Chapter Text
The light, the insistent light that had flooded Jan’s room this morning and begged for her to wake up finally got to her. She blinked open eyelids still sticky with last night’s makeup, rolled onto her side.
Jan peeked in the direction of the alarm clock next to her bed. She groaned in frustration at the sight: things and stuff and junk cluttering the nightstand. She pawed at the mess lazily, knocking things off the table, not caring too much for whatever fragile objects could have possibly been damaged from the fall. What day is it, even?
13:34, she read, bright green glowing on the now clear surface. Eh. Not great, but not the latest she’d woken up this very week. She rolled out of bed and slumped against the floor in a poorly calculated move, wincing and yelping at the bruises certainly forming on her knees and the cold sensation of an empty beer can crushing under her weight.
The idea of cleaning up her space drew a loud and deep groan from her as she pulled herself up from the floor. Too early for this shit. She reached blindly at the floor until she grabbed a pair of bottoms close to her—short, tight shorts—and slipped her legs through the holes, awkwardly jumping in place as she pulled them up.
She dragged her feet to the kitchen, feeling a little self-conscious about the loudness of her steps, the weight of her legs. Too early. Coffee.
Grabbing the pot of coffee grounds she had left on the counter, she made her way to the shitty espresso machine she’d gotten for what at the time seemed like a reasonable price from one of her neighbours. Turned out the damn thing constantly got grounds clogged and leaked from the tank. It was whatever, she convinced herself.
Jan leaned on the counter as her coffee was brewing. The machine sputtered and roared in a way that would cause concern to anyone else. She was not sick of living like this, she convinced many others and then herself. She took whatever scraps of independence she could get away with (and comfortably handle). It was something temporary, anyway; some day, she would settle down with a man who would treat her like she deserved, and he’d buy her a really nice coffee machine. In the meantime, she enjoyed the carelessness of youth.
Then, the doorbell rang, loud and clear, and it had been so long since Jan had heard this sound that she stood frozen for a few seconds before realizing.
“Who the fuck–” she asked out loud. If it was fucking Øystein coming to bother her for some inane nonsense, she swore—though the possibility felt slim, no way she’d make time in her busy schedule to see Jan in person instead of summoning her via phone call.
Jan’s first instinct was to reach for the door, angry as she was about being disturbed at what was an entirely reasonable hour for anyone else, but her mind stopped her as she remembered that she really wasn’t wearing much—which wasn’t really an issue, she supposed, anyone should be grateful to see her thighs, but in that moment, a rare bout of modesty surged through her. She ran back into her room and picked up a pair of skinny jeans off the floor to slip into, pulling them up over her shorts, half-heartedly hoping that whoever was at the door, they’d be patient enough to wait for her to answer.
“Coming,” Jan shouted at the person, even though she was not sure if they could actually hear her. She unlocked the door not without some difficulty—her hands were trembling, for reasons unknown even to her—and opened it to quite a strange sight.
She blinked.
“Uh. Hi,” Jørn greeted her. Jørn, in flesh and bone. There were knots in the tree bark of her hair and deep blackened lines under her clear eyes, but otherwise, it was her. Shit, Jan hadn’t seen her in, what, a couple months? She had left Mayhem after that whole thing, Pelle and Øystein and the photos and all, and, well, Jan had simply assumed that Jørn was done with her too by association.
Her first instinct was to chew her out for fucking off without a word for her. It was tempting, but something in her appearance led her to opt for a more diplomatic alternative.
“Long time no see,” Jan said, still a little incredulous.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Jørn shook her head. “Well I mean, I’m sorry for not—saying anything. Leaving you and stuff. That wasn’t, uh, good, of me,” she apologized, much to Jan’s surprise.
“Aw, it’s okay,” and Jan felt all her antipathy melt away, as though she could ever bear being mean to such a pathetic looking creature—to her face, anyway. She drew the door behind her nearly closed, to keep the warmth in. “How are you? How have you been, you know, since-”
“I manage,” Jørn grimaced, or maybe attempted to smile. It was clear her heart wasn’t in it.
“Oh, sweetie,” and Jan’s gaze softened out of pity.
“But. Um, look, I know it’s kind of a lot to ask of you, but could I stay here for some time?” Jørn looked away, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
“Oh.” And Jan didn’t really stop to think about food, or space, or the fact that this was quite the heavy request from someone who had the nerve to dip for ages without a word, or anything logistical; Jørn looked like a fucking wreck. Not that she was particularly well put together most of the time, she’s always had a kind of sloppy, lazy way about her presentation, but she’d known the girl long enough to tell. “Sure... What’s wrong?”
