on the sofa in the corner. Eskild was telling some story, waving his arms around dramatically— and the group laughed, Magnus doubling over and almost spilling the contents of the bottle clutched haphazardly in his hand.

Even weaved his way over.

“Hey,” he said. “You guys seen Isak?”

Jonas glanced up. “Wasn’t he with you?”

“He went to say bye to Sana. That was a while ago.”

Eskild cocked his head. “Maybe she started ranting about capitalism.” He gave a shrug. “He’s probably still here somewhere.”

Magnus chimed in. “You want us to help look?”

But Even shook his head slowly, his eyes drifting past them to the hallway. “Nah, I’ll just check around. Thanks.”

He left them behind and moved down the hallway, starting with the kitchen. It smelled like beer and pizza. A group of girls hovered near the sink, giggling over a bowl of chips. Even scanned the room quickly—counters, corners, under the harsh fluorescent light.

No Isak.

He moved on.

The hallway bathroom door stood open, the light off. Empty. Just a towel crumpled on the floor and someone’s lipstick-smeared glass on the sink.

Still no sign of him.

Even turned toward the back door and stepped outside into the garden.

The air was cool and damp. Smoke hung in the air, curling from a circle of people gathered beneath the awning. One of them let out a loud, hoarse laugh. Even scanned the faces, hoping to catch a flash of blond hair, a red snapback, anything familiar.

But none of them were Isak.

He didn’t linger, just turned and went back inside, the warmth of the house rushing back over him.

Every corner he turned came up empty.

Then he spotted her. Sana. Sitting on the staircase with a drink in one hand, phone in the other.

He walked over. “Hey. Sana.”

“Hi,” she looked up, raising a brow in greeting.

“Have you seen Isak? He said he was going to find you to say goodbye.”

Sana’s brows pinched. “What? No—I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Even paused. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just turned, muttered “thanks,” and walked back to the main room. He let his eyes wander across the room one last time before he stepped back into the cool Oslo night, the thump of bass fading behind him.

He dialed Isak.

Voicemail.

He tried again. Still nothing.

His voice, when he left a message, was lower than usual. Tight.

“Hey… so its been a bit longer than ten minutes.” He let out a breathy chuckle.

“Figured maybe you ran into someone or got caught up, but… yeah. Just checking in. Call me back, okay?”

He hung up, thumb hovering over the screen for a second longer than necessary before he slid the phone into his pocket and started walking again—faster this time.

Back to Jonas and Eskild.

“Okay,” Even said, voice tighter now. “Still no sign of him.”

Jonas straightened. “You checked the backyard?”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

Eskild frowned. “Okay. Let’s split up. He’s probably just... wandered off. Maybe went to get air.”

Even was already moving.

He ducked into every room again—this time faster, more thorough. He pushed open bedroom doors that weren’t his to open, ignored the dirty looks from people mid-makeout. 

Nothing.

He passed Eskild in the hallway. “Anything?”

Eskild shook his head. “Jonas’s checking upstairs. I’ll do another loop outside.”

Even nodded. His jaw clenched. He took breath deep enough to settle the churning in his gut.

Isak was fine.

He’d find him in the next room, tucked into some corner, caught up in a conversation or maybe just charging his phone and not thinking about the time. That’s all.

Even was being ridiculous.

He’s fine.

He had to be.

Still, Even’s legs carried him through the house again, faster this time. A little more desperate. It all felt too big all of a sudden—too full of strangers.

He walked to the bottom of the stairs, calling up softly, “Jonas? Anything?”

Jonas leaned over the bannister. “Checked the bathroom, the upstairs bedrooms. Not up here, sorry.”

Even managed a quick nod of thanks, but his stomach was knotting. He headed toward the back of the house again. Stepped outside.

Cool air hit his face, but it didn’t help.

He wandered along the side of the house, past the trash bins and the fence where a couple people were smoking. One of them glanced up.

Even paused. “Hey — have you seen a guy, blond, kind of short? Hoodie, red cap?”

The guy blinked. “Uh… nah. Sorry, man.”

Even nodded again, more tightly this time, and turned back toward the house.

He pulled his own phone out, checked again.

Still no reply.

He scrolled up to their last text from earlier: a dumb meme Isak had sent during pre-drinks. Even stared at it too long, like it might tell him something.

A sudden sound of glass breaking made him flinch. Just someone dropping a bottle inside. He cursed under his breath, shoved his hands into his pockets and went back inside.

Magnus was coming down the hallway.

“Anything?” 

Magnus shook his head, brows furrowed. “Nothing out back either.”

Even nodded. Tried to breathe. Suppress the nerves curling in his gut.

He’s fine.

Even had checked the same hallway twice already. Maybe three times. Time was blurring.

He passed the kitchen again, glanced toward the back of the house. A flicker of unease tugged at him, and he turned toward the side exit.

He turned the corner.

For a moment, there was nothing.

And then something caught his eye.

Near the back steps, half-tucked into a bush beside the railing—red fabric.

Even’s breath caught. He stepped closer.

It was Isak’s snapback. The one he always wore backwards when he was pretending not to care how good he looked.

Even crouched down and picked it up. The brim was bent sharply out of shape. The edge of it was damp—dew, maybe. Maybe not.

His chest tightened. It felt too quiet all of a sudden. Too still.

Then—

“ EVEN! ”

He jerked upright.

Then he was moving. Fast. Gravel tearing underfoot as he sprinted around the side of the house, the hat clenched in his fist.

Jonas met him at the corner, breathless, eyes wild. “Eskild found him—down the street—he’s—it’s really bad.”

Even didn’t wait for more. He just ran.

Jonas beside him, they sprinted to the end of the block, the bass of the party a distant thud behind them.

A small group of people had circled around at the corner. Even pushed through them roughly. And there he was.

Isak lay on the pavement, curled slightly onto his side. For a second all Even could register was the dark red blood. Dripping from somewhere at his temple onto the pavement below. Pouring from his nose, a split lip. Covering almost his entire face, almost obscuring the giant bruise, swelling across half his face. One eye was swollen shut, the remaining squeezed tightly shut, tears leaking out from the corner.

A broken sound burst from his chest as he dropped to his knees. As he slowly took in more. The long purple bruises on his wrists, fingers . The way his hands were curled against his chest, scraped bloody, the dirt covering his hoody, the rips in his jeans. The tremor that shook his entire form. The very low keen coming from his lips with every exhale.

Eskild was already crouched beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other gently brushing damp hair from his forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eskild was murmuring. “You’re doing so good. Just stay with me. Deep breaths.”

Even felt frozen. He felt sick. “Isak,” he breathed.

Isak’s unswollen eye fluttered open at the sound of his voice. His gaze was unfocused, but it found Even, just barely.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” Even said, his voice breaking despite himself. He reached for Isak’s hand—but stopped.