“Can I explain later? I’m really sorry,” Jørn reached for a strand of her own hair and pulled on it, her stare returning to her feet.
“Yeah, of course…” Damn, must have been really bad if even Jørn couldn’t immediately start complaining about her situation. “You wanna come in? I made coffee,” Jan invited her. Really, she made coffee for herself, but she was willing to split the cup—yet another manifestation of her boundless generosity, she flattered herself.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll have some, if that’s okay with you,” Jørn accepted, none the wiser.
Jan gestured for the girl to follow her inside, and she complied, keeping her big jacket on. Jan watched for a moment as Jørn’s eyes darted around, taking in the sights that were new to her. Clothes and trash strewn on the floor and all. If her mother were here, she’d surely try to make her feel ashamed about the state of her home.
“By the way, how did you get my address?” Jan inquired as she transferred some coffee to another cup. It wasn’t weird that Jørn had found out, she just thought it’d be good to make small talk for now.
“I have my ways,” Jørn simply replied. “Uh. Well, y’know, I just asked around. Nice place you’ve got here,” and Jan couldn’t tell if Jørn was being sarcastic.
Still, she sat down at the only chair at the kitchen table. She accepted the half-cup of coffee that Jan handed to her, even if it dripped a little on the side, and took a sip of the now lukewarm drink.
Jørn drank the coffee in silence for what felt like an eternity to Jan.
“My boyfriend and I broke up,” Jørn suddenly dropped without buildup. She took another small sip of coffee as though it all meant nothing to her.
“What??”
“Yeah. That’s sorta why I don’t wanna stay at my place. I mean—he’s gone already. I just don’t want to be there.” Jørn placed the cup on the table, staring straight ahead into nothing in particular. Then, she seemed to spring back to life, shaking her head and raising her stare back to Jan. “Well. Uh, so is it actually settled? I can stay here? You can still say no, you know.” She fidgeted with her fingers.
Jan had really thought, well, it was serious serious between Jørn and her boyfriend. Enough for her to leave Mayhem behind. And, yeah, maybe she’d felt a little wounded by it, at the time, but she figured it was only natural. One day, she supposed that she’d do the same.
“Uh,” Jan began, still a little lost for words. Not just about the new information, but about how Jørn had somehow held onto it for, what, thirty minutes? If it were Jan it had happened to, whoever she had decided to bless with her presence would know in a matter of seconds. “Well, duh,” she reaffirmed, still not thinking much.
“Alright. Um, thank you so much,” Jørn said, quietly. “Hold on, I need to go for a smoke,” she stood up and pushed the chair back in.
“Oh, I mean, you can just smoke in here, if you want. I don’t care,” Jan brushed it off with a lazy hand gesture.
“I care,” Jørn spoke up. “Uh. I think I just need to go outside again. Sorry, I’m just—very, uh, restless.” And it was undeniably true.
“Ah, yeah, of course, let me just–” and this time Jan grabbed a proper jacket from the hanger. Although, Jørn hadn’t asked Jan to come with her, so briefly she wondered if she was right to assume. Ah, fuck it. If she didn’t want her there, she shouldn’t have showed up to her place. She gestured for her to follow her through the open door once more.
The two girls sat side by side on the concrete steps. Jørn lit up a cigarette, the motions of her hands eternally familiar to Jan, as comfortably worn out as her leather jacket. She nearly dropped it, her grip shaky and slippery.
And Jan couldn't not feel at least a little worry about all that, she couldn't be blamed for following her into the abyss of her insomnia. It was contagious.
Jørn exhaled loudly into the coldness of late autumn.
"I'm sorry, Jan," she articulated slowly. Paused for a while. It seemed to pain her to even open her mouth. "I've just had… a lot on my shoulders, lately."
"Yeah, I can see that…" Jan said, simply.
Something had shifted in the air—perhaps it was only a cloud lazily stretching out to cover the sun.
Was she forgetting something? Jan felt like she was forgetting something. Since Jørn was no help she tried to form a timeline by herself. She felt the slightest, so very slightest pang of guilt at the realization that she hadn’t thought much about someone she considered her friend in the time she’d been gone—but the feeling dissipated with ease. So, she had left after being done with Øystein’s bullshit, right, Øystein, telling her how Jørn was a sentimental wimp, her and her loser boyfriend—Right, shit, her boyfriend, what if something else had happened with him? Weren’t they going to–
Realization hit her with heart palpitations when it all started to make sense, her sickly appearance, her oversized jacket that blocked out her midsection.