His left arm was bent wrong. 

Even’s stomach turned. “Shit.”

He shifted, carefully taking Isak’s other hand instead — cold and trembling. Isak made a low sound in his throat—pain, or maybe relief.

Then he saw it.

Just beneath Isak’s jaw, dark smudges. Around the curve of his throat—finger-shaped bruises. Deep and ugly.

Even stared. His breath caught.

His body reacted before his brain could catch up. He turned to the side and retched, hard, until there was nothing left.

Spit and bile hit the pavement as his shoulders shook.

Jonas’s hand was on his back. “Even—hey. Breathe, okay?” Even wiped his mouth on his sleeve, chest heaving. “He needs you right now man.” 

He forced himself to look back, to meet Isak’s gaze—barely open, barely conscious. 

He swallowed hard, the fear still crashing through him like a wave as he stumbled back closer. Grabbing his hand again, whipping the tears and blood carefully from his bruised cheek with his sleeve. “You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.” It felt like a lie. “Just keep looking at me.”  

He felt the tremble in Isak’s fingers. His skin was cold. Blood was pooling slowly beneath his head, dripping down from somewhere between his blonde curls. 

“Has someone called—?”

“Already done,” Eskild said quietly. “They’re on their way. Just stay with him.”

Even leaned in closer, gripping Isak’s hand like it could anchor him there.

“I’m here,” he whispered again. “You’re not going anywhere. You hear me?”

Isak blinked slowly, his mouth trying to form words that didn’t come.

Eskild leaned in, brushing Isak’s hair back gently. “Shh, you’re doing so good.”

Isak’s breathing grew shallower. His eyes fluttered once. Then again.

“No, no, hey,” Even said quickly, tightening his grip on Isak’s hand. “Stay with me. Look at me.”

But Isak’s eyes were already closing.

“Isak!” Even said sharply, panic making his voice sound shrill in his own ears. “ Isak—! ”

It was no use. Sirens came, distant but coming closer. Even sat there, frozen, blinking back tears, holding his hand, brushing dirt from his face like that would keep him awake.

More people were gathered now—faces in the dark, voices hushed, some pulling out their phones. None of it mattered.

All Even could see was Isak.

Chapter Text

Time moved differently in hospitals. Like it bent around the weight of not knowing.

Somewhere between hour three and four, Even had stopped pacing and gone still. Not calm, just emptied out. He sat again, elbows on his knees, the red cap limp in his lap.

Eskild was still beside him. Quiet.

He hadn’t said much since he got there—just rushed in, breathless and pale, and the second he saw Even, pulled him into a hug. Tight and wordless. Even had held on, jaw clenched against the heat behind his eyes, face buried in Eskild’s shoulder.

Now they sat side by side on the hard plastic bench. Eskild’s hands were clasped in his lap, knuckles tight, his knee bouncing every so often.

Even wasn’t especially close with Eskild—not like Isak was—but he’d never seen him this still.

Eventually, Eskild spoke. “He’s stubborn,” he said. “Strong, too. You know that, right?”

Even nodded numbly, not trusting himself to speak, continuing to twist the brim of the stupid cap in his lap.

He inhaled slowly, trying not to spiral. But his mind was already moving—already dragging him backward, whether he wanted it to or not.

To the sirens and flashing lights against brick walls. The clipped voices of EMTs. The sound of scissors slicing through fabric. And that awful spread of color blooming across Isak’s chest.

“I’m—his boyfriend,” he’d said like it meant something. Like it gave him the right to fix any of it.

Isak hadn’t woken up. Not once—not in the street, not in the ambulance. Even had just sat there, one hand clutching the red cap, the other gripping the stretcher rail, too afraid to touch Isak now that there were two EMTs fussing frantically over him.

He blinked hard. Pulled in a shaky breath, leaning into the uncomfortable plastic backrest. Tried to think of anything else.

The night before; Isak curled into him on the bed, breathing warm against his collarbone while a movie neither of them particularly liked played in the background.

Or the kiss on the way to the party. Right in the middle of the street—Even’s hand in his coat pocket, the other curled around the back of Isak’s neck, tangling into Isak’s soft blonde curls. Cold fingers, warm mouths. The look in Isak’s eyes like he was memorizing him. His smile, too. Tight-lipped at first, then open and bright once he forgot to be cool.

Even’s throat ached.

“Even?”

A nurse’s voice broke through the fog.

He stood immediately. “Yes?”

“The surgeon’s ready to speak with you.”

The surgeon was calm. Middle-aged, with a clipped voice and kind eyes. 

“Isak’s surgery went well,” she said. “You’re listed as his emergency contact?”

Even nodded and her eyes flicked over him—just for a second—taking him in with a tight expression. But she didn’t comment.

“Isak’s surgery went well,” she said. “There was internal bleeding from his spleen—most of the damage was confined to that area. We removed a portion of it, and his blood pressure began to stabilize soon after.”

Even nodded again, barely noticing how tightly his fingers had curled into the edge of the chair beneath him. Stabilized. That sounded good.

“His ribs… took a lot of the impact.”

She paused. “Six are fractured, two of them severely. One came close to puncturing his lung, but imaging shows the lung remained intact. It's a painful injury, but not one we can fix surgically. Right now, we’re focused on pain management and monitoring his breathing.”

Even nodded, like it all made sense. Like he was someone who could hear her words and process them rationally. But it all sounded like she was talking about someone else’s Isak. Not his, not the one who had been pressed up warm beside him, laughing, only hours ago.

“There’s a linear skull fracture on his left side. Fortunately, no brain bleed or signs of significant swelling on the CT. That’s really good news.”

He nodded again, too fast this time. One good thing. One thing that hadn’t gone horribly wrong.

“We’re keeping him intubated and sedated for now.”

“Why?” His voice sounded distant.

“There’s some swelling in his upper airway,” she said. “Likely from the strangulation.” That word landed sharp. He flinched.

“We don’t want to risk removing the breathing tube too early and having his airway collapse. Especially not with the rib fractures—that kind of injury already makes breathing more difficult.”

He looked down at his hands. They were shaking again.

“Is that… dangerous?”

“It’s precautionary. We’ll reassess in a few hours. As long as his oxygen levels stay strong and the swelling doesn’t worsen, we can begin weaning him off sedation — maybe sometime this afternoon.”

Even nodded, slowly this time. His throat felt too tight to speak.

“There’s one more thing,” she added gently. “The fracture in his left arm is going to require surgery to set properly. It wasn’t a priority tonight—we wanted to stabilize his vitals first—but once he’s more alert and breathing on his own, we’ll schedule the procedure.”

Something behind his eyes started to sting, but he blinked it back.

“Can I see him?” His voice sounded so much smaller than usual.

The surgeon gave a soft smile. “Once he’s moved from post-op to the ICU, a nurse will come get you. He’s stable enough that that shouldn’t be long.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

She gave a soft smile. “He’s young. Strong. Everything we’re seeing points in a good direction so far.”

And then she was gone, leaving him in the whitewashed quiet, gripping the chair like it was the only solid thing in the room.

The ICU room hummed softly—monitors blinking in quiet rhythm, slow beeps, the whoosh of the ventilator. The lights were dimmed, the air sharp with a sterile alcohol smell that burned a bit in Even’s nose. He had been sitting there for what felt like hours, his eyes fixed on Isak’s pale face. Isak, who lay motionless against the white sheets, his chest rising and falling with a mechanical rhythm. Tape crossed one cheek, securing the breathing tube that curved from between his lips. Dried blood still marked the edge of his hairline, a dark bruise spreading across one side of his face.

He looked small. Smaller than Even had ever seen him.

The hospital gown they’d dressed him in gaped loosely at the shoulders, exposing too much. The bruising was worse in the full light—dark, angry splotches spreading across his chest and collarbone. The imprint of fingers on his neck, too dark against his pale skin. 

A mess of wires spread over his form. An IV in each arm, another line, thicker, stitched in place at his chest. A thin plastic tube running under the blanket, they had said it was some drain. Even didn’t want to think too hard about what it was draining from .

And the worst part—the part Even couldn’t stop looking at—was the rise and fall of Isak’s chest. Mechanical. Not natural. Not his.

He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, only then realizing he was crying again.

A quiet touch settled on his shoulder. “You okay?” the nurse—Cecilie he vaguely recalled offered him a box of tissues with a soft smile.

Even swallowed hard and nodded, quickly taking the tissues and dabbing at his nose. He wasn’t. But it didn’t matter. She gave him a sympathetic smile as she continued to work around him.

She’d been kind. When he had first been allowed in, she took the time to explain what the machines did whenever she caught him staring too long at one of them and had spoken softly when she needed to adjust something. 

And so the hours slipped by. Nurses drifting in and out of the room, the sun began to rise outside again, casting a soft red glow through the window. At some point, Cecilie returned with two other nurses.

“We need to take Isak for some scans,” Cecilie said gently. “Just to check how things are progressing before we consider easing the sedation.”

He nodded, stepped back, letting go of Isak’s hand as they moved around the bed. He watched quietly while they unhooked several lines and carefully began wheeling the bed out into the hallway.

Then they were gone.

The room felt too still without the quiet rhythm of Isak’s assisted breath. Too empty. He sank into the chair again, pulling his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie, gripping the fabric tight. The silence rang in his ears.

He didn’t know how long he waited. Twenty minutes? Thirty? 

When the door finally opened again, he stood up too fast, heart leaping before he could stop it. The bed was rolled back in, Isak still pale, still unmoving. Reaching for his hand again, Even felt something loosen in him just seeing him again.

The machines picked up their quiet rhythm once more.

Cecilie returned not long after. Even turned to her quickly, hope flaring through him before he could talk himself out of it. She met his eyes and offered a smile.

“The scan looks good,” she said. “We’re going to start easing back the sedation.”

Even nodded—once, maybe a little too quickly. “Okay,” he said, the word catching slightly in his throat. He felt his chest constrict with nerves.

“It may take a while,” she added. “But he’s doing well. You can talk to him, if you want. Sometimes that helps.”

She adjusted a setting on the IV pump, then left with a quiet promise to check in soon.

Even sat back down, rubbing his hands once over his face before resting his elbows on the edge of the bed. Careful — so careful — he slid his fingers back under Isak’s palm. It was warm now. 

“Hey,” he said, barely above a whisper. “It’s me. You’re okay. You’re in the hospital, but you’re okay. You’re safe.”

Nothing at first. Just the quiet rhythm of the ventilator. A beat. Another.

Even swallowed. His thumb brushed lightly over Isak’s knuckles. Light, steady. Reassuring, he hoped.

“I’ve been here,” he said, softer now. “All night. I’m not going anywhere.”

Still nothing. Stillness that stretched a little too long.

“You’re kind of scaring the shit out of me, to be honest.”

And then—a flicker.

Even stilled. He wasn’t even sure he’d felt it right. But then Isak’s fingers twitched again, barely, under his own.

He leaned in fast, pulse jumping. “That’s it,” he whispered, voice almost shaking. “Come on, baby. Come back to me.”

Another twitch—this time in his lashes. A tiny, uneven motion of his hand, like he was trying to hold on.

Even tightened his grip gently. “Issy?”

A faint crease formed between Isak’s brows. Then the shallowest breath—not from the machine.

The door opened quietly behind them. Cecilie stepped in, already moving toward the bed.

“I saw his vitals jump,” she said gently, checking the monitor. “Looks like he’s trying to wake.”

Even couldn’t tear his eyes away from Isak. “He moved.”

“That’s a good sign,” she said. “I’m going to check his response. Just stay where you are, sweetheart.”

She leaned over, shining a small penlight into Isak’s eyes, murmuring something Even didn’t quite catch. Then—slowly, carefully—she peeled away the tape holding the breathing tube in place, not pulling it yet, just loosening. Another nurse appeared, snapping gloves on as she moved to the monitors.

Isak shifted again. His face tightened in wince.

Even squeezed his hand lightly. “You’re okay,” he said, lower this time, like if he spoke too loud he might scare him back under. “I’m right here.”

Isak’s eyes cracked open.

Not all the way. Just a sliver. The green beneath was glazed and unfocused, but there.

Even felt everything in him untwist. Some messy combination of relief and panic and awe.

“Hey,” he breathed. “Hi.”

Isak blinked sluggishly. His lips parted slightly around the tube—confused until suddenly his chest hitched. A wet, gagging sound escaped his throat.

“Okay, he’s breathing against the ventilator,” Cecilie said. “Let’s get him off.”

Even stepped back just enough to give them space, but didn’t let go of Isak’s hand.

“Isak,” Cecilie said firmly, her tone calm but commanding. “We’re going to remove the tube. When I tell you, I need you to cough once, okay?”

Isak’s head lolled. His eyes landed on Even, barely tracking.

Even leaned in closer again. “It’s okay,” he said, trying to make his voice steady. “You’re doing great.”

Isak gagged again, body straining weakly against the bed.

The other nurse steadied him. Cecilie peeled the tape back fully.

“Alright, Isak. One, two, three.”

The tube slid out in one awful, wet pull.

Isak choked—then retched, feebly, into the basin the other nurse held beneath his chin. Even squeezed his hand tighter.

“Easy,” Cecilie said gently, wiping a cloth over his mouth with practiced hands when he was done. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

Isak coughed, a weak, cracked sound, his lips trembling. He gasped an inhale but winced sharply, chest shuddering unevenly.