She snatched the lit cigarette from Jørn's hands and received an angered shriek in response.
"Hey, what the fuck??”
"Dude, you, what the fuck," Jan responded with all the indignation in her body. "The baby?? You're not supposed to–"
And the colour drained from Jørn's face at the simple word. Her hand fell limply to her side.
"Jan, I'm not pregnant."
Holy shit. Had she gotten it wrong? Wait, no, there’s no way she’d gotten it wrong, no, fuck, she must have—miscarried, or something–
"What?” The words all tried to come out of Jan’s mouth at once. “I, oh my God, did you lose it? I'm so–"
"No, no, it's not–" Jørn ran her hands over her face, a loud sigh audible from behind the curtain of her hair. "It wasn't like that, I– I terminated it."
Ohhhh. Shit, Jan really should have pieced that together herself.
"What? Why?" and though she'd been searching for real answers she couldn't help herself. "Couldn't give up drinking and smoking for nine months?" she joked, and immediately winced at herself. Not the time, you fucking genius.
To her surprise, Jørn took it well. "You know me," she rolled her eyes and didn't even try to repress a small smile.
And even though it was not her right it stirred something odd inside of Jan. She felt—behind, somehow. Like Jørn was living in a different world from hers, a world she hadn't even known existed. For the first time she really conceptualized her as a woman.
A responsible—well, maybe not that, but an adult. At the very least.
Jørn continued. "But, I guess, I don't know. I just realized some stuff. Or I just don't know what I want." She flicked the ash off her reclaimed cigarette onto the concrete sidewalk.
"What kinda stuff?" and oh, maybe you could have called Jan out for being nosy, then. No, she was just making conversation. She was being a good friend. A good friend to someone who disappeared from her life for a couple months, but. Still.
Jørn shrugged evasively. "Stuff," she simply repeated.
"Oh. Alright," and Jan let it go, externally. She was sure it wasn't going to take her too much digging to find out. She turned her head away, as though she was willing to change the topic. "You've not told Øystein?" she asked, with maybe a bit of malicious intent if you were to really ask her about it.
"Fuck, no! Knowing her crazy ass she'd show up at my door asking me why I haven't sent her the fetus, for, I don't know, fucking ritual purposes," Jørn’s voice came out more animated, seemingly relieved from Jan moving on.
“Pfft. Right, she’s only one minor inconvenience away from spraying her period blood all over the door to Helvete,” Jan joked along (although she wouldn’t be surprised if the idea had indeed crossed Øystein’s mind before).
“Ew.” Jørn grimaced and dropped her cigarette on the pavement before putting it out with the sole of her boot.
Relief washed over Jan as she realized that some of the tension between her and Jørn seemed to have melted away. The moments of silence had recovered a certain familiarity to them, the one they had before.
“So, you wanna get settled in?” she asked Jørn, lightly kicking her feet against the ground.
“Oh—yeah. Uh, I just have to grab some stuff from the apartment. Since—well I just need clothes and stuff,” Jørn said with a gesture towards the door. “Since I’ll be staying here.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Jan raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’ll be okay in there?”
“Yeah. It won’t take too long, it’s just the ride that’s lengthy. I don’t have a car,” Jørn explained with a wince. “So, I don’t know when I’ll be back, but it’ll be by sundown,” she said, glancing at the sky. “Probably.”
“See you later, then,” Jan waved at Jørn as she got up on her feet and made her way down the street.
Jan was alone, again. She figured she’d take some time to clean up. Well, just a little bit. Back into her room, she pushed her bed completely against the corner, trying to make space for–
Shit, she realized she did not have a backup mattress for her guest. She looked around as though she’d find anything new and stepped out into the living room again. She did have a ratty couch. Space on it was tight but Jørn could fit on it easily. But then—she felt like a horrible host for inflicting the couch on Jørn. She surely deserved better.
Jan was no closer to a proper solution when Jørn came back, hours later, with the excuse of having stopped for lunch on the way back. By then, the sun had already gone down—days getting dramatically shorter this time of the year and all. She helped Jørn haul a surprisingly heavy duffel bag into the room. The bag was nearly half as long as Jørn was tall, and Jan might have made a joke about how Jørn could fit her tiny body inside if the little voice of comparison hadn’t stopped her.
“So, uh, you have a place for me in here? To sleep, I mean,” Jørn asked as she entered Jan’s room—now with significantly fewer clothes and empty cans littered on the floor.