“I know it’s uncomfortable,” Cecilie said. “Broken ribs make it hard, try smaller breaths. Nice and slow.”

Isak’s eyes squeezed shut again as his chest rose unevenly, hitching slightly on each inhale. His fingers squeezed a bit more tightly in Even’s grip. For a moment, he stayed like that: eyes closed, jaw tight, until he seemed to settle into an easier rhythm.

“That’s it.” Cecilie murmured as his eyes fluttered open again. They were still glassy, but they settled on Even immediately as he leaned in with a careful smile.

“Hi baby.” He gently lifted the hand clutched in his, pressing a kiss against the soft skin, careful to avoid the IV. 

Isak blinked once, slowly. His throat bobbed as his lips moved, forming something close to Even’s name, but only a breathy rasp left his mouth.

“Shh,” Even said quickly, gently squeezing his hand. “Don’t talk. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

Isak’s eyelids fluttered like he might pass out again, but he steadied.

“You’re out of surgery,” Even whispered, brushing sweat-damp curls from his forehead. “Everything went well. You scared the hell out of me, but you’re okay now. Just rest.”

For a second, it looked like he might. His eyes stayed half-lidded, his fingers loose in Even’s. Then his chest hitched—sharp and sudden.

Even jerked upright just as a gag tore from Isak’s throat.

Cecilie was there in an instant, basin already under his chin as he vomited weakly. Even leaned in to steady him, one hand bracing his shoulder, the other still gripping his hand tight.

Another sharp heave, then Isak sagged back against the pillow, trembling.

“He’s probably just reacting to the anesthesia,” Cecilie said, calm and efficient as she wiped his mouth and laid out a clean cloth on his chest. “It happens. Especially with abdominal trauma. He’s okay.”

Even nodded, but his jaw stayed tight. His grip on Isak’s hand didn’t ease. 

The second nurse stepped in, injecting something clear into his IV. 

He kept brushing Isak’s hair back, quietly, like it was the only thing he could do. “You’re okay. Just breathe. That’s all you have to do.”

Isak gave a soft, cracked noise—half groan, half whimper.

“I know,” Even whispered. “I know it sucks.” He pressed his lips into the knotted curls carefully. “I’ve got you,” he murmured.

Isak slept lightly for maybe twenty minutes, jaw slack beneath the oxygen mask, lashes dark against pale skin. Even didn’t move from his chair. He just kept hold of his hand, thumb tracing soft, absent circles across the bandage at Isak’s wrist.

But the monitors told a different story.

Cecile frowned slightly as she checked the screen.

“Temp’s climbing. 38.3,” she murmured. “Likely a mild post-op reaction.”

Even glanced up. “Is that... normal?”

“Pretty common after trauma and surgery,” she reassured him. “Especially with a ruptured spleen. It’s not dangerous yet—we’ll manage it.”

Even nodded but kept his eyes on Isak. The flush had started to rise in his cheeks.

He shifted restlessly a few minutes later, letting out a low, broken rasp.

“Isak?” Even leaned forward.

Isak groaned and turned his head away, swallowing hard. Then, suddenly, his whole body tensed.

Cecilie moved fast, grabbing the small basin just as Isak retched again, this time sharper, more forceful than before. The bile that came up was thin, but the effort it took left him gasping, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’ve got you,” Even said quickly, cupping the back of Isak’s neck with a trembling hand while Cecilie steadied the rest of him.

Isak coughed wetly, then gagged again, chest spasming beneath the loose hospital gown. Even felt the tension through his back and ribs—how tight his muscles were beneath the bandaging.

“You’re alright, Is,” he murmured as Isak sagged again, shivering from exertion. “You’re doing so good.”

The nurse gently wiped at Isak’s mouth. “He’ll need fluids— I’ll update the attending.”

Isak’s lips moved, hoarse and dry, but silent as more tears slipped down his cheeks.

Even gritted his teeth. “I know. I know, they’re gonna help.”

A nurse adjusted the IV, hanging a new bag. “He’s getting antiemetics now. And we’ll give him something mild for the fever. He just needs to ride this part out.”

Even nodded, brushing a cold cloth lightly across Isak’s forehead. His skin was too warm now, slick with sweat.

“I’m here,” Even said again. Not sure how many times he’d said it already, but sure it wasn’t enough.

Isak’s eyes opened a sliver. Unfocused, watery. He looked at Even like he wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming.

Even smiled, even though his throat ached. “Not going anywhere.”

Chapter Text

Time doesn’t move right.

Everything feels slow. Heavy. Thick, like he’s underwater. Or wrapped in cotton. His skin burns, but inside, he’s freezing.

There’s something cold under his arms. Neck. Chest. It hurts. The cold hurts. Everything hurts.

He thinks he says something. Maybe just a sound. He doesn’t know if anyone hears.

But it makes something appear. A hand.

Warm. Steady, entwined in his fingers.

Isak tries to lift his head but can’t. Someone brushes his hair back, and he can feel that. The hand, the voice.

“Easy, baby. Just breathe.”

Even.

Isak feels the panic fade just a bit.

Even’s here. He tries to hold on to that.

The mask on his face is too tight. His ribs are too tight. His lungs are too small. He’s breathing like someone else is doing it for him, badly.

A voice near the bed murmurs something. 

Then Even’s voice—closer. Sharper.

“You’ll intubate again?”

The panic sparks somewhere beneath the exhaustion. “No,” he wants to say. No tubes. Please, no.

But he can’t speak. Can’t even open his eyes.

But then Even’s hand is back again.

“You’re doing okay,” he says softly. 

Isak isn’t. But he doesn’t want Even to go. So he squeezes, barely.

His stomach twisted before he could brace.

He turned, barely, and threw up into something cold. Nothing much comes up but the shaking doesn’t stop. His ribs scream when he retches. Something wet is wiped across his mouth.

His head is heavy. Someone’s holding it. Not roughly. Carefully.

Even again.

“It’s ok,” he says. “You’re alright.”

He wants to tell him no, I’m not, this fucking hurts, I’m so tired—but nothing works. His throat is raw. His stomach’s empty. His chest feels cracked open.

And still—Even stays.

It only gets worse.

A spike, sharp, like fire in his chest. His brain couldn’t hold onto anything.

At some point, hands appear on his stomach. Pressure. A voice—female. Doctor.

Then more needles. Ice packs again. He jerked away.

“God, stop—” he wanted to say, but it came out as a groan, half-cry.

Even’s hand caught his face, firm but soft.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Isak whimpered once, but he stopped moving. There was nothing left to fight with.

A cool hand settles on his forehead.

“I know,” Even whispers.

He wants to cry but he’s too tired even for that.

Chapter Text

16:33
The fever kept climbing. 39.2°C. Isak’s skin was flushed and slick, his body curled ever so slightly to the left, as if instinctively guarding the worst of the pain. 

At some point, between unsteady wheezes, an oxygen mask had been put over his face which hissed quietly. The fogging edges of the mask made it harder for Even to see Isak’s face clearly, but that didn’t stop him from keeping his eyes glued to him.

He ran a damp cloth across Isak’s forehead, but it did little to stave off the heat. He hated it. The way Isak trembled in the thin hospital sheets.

At some point, a nurse appeared with a tray of gel ice packs wrapped in cloth, looking too calm for Even’s liking. “We’ll try cooling measures. His vitals are stable enough to wait it out, but we’re watching.”

Even nodded, didn’t ask what not stable enough looks like.

They tucked the cold packs under his arms, against his neck, his groin, and across his chest. Isak’s body stiffened at the touch, his body trembling and jaw clenched tight.

He groaned low in his throat. Wordless, miserable. The sound sent a sharp pang through Even’s chest.

He leaned in close, brushing the sweat-damp curls off Isak’s temple. “You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice low, careful. “It’s just the fever. They’re helping.” 

Isak didn’t respond. Just shuddered again and turned his face toward Even’s voice, eyes shut tight.

17:59


“He’s breathing too shallow again,” one of the nurses murmured over the monitor. “If his oxygen dips lower—”

Even lifted his head, his heart pounding in his chest. He’d heard them discussing options before. “You’ll intubate again?” 

“We’ll reassess in fifteen minutes. Could just be the fever and pain. He’s not actively decompensating.”

Even swallowed hard, his throat tight as if it’s been closed off. “You’ll tell me?”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

Even took his hand again, trying to calm the racing of his own heart. “You’re doing okay.” He whispered down, tried to convince himself it was the truth. 

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against Isak’s, feeling the heat from the fever radiate through his skin. “Just breathe. Don’t stop.”

18:42


Isak threw up again and the sound of his retching made Even’s stomach turn. It was weak, barely more than bile and air. But the strain of it left him trembling even more, his body sagging with exhaustion.

Even quickly grabbed a fresh cloth, wiping the mess from Isak’s mouth as gently as he could, like he'd seen the nurses do. He slid a clean cloth under Isak’s chin, while Isak muttered something too slurred to make sense.

 Even’s heart skipped, as he saw the hazel eyes roll back slightly, the exhaustion pulling him under again.

“Stay with me,” he instead whispered softly, panic in his throat, but he pushed it down, he couldn’t afford to freak out now. Instead, he leaned in close again, brushing his lips against Isak’s burning forehead. “You don’t have to talk. Just breathe. That’s all.”

And he stays there, close enough to feel every shudder that runs through Isak’s body. His thumb runs over the back of Isak’s hand, soothing in the only way he can.

20:05


The fever peaked at 40.5°C.

Even could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he stared at the numbers on the monitor. He didn’t want to let himself think about how high that was, or how weak Isak was beneath him, sweating and trembling.

Not soon after, the doctor came in. She checked his abdomen carefully, pulling back bandages and pressing on bruised skin. Isak just stiffened in response, body twitching away from her touch with low groans. 

She murmured something about peritonitis and infection risk. Even barely caught it; the words didn’t sink in. He was too caught up in the way Isak’s face was twisted with discomfort.

They changed the cooling packs again and Even could hear Isak’s low whine of protest rattle through his chest. He flinched as he saw Isak trying to move away from the cold touch, not really having the strength to fight, but he still tried, his limbs trembling with the effort.

Even leaned down, gently cupping Isak’s face with one hand, catching him before he could move too far. “I know,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Isak whimpered in response, his body still trembling, but he stopped fighting after that.

21:11


His temperature was falling. 38.6°C and dropping. Still high, but not critical anymore. Every fraction of a degree felt like a victory. 

Isak’s breathing evened out, slow and shallow but steady. The rapid, desperate rises and falls had slowed, each breath coming with just a little more ease, a little less fight. The monitors, which had been chirping every ten minutes, were finally silent. 

For the first time in hours, the air felt less heavy, less suffocating. The worst had passed, and yet Even still found it hard to breathe, as if the weight of all that fear was still pressing down on his ribs.

He slumped forward in the chair, forehead resting lightly against Isak’s arm, his own body exhausted in a way that he couldn’t quite name. He hadn’t moved for what felt like forever, his whole body locked in a state of tension. The moment his head rested against Isak’s skin, a wave of dizziness hit him.He hadn’t realized how tightly wound he was until now, until his body finally allowed itself to let go.

A nurse tiptoed in. Checked vitals. She smiled, barely. “Looks like he’s through the worst of it.”

Even exhaled, the sound so deep it felt like it had been stuck in his chest for hours. 

22:24


The room was quiet.

Isak’s face was slack with exhausted sleep, his brow relaxed for the first time in hours, the sharp lines of pain smoothed away. His chest rose and fell, steady now, under the oxygen mask. The rhythm was softer than it had been, deeper, the breath coming with more ease. The strain, the panic, was gone. 

No more ice packs, no more shaking. Even’s hand hadn’t left his. Not for a single moment.

He sat there, unmoving, letting the stillness of the room settle around them until he finally let himself lean back in the chair. His shoulders were stiff, his legs cramped from being in the same position for far too long, but for the first time, he allowed himself to feel it.

He took one last look at the monitors. Everything was holding. 

His eyes closed. Only for a second, he told himself. The steady beeping of the monitors was the last thing he heard before everything else faded into quiet.

Chapter Text

Even stirred awake to the soft creak of the door and the brush of footsteps against the linoleum. He lifted his head from where his cheek pressed against his forearm. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest position to sleep in, he considered as his neck and back immediately protested at the motion.

A nurse had crossed the room quietly to the monitors, tapping at the screen.

Even blinked the sleep from his eyes, as he tried to roll out the stiffness in his bones. Isak was still asleep, propped carefully on his side now with a pillow at his back. 

She glanced over, giving Even a soft smile. “Able to get some sleep, honey?”

“Sort of,” Even said, voice thick. He rubbed his face with both hands, glanced back at Isak. 

She nodded. “Well, I think Isak got some good rest too, looks like his temperature is back to normal.” She smiled at Even. “You did good, keeping him calm last night.”

Even shook his head, pushing the night’s panic to the back of his mind. He knew if he let himself think about it all for just a second too long, his carefully crafted facade would crumble. “I didn’t do anything.” His voice sounded flat.

“But he knew you were here.” She squeezed his shoulder before slipping back out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

He leaned back in the chair, and was almost on his way to falling asleep again when there was a quiet knock and the door opened again. It was Eskild, followed by Jonas. A small wave of relief ran through him at the familiar faces.

“Hey.” Even pushed himself to his feet, feeling surprisingly unsteady once upright.