“You can sleep with me?’ Jan suggested, her heart racing, for whatever odd reason. “I mean, sleep in my bed. With me. Uh,” she rushed to clarify, as though it was a strange thing she was saying, as though they hadn’t spent many nights in the same cramped bed together, which was normal, teenage girl activities, “I mean you can take the couch if you want to, but you know, we’ve done it before so it’s not,” shit, she really couldn’t say the right thing, huh. Was there a new boundary that had formed between the two of them? Could a few months really change that much?
Jørn smiled faintly. “I don’t mind. I mean, I don’t mind—the bed. I don’t mind the couch either, but,” and Jan felt at least a little reassured at the thought that Jørn felt as awkward as her, “you’re offering, so–”
“And we can just talk about it! If you want… It’ll be just like old times,” Jan suggested, feeling just a little silly about calling those times old. But today held a distinct shape, one Jan could not imagine existing outside of the days stretching out ahead of her. No, it was a new era, and those times were old.
“Old times,” Jørn repeated with a chuckle as though she could read her mind. “Sure. I feel a little better now, thank you,” she said, sitting down on the edge of Jan's bed.
“Alright! Well, I’ll let you get settled and stuff,” Jan flipped her hair over her shoulder and left with a smile.
Jan rushed to the kitchen to pull out the six-pack sitting right in the middle of the comically empty shelf inside the fridge. She pushed the door closed without making any mental note to restock it anytime soon.
When Jan came back into the room, Jørn was already laying in bed, her arms gently folded over her torso like she was afraid of taking up space. To slip in next to her, hiding her feet under the blanket was a motion that Jan had practiced countless times before. She shuffled next to the other girl, trying to break down the barrier a little further, and reached to the ground to grab a bottle and offer it to Jørn, who wasted no time and sat up to take a swig.
“So, what’s been going on, on your side?” Jørn asked to open up the conversation again.
Jan rattled her mind for something noteworthy to relay to Jørn before settling on one of her new, favourite targets for mockery. “Øystein… she’s been, you know, hanging out with this girl—this fucking freak from Bergen, Varg, they exchanged letters a lot… um, but–”
“Oh yeah, her. I don’t really know much about her… she’s also a musician, right?” Perhaps Jørn wasn’t really all that interested in Øystein‘s new entourage, but Jan thought that it might distract her from her own issues. Not that they weren’t important, but, still.
“Yeah, she has her own band and she insists on doing everything herself,” Jan recalled. “As if she weren’t constantly sucking up to Øystein. Fuck, you should hear her drumming! It’s so clunky and clumsy… I still let her use my kit though, because I’m so kindhearted and generous,” she couldn’t help but chuckle, a humorous tone in her voice.
“And humble,” Jørn playfully elbowed her in the ribs.
“Pfft. Watch her come back begging for an actually talented person to handle the drums once she realizes her toddler-on-pots-and-pans approach won’t cut it for something more polished than a demo,” Jan said with smugness that she felt was totally earned. She really was good, even Jørn had to admit, and Jan was happy to pick up for her friend’s slack.
“So I’m not missing out on anything, then,” Jørn deduced—hoped, maybe. Though she claimed that she was content with her decisions, all of them, Jan wondered if she felt a little strange about being separated from the “scene.” For her legacy to be a footnote while Øystein was hellbent on making history. Hell, even Jan herself felt more and more like she faded into the background, even standing directly next to Øystein. For such a small woman she seemed to take up the entire room. Her and her little—big—sidekick.
“Only on her deranged ramblings about traditional womanhood and marriage… see, I don’t even think she’s inherently wrong or anything!” she clarified, trying to get to the main reason for her snark. “But she’s too desperate, guys don’t like desperate girls. She’s so tall, too, like, she towers over everyone. Hah, I wish her luck finding any man who would tolerate her.” The words came out meaner than Jan really intended, but it felt good to say. Call her cruel, she wasn’t the worst. By a wide margin.
“Huh.” Jørn simply turned her head away and didn’t add anything to that.
Shit. Jan could feel Jørn growing colder. She felt like she’d messed up, somehow. Perhaps talking about Øystein was not the best idea.
She cleared her throat. “So, um, your boyfriend—is it okay to talk about that?”
“Uh-huh,” Jørn mumbled, not too convincingly.
“Well, um, so, was he–”
“Look, I know what you're gonna say, but, no, nothing like that. If anything, he was too kind to me,” she said, her voice low. “It’s really not his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know, Jan. Something’s wrong with me.” She took a deep breath, held it in, held it in a little longer, and then exhaled.
Something that Jan had noticed about her friend… her friend? was it still right to call her that? was that she seldom cried—in front of her, anyway. It was alien to Jan, who happily cried whenever the occasion presented itself. There was nothing she couldn’t get out of with some easily summoned tears. It was simply… natural. Hormonal.