But within seconds, Eskild had already crossed the room and pulled him into a firm hug. He collapsed into it a bit, the warmth of it all suddenly having him fighting back against the burning behind his eyes.

“God, you look like shit,” Eskild murmured into his shoulder and squeezed tighter, while Even carefully blinked back the wetness threatening to pool in his eyes. And they stayed like that, until his breath steadied again against Eskild’s ear and he finally pulled back to study him more clearly. “You’re okay?”

It was somewhere between a question and a statement, and Even just nodded, letting himself slump back down into the chair.

Jonas was standing beside him and Even could see the wave of emotions dancing across his face as he looked at Isak. “How’s he doing?” 

Even blew out a tired breath. “Better now. Yesterday after the surgery was kinda rough.”

Jonas nodded. “Yeah they told us when we tried to visit.”

“Oh. You were here?” He suddenly realized that he hadn’t even considered what everyone else was doing in the last 24 hours. The past day in the ICU had felt like he was in his own little universe. Just him and Isak and oxygen levels and rising temperatures and three different kinds of nausea meds, the constant beeping, the way Isak's forehead had burned every time he had pressed his lips there, the fear in his chest when he thought—

Even swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts down, forcing his brain to slow before it started spinning.

“Fuck, sorry. I— I didn’t even think to check my phone. It’s just... It’s been a lot.” He rubbed his face, forcing himself to sound steady.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Eskild put a grounding hand on his shoulder. “You had more important things on your mind.”

Even nodded, but the silence in the room felt like it was starting to stretch too long. He let his head lean back a little in the chair, the weight of everything starting to press on him.

Jonas glanced at him, then asked, almost casually, "When was the last time you ate?"

Even shook his head, avoiding the two worried gazes that had since settled on him. “I’m not really hungry.”

Eskild gave him a look. “That wasn’t the question, darling.”

Even huffed out a short laugh, but it faded almost immediately. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the cafeteria. Breakfast is on me.” Jonas nodded toward the door but Even tightened his grip on the chair beneath him. 

“I can’t.”  His gaze flickered back to Isak, still breathing, still resting. “I can’t leave him.”

“Even, you’ve been here all night. Nothing will happen if you step away for a few minutes.”

Even’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away from Isak. “What if he wakes up? What if he wakes up and I’m not there and…” The thought made him feel slightly sick.

“I’ll stay. I’ll be right here. If anything changes, I’ll call you and you can come straight back.” Eskild’s voice sounded much too calm in his ears.

“But-” Even’s voice caught.

“You’re no good to him if you’re running on empty, man. You can’t help him if you’re pass out from exhaustion.” Jonas’s words were blunt.

Even swallowed hard, his eyes still locked on the rise and fall of Isak’s chest beneath the thin hospital blanket.

“I know,” he muttered barely above a whisper, fingers flexing against the edge of the chair. Because deep down he knew they were right. He blew out a soft breath.

“Okay,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Fine. Ten minutes.” 

Jonas and Eskild exchanged a look of relief, that he barely registered.

“C’mon,” Jonas pulled him up, gently guiding him toward the door. “Twenty minutes. Get some food, breathe a little. Isak will still be here.”

The cafeteria smelled like a strange mix between food and too much bleach. Its bright lights made Even squint.

He sat in front of a plate of toast, fruit, and scrambled eggs, which Jonas had insisted on but that he had no real intention of eating.

They sat in silence for a minute while he poked at the food. Jonas across from him with a paper coffee cup between his hands, watching him almost too carefully until he took a slow bite. It tasted like nothing.

He was a few more bites in when Jonas broke the silence. “So… no one’s talked to you yet, right?”

Even glanced up, slightly confused. “What do you mean?”

“Like, the police.”

Even shook his head slowly. “You’ve talked to them?”

“Yeah,” Jonas said, taking a sip from his cup. “Friday night. Gave them your number, they said they’d reach out.”

Even frowned as he pushed around a piece of banana on the plate. “Do they know anything yet?”

He never really considered himself a resentful person, but somewhere beneath all of the fear that had pooled in his gut in the past day, he felt a pit of anger hiding beneath. For what may have been the first time in his life, he really wanted someone to pay for what they’d done.

Jonas quickly glanced down at his cup. “Not yet. I think they’re still investigating.” 

Even frowned as Jonas continued to avoid his gaze. “But you know something?” 

Jonas looked up at him carefully. “No…not really.” 

“Not really?” he demanded.

Jonas chewed on his lower lip, clearly wrestling with how much to say. He looked down again, then finally sighed. “It’s just… the officers we talked to didn’t exactly leave the best impression.”

Even’s frown deepened. “What the hell does that mean?”

Jonas looked down at his coffee, considering his words before he spoke. “Just that me and Sana and some people are also looking into things.” 

He still refused to meet Even’s gaze. “But what’s the issue with them?”

Jonas hesitated for a long beat before speaking again. His tone was quieter, more cautious. “Look, don’t stress about it, okay? Just focus on Isak right now. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” Even’s voice was sharp and he couldn’t stop the frustration from leaking into his tone.

Jonas ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath. “Look, we overheard them talking as they were leaving. They were... saying some homophobic shit, Even.”

“What kind of shit?” Even’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Even…there’s no point. It’ll just upset you.” There was something akin to pity in his eyes.

“I’m already upset Jonas.” He grit out. “Tell me.”

Jonas swallowed, clearly hesitant. “They said something like... ‘Faggot deserved it.’” He winced, like even saying it out loud made him sick.

Even’s blood went ice-cold. “They said that ?” His voice came out hoarse, tight.

Jonas nodded, looking down at his cup again, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. I don’t know, man. But Sana’s already filed a complaint with the department. They’ll keep doing their job. And we’re looking into other things on our side too.”

Even’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, hands curled into fists on the table. His food suddenly looked even more unappetizing than it had 5 minutes ago. “So what do you know so far?” 

Jonas hesitated, rubbing the rim of his coffee cup again. He looked torn. “Even... I’m not sure if this is the right time for all of this.”

The frustration inside him nearly boiled over. This is exactly the right time  he wanted to shout. But the rational part within him knew that Jonas was probably right. He couldn’t focus on this right now. He looked back down instead, counted to ten.

The half eaten tray was still in front of him but he suddenly couldn’t stand the sight of it. The egg smell hit him and turned his stomach sideways.

He pushed it away, hard enough to scrape across the table.

Jonas reached out instinctively. “Even—”

He stood abruptly, chair legs screeching.

“I’m going back up.”

“Even,” Jonas said again, rising too. “At least finish your fo—”

“I’m not hungry.”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

Even quickly found that waiting with Eskild and Jonas in the room was much better than waiting alone. It’s not that they spoke much with each other, but maybe the quiet felt a bit less heavy when it wasn’t just his.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when something shifted on the bed. His head snapped up.

Isak was still, breathing softly against white pillows, but one hand was moving under the blanket, fingers twitching.

Even leaned in fast, Jonas and Eskild crowding closer. “Isak?” 

They all seemed to hold their breaths, as the blonde’s head tilted slowly toward his voice.

“Isak. Hey.” Even reached for his hand, warm and so familiar. “I’m here baby.” He watched quietly as Isak’s face pulled into a soft frown, eyelids slowly fluttering.

“That’s it.” He whispered, “You’re okay.”

“Ev…en?” It came out slurred and raspy, but clear enough to make Even’s throat tighten.

“Yeah,” he said, squeezing his hand. “I’m here, Is. With Jonas and Eskild.”

Isak’s brows pinched, as his eyes moved around the room slowly until settling on Even again. He blinked slowly, tiredly. “What…happened?” The uncertainty in his voice made something tighten deep in Even’s chest.

He opened his mouth, then closed again. The words stuck in his throat.

It was Eskild who answered, his voice gentler than Even had ever heard it. “You got hurt, honey. At the party. But you’re safe now, okay? You’re in the hospital, and they’re taking care of you.”

Isak frowned at that, his gaze slipping toward the ceiling. For a long moment, the only sound was the slow drag of his breathing.

“How’re you feeling?” Jonas asked carefully.

Isak’s hand shifted in Even’s. “Tired…” 

Even smoothed his thumb over Isak’s knuckles, fighting to keep his voice steady. “That’s alright. You can rest. We’ll be right here when you wake up again.”

Isak’s lashes lifted, slow and heavy, his gaze pulling back to Even. “You…okay?” 

The words felt like they cut straight through him. Even blinked fast, his chest tightening. “Me?”

Of course Isak would notice, even like this. Even felt his throat go tight. Because no, I’m not. I’ve been terrified. I thought I lost you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this—

He forced all of it down, leaning in instead to press his forehead to Isak’s. “I’m fine, baby.” 

He brushed a soft kiss against his temple, letting his lips linger there. Slowly, he felt the tension ease from Isak’s grip. His face softened, a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before his eyelids sank shut again.

Even stayed leaned in, listening as the breaths beneath him deepened into sleep. He didn’t even realize there were tears slipping down his cheeks until his breath hitched hard, his whole body jolting with the sob he couldn’t choke back. He pushed his face further against Isak’s curls, trying to quiet it, but the sound kept shaking free, his breath stuttering out in ragged gasps.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he let himself fold into it. Let himself be guided back until his face was buried in Eskild’s shirt, the sobs still clawing out of his chest, the sound so unlike him he barely recognized it.

He shook his head against the fabric. “I—I don’t know why I’m—he’s fine now, there’s no reason—” His words broke apart. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, this is so stupid.”

A hand was rubbing circles on his back.”Hey, this isn’t stupid. This is totally normal. Just let it out.” 

Even tried to nod, tried to breathe past the heaving mess in his chest. When he finally pulled back from Eskild, he cringed at the wet, snotty, mess it left behind on the fabric.

“S-sorry.” But Eskild was already shushing him, using his sleeves to wipe away the remaining wetness from his cheeks.

“Don’t apologize.You’re doing fine.” Jonas said from beside him and Even sniffed gratefully, gaze finally landing on the younger boy, who was crouched beside them. 

At first, he almost didn’t register it. Jonas’s eyes were red, his lashes clumped. He wasn’t even trying to hide it, just sitting there, eyes wet and glassy, jaw clenched, hand still resting on Even’s back.

Even’s chest tightened at the sight. He had never seen Jonas cry before.

Jonas quickly cleared his throat, voice low, a little rough. “But everything’s gonna be okay now.”

Even blinked, swallowing hard, letting the words sink in. He nodded once, shaky, and leaned back a little against his steadying hand.

The next time Isak’s eyes fluttered open, Jonas and Eskild were in the middle of a quiet argument about what show to leave playing on the small TV mounted to the wall. 

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Jonas muttered.

“Honestly? I think I’d rather die than watch Fast & Furious,” Eskild said, voice quiet as he rolled his eyes.

Even ignored them, leaning close, when he noticed him stirring. “Hey… you awake a little?”

Isak blinked slowly, focusing just enough to nod. His voice was hoarse. “Morning…?”

“More like afternoon, sleeping beauty,” Even teased, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his hand.

It caught the other’s attention and Jonas came up beside them. “Hey, did we wake you?”

“Nah, ’s fine.” Isak glanced between him and Eskild. His eyes finally had that awake spark that had been missing in the past day and it made Even’s heart beat a little easier.  “And don’t…get him started.”

“What, baby?” Even brushed back the hair from his forehead gently.

“ ’ve heard Eskild hate speech on Fast & Furious too many times already.” Isak rasped out.

Eskild threw up his hands dramatically. “Hate speech? It’s just called the truth! And I’ll say it again if I have to: explosions are not entertainment and muscles are not a plot.”

The corner of Isak’s mouth twitched up and despite looking completely tired and bruised and in pain the small smirk still managed to melt a piece of Even’s heart. 

Jonas rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair. “It’s about fun, man! You can’t tell me car chases aren’t entertaining.”

“Actually, I can. They’re not.” Eskild deadpanned at Jonas before turning to Isak. “See? Back me up, Is. You don’t want that kind of nonsense rotting your brain, do you?”

Isak let out a low, raspy laugh as Jonas let out a groan that didn’t quite sound genuine. “Unbelievable,” he shook his head.

Isak blinked, heavy-lidded eyes at the flickering TV. “Don’t care. Just… nothing with cars.”

“Ha!” Eskild immediately began flipping through the channels much too fast for Isak’s tired brain to comprehend.

He skipped past a cooking show, some soap opera reruns, then landed on a nature documentary: sweeping shots of penguins trudging through snow.

“There we go,” Eskild said, clutching his chest. “Finally, some culture.”

Jonas huffed. “Yeah, real edge-of-your-seat stuff.”

Isak let out another tired little laugh, eyes slipping closed again. “Better than cars.”

“Better than cars,” Even echoed quietly, leaning in to press a kiss to his hairline.

The TV softly droned on as they all sat around. Isak’s eyes had slipped shut again at one point, but his hand squeezed weakly in Even’s every time their voices rose.

The quiet peace was only interrupted by a knock at the door, before it opened to reveal a tall woman in scrubs with a white coat thrown over. 

“Hi there,” she said and Even vaguely recognized her from the very first night after the surgery. She offered a polite smile as she stepped in. “I’m Dr. Rønning, I just wanted to check in now that he’s more responsive.” Her gaze landed on Isak, then flicked to Even, Jonas, and Eskild in turn.