“Aww,” and it never came naturally to her, but Jan searched for words of comfort to give her friend(?), “there’s nothing wrong with you…” Jan turned on her side and let her hand reach out to caress the contours of Jørn’s soft face. Her thumb stroked her cheekbone gently, as though she were wiping an invisible tear off her skin, a girly, friendly gesture.
Jørn closed her eyes at the touch, took a deep breath again. When she opened her eyes, she was staring into Jan’s with something new in her look. “I wouldn’t trust these words from you,” Jørn replied with the biggest shit-eating grin spreading across her face.
“What!!” Jan retracted her hand and quickly brought it back closer to her own body as well as she could from this position. “Be fucking nice to me! You’re in my house! I’ll kick you out if you’re mean,” she shouted, turning to the other side and crossing her arms.
Jørn on the other side burst into laughter. “Nooooo, please,” she almost sang, in a low and dramatic tone. “You love meeeee… you couldn’t do that to meeee…” though she was playing along, it was almost hopeful, a quiet opening to let Jan reaffirm that there was still love there.
“I do love you,” Jan took that opening, her expression softening even though Jørn couldn’t see it from this angle. She turned back to face the other girl again. “Bitch.”
“I’ll take it,” Jørn looked at her with genuine fondness in her eyes, a familiar look that Jan hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. Her features slowly darkened. “But, you know. Just feels like I’m not enough. It’s whatever, though. Just don’t know if I can deal with all that right now. Not on my own.”
Jan nodded slowly, letting the silence speak for her. It felt right to say nothing and let the words sit there.
“I quit my job, too,” Jørn sighed, letting go of one more burden. “I don’t really know what I’m gonna do. I just—I have no idea. I feel like I have to change, just, everything around me for things to start making sense again. I don’t know if I’m even making any,” she laughed dryly. She raised her arms to prop her head slightly, shifting to a more comfortable position.
And Jan really couldn’t shake the feeling that her friend was not telling her everything. Still, she shuffled closer to her, a strange impulse. So close she immersed herself in Jørn, all of her. The scent of her sweat, the one she had always found oddly pleasant, the bitter beer on her breath, the faint trace of the lavender soap her clothes had been washed with.
It really felt like before, then. Jan shivered.
The tear could be mended, and Jan extended her arm over Jørn’s body as her thread and needle. Pulled her closer once more and held her, like nothing had ever happened and they were still two best friends gossiping about whatever. Jørn’s split ends tickled her nose.
For the first time ever, Jan felt somewhat self-conscious about the way her body pressed into Jørn’s bony frame. “Uh, sorry, tell me if I’m crushing you,” she murmured.
“Mmm, no, it’s fine. It’s,” and she paused, swallowed, and when she spoke again her voice was shaky, uncertain, “real nice. You’re soft. It’s… comforting.” She went back to silence, though Jan could feel the odd pattern of her breathing. “Can I sleep?” she asked after a minute or two.
“Yeah, of course. Sleep well.”
“‘Night,” she yawned.
Jørn’s breath evened out, so painfully slowly. Jan hoped that she had at least taken some of her worries away, perhaps simply by touching her and absorbing them through her skin, or something silly like that. What she could see of her face through the darkness looked somewhat more peaceful now, at least compared to the anguished twisting of her features earlier.
What an odd feeling to see her again.
Not only to see her again, she supposed, feeling a spike of embarrassment at her proposal to share a bed earlier. And yet—here Jørn was, in Jan’s arms, cuddling her as though she were her long-lost lover and they were reunited at last. Not like her lover, no—Jan cringed at her own thoughts. These were not thoughts suitable for a grown woman to have.
Ah, well. Maybe she needed to get laid. That must have been what she was craving, she thought, bringing Jørn’s warm body closer to hers. She felt small in her arms, smaller than Jan remembered.
Her thoughts went back to all the conversations the two had had earlier. All this new information wasn’t settling well in Jan’s mind. Most importantly, she couldn’t for the life of her picture Jørn pregnant. Pregnant, of all things. It felt fake, but she knew Jørn couldn’t commit to a bit for this long.
The unease grew in her again. What if it had happened to her, instead? She’d have made the same choice as Jørn, at first thought. But then–
Wasn’t this an end goal for Jan? To settle down? Was this not what would be wanted of her eventually? For a parasite to grow, stretch her skin out, push and pull and make her partially digested food crawl back up in her throat, and–
She held onto Jørn tighter.
Sleep came to her predictably late.