Isak stirred faintly at the sound of a new voice, lashes fluttering as he blinked up at the ceiling. Even leaned closer quickly, brushing his thumb over his hand. “Hey, baby. Doctor’s here, okay? Just for a quick talk.”

Isak made a faint noise of acknowledgement, head tilting toward the voices.

“Good,” Dr. Rønning said gently, stepping to the bedside. “Isak, it’s nice to finally see you awake. I know you’re probably still tired, I just want to check in with you, see how you’re doing, explain what’s been going on and what the next steps are, alright?”

Isak nodded and his hand shifted to the side, reaching. Even quickly squeezed it in his.

“Before I go into everything,” she said gently, “do you want your friends to stay while we talk? Or would you rather it just be you and your partner?”

Isak blinked slowly, still heavy-lidded, then turned his gaze toward Jonas and Eskild. Isak’s eyes moved between them, lingering on Jonas for a second, before slipping back to Even. His voice was quiet, rough: “Can you guys…wait outside? Just for this part.”

Jonas nodded instantly, no hesitation, though Even caught the flicker of worry in his expression before he smoothed it away. Eskild squeezed Isak’s foot through the blanket gently before standing. “We’ll be right outside.”

When the door closed behind them, Isak turned his face into the pillow for a moment, before dragging his gaze back up to Even. His fingers tightened around his hand, as though to anchor himself.

“Okay,” he whispered and Dr. Rønning moved closer to the bed, chart in hand. “First off, how’re you feeling?”

Isak slowly considered the question before answering quietly. “…Tired. And… everything’s kind of sore.”

She nodded reassuringly. “That’s totally normal, Isak. Your body’s been through a lot and we’ve got you on some pretty strong pain killers, but if at any point something doesn’t feel right or hurts more, don’t hesitate to call a nurse, okay?” 

Isak’s head barely moving in a faint nod

“Good,” she said, keeping her tone gentle, like she was talking to a child. Hell, he still is Even  thought. “Now, I want to walk you through what happened and where we are.”

“So, you were brought in Friday night after sustaining some pretty significant injuries. Your spleen was ruptured, which was our biggest immediate concern,” she said. “We removed part of it during surgery and were able to get you stabilized pretty quickly.”

Even studied Isak carefully. The blonde gave a small nod, eyes flicking up toward Even briefly. He did his best to give a reassuring smile.

“Six of your ribs are fractured,” she continued. “You’re probably noticing some pain and tightness around that area, especially with deep breaths or movement. That should start to feel better over the next few weeks, but full recovery will probably take a couple of months.”

She flipped over the paper on the chart in her hands. Even squeezed the warm hand in his tighter, and Isak looked at him again, teeth pulling at his lower lip. 

“There’s a linear fracture on the left side of your skull,” she continued, keeping her voice calm. “As far as we can tell, you were really lucky. There were no signs of bleeding or significant swelling on the brain scans, but head injuries can be a bit tricky so you should watch for any new symptoms. And if anything changes—worsening headache, nausea, vomiting, confusion, or vision changes at any point over the next few weeks, we definitely should get it checked.”

She paused for a second, “You doing okay, dear?” She joined Even in studying Isak’s face carefully who was looking a bit pale, blending more and more into the white sheets he was laying on. But Isak nodded stiffly, still gnawing on his lower lip.

“If you have questions at any point, just stop me. You too, Even.” It took him a bit by surprise that she knew his name.

“The last big thing we need to talk about is your arm.” She motioned to the blue brace at his side. We stabilized it overnight to make sure nothing shifted, but it will need surgery to set it properly. We’re planning to do that later today now that you're fully alert again.”

“T-today?” the question was small and Even could hear the slight wavering in it. On the screen behind the bed, he saw the flashing of Isak’s pulse slowly going up.

“Yes, it’s a very safe procedure. A lot simpler and quicker than what we did on Friday. And the earlier we can do it, the easier the recovery will be.”

Isak’s eyes flicked down to his arm, then back to Even. His voice was even quieter now. “Afterwards — waking up…” he swallowed carefully. “Will it…be like last time?” 

Even cringed. He’d kind of hoped that Isak would be spared from remembering the fevered haze right after the surgery. But of course he would have no such luck.

The doctor nodded. “There were some complications waking up on Saturday. You had major abdominal surgery and along with everything else, your body was reacting to going through some significant trauma. But with the arm, it’ll be a lot less invasive and things should go a lot smoother.”

Isak let out a small, shaky breath. “Okay,” he said, but it sounded thin, not quite convincing.. Even tightened his grip as he felt the slightest tremor against his fingers.

“I know this can all be a bit scary.” She gave a sympathetic smile. “But this is the last big step and after that it’s all rest and recovery.”

Isak’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he managed a faint, “Yeah.”

She held his eyes for a moment before continuing gently. “If you’re feeling overwhelmed and want to talk to somebody, I can also have a colleague from psych stop by before the procedure.”

Isak stayed silent, looking down at his and Even’s intertwined fingers.

“Otherwise, we already have someone scheduled to stop by after the surgery and talk with you about everything that’s been going on.”

Isak hesitated, eyes flicking toward Even before dropping back down. “…Maybe after,” he murmured, voice tight.

“Of course,” she said warmly. “Unless you have any more questions for me, that’s all from my side.”

She hesitated for a moment, glancing between Even and Isak before straightening. “In that case, I'll go let your two friends back in.” 

She stepped over to the door when Isak spoke up, “Actually…can we have a minute? Just us?”

“Of course, I’ll let them know.” She eased the door open and slipped out, leaving the two of them alone.

Even looked down at Isak in the quiet. He’d seen Isak tired before. Although his insomnia had become much better since they’d moved in together months ago, there were still days where he would wake up to Isak totally exhausted, reluctantly admitting that he’d barely managed to get an hour of sleep. Yet even the worst of those days could not compete with how tired he looked now. 

The blue circles beneath his eyes almost matched the colorful bruises splotched across his cheekbone. Even’s thumb hovered for a moment before brushing gently over the smooth skin beneath the bruises, tracing the line of his jaw, letting himself get lost in the dark brown of Isak’s exhausted eyes.

“You ok?” he whispered finally.

Isak shrugged with one shoulder, throat bobbing. Even waited, kept brushing his thumb up and down against the slight roughness of stubble beginning to form. 

“It’s ok,” he said when Isak didn’t break the silence after a few minutes. “I’m scared too.”

Isak let out a shaky breath, looking at him with glistening eyes. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” Even let out a breathy laugh. “Fucking terrified actually.” He quickly moved his hands from Isak’s jaw to instead wipe the wetness on his cheeks. “But everything’s gonna be ok.”

Isak nodded, blinked more silent tears down his cheeks until Even leaned in, gently pressing their lips together. “We’ll get through this,” he murmured, and gave him another soft kiss. “Together.”