Chapter Text
Isak woke up to the sound of Eskild’s ringtone playing at full volume. He opened his eyes and regretted it immediately, grimacing at the searing bright light leaking through his window. Fumbling around with his eyes half open for his phone, which was tangled in the sheets somewhere, he groaned. Why couldn’t the world just leave him along for one more day? Let him sleep and laze around the house and not worry about the papers that needed writing or the dishes that needed washing.
Pulling the phone from his rumpled sheets, he answered Eskild’s call with a groggy, “Hello?”
“Isak, good morning!” Eskild’s cheery voice sang. “Was someone still asleep? For shame.”
“No,” Isak lied, “I was just taking a break from homework. What’s up?”
“Get ready, because we are going out!” Eskild said.
“What? Who?”
“We,” Eskild emphasized. “You, Noora, moi- Not Linn, she has a family thing, but she’s incredibly jealous that we get to go.”
“Wuh- where? Now?”
“Yes, now! Well, as soon as I come back- there’s an art show going on later today and Noora and I want to go- well, I want to go and I texted Noora and she’s coming too-“
Ugh, his head was starting to hurt.
“-and you’ve been spending more time in your room than is healthy, quite frankly, so we’re making you come too! We’ll get coffee right before from this indie place that opened up a few months ago so we can be extra hipster-y. I hear it helps you enjoy the abstract… whatever it is,” Eskild laughed.
“Uh,” Isak grimaced and rubbed at his still bleary eyes with his free hand. “I- uh, don’t think I can. I have a lot of work and-“
“No, hu-uh, don’t care, absolutely not, you are coming. We haven’t seen you out of sweatpants and that atrocious beanie in forever-“
He was still wearing his grey sweats, old graphic tee, and his beat up blue beanie right now, in fact. He fell asleep in them last night. And maybe the night before, who could remember?
“-This is mandatory or we are kicking you out, got it? It states clearly in your lease that you must be a functioning member of society once a month or your contract is null and void.”
It was true, Isak hadn’t left the apartment except for school at all the last week, and some days not even then. He’d shrugged off invitations from Magnus and Jonas. He was in a- something, who knew what. But most of his time was spent listening to music or avoiding homework, avoiding his flat-mates, avoiding his parents who still sent texts even though he rarely answered (or never in his mother’s case).
Isak knew Eskild would never actually evict him but he also knew he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t go out with them today. It was just a shitty art show, right? Show up for an hour, pretend to care about shading or whatever, then leave early.
“Uh- whatever, yeah.”
“Yay! Okay I’ll text you the address of the coffee place and you can meet us in an hour. Be ready! Oh, and for the love of god, Isak, run a brush through your hair or something- try, pretty please.” Eskild hung up.
Isak checked the time. It was 13:21 on a Saturday. Fuck, how long had he slept?
Isak got out of bed with heavy limbs, tossing his grey sheets to the side. It was still unbearably bright and the sun was doing nothing to help his half-formed headache, so Isak shut his light blue curtains before sifting through his “clean” (or, rather, not noticeably dirty) clothes, he picked out some jeans, underwear, and his light grey shirt with the rolled up sleeves and headed off to shower and get ready- and if he snuck a bit of style gel into his hair, well, no one had to know about that.
--
The place where Eskild wanted to meet was new and Isak had never been there before- it wasn't the kind of joint where he and his friends usually hung out.
The outside of the shop was simple, a large window with minimal decoration, a standing sign out front announcing the specials of the day in multi-colored chalk with a quirky drawing of a barista holding a muffin, and a bright yellow sign above the shop itself with brown ornate lettering that read "Fersk."
The shop bell ting’d lightly as Isak walked in and was greeted by the sight gently worn wooden floors and counter tops, small uniform tables with mix-matched chairs of all styles, sizes, and colors. The place was maybe half filled, with only a few tabled claimed.
There was a large bookshelf to the far end of the shop, filled with worn and new books and some board games. The counter was home to sample size cups and a decent sized display cabinet of what looked like freshly made snacks. A light, sweet acoustic song Isak had never heard played in the background and he looked around for Eskild and Noora, coming up empty. The coffee shop was only one room, and not very large, so they hadn’t shown up yet.
It was a little warm, so he pulled to loosen his red scarf and shoved his gloves in the pockets of his olive green jacket. He might as well get a drink while he waited before the already long line got any worse.
He got in line and looked at the menu above the front counter, also written in colorful chalk with little bits of stylized cartoon art here and there, matching the sign outside. He was still considering it as he inched forward, stuck between two drinks that both sounded equally good on that cold afternoon.
Isak was so consumed by his internal struggle- cinnamon frappe with extra whipped cream? Or chocolate latte?- that he didn’t realize when he had reached the front or when the barista behind the counter cleared his throat the first time. Or the second. It wasn’t until he heard the “Are you ready to order?” that he snapped his attention from the board above his head to the man at the register in front of him, realizing that it was his turn.
Whoops. That was embarrassing. He blushed a bit at his inattention.
What was even more embarrassing was how cute the barista was. Isak rarely let himself think this way- he hated knowing that if anyone ever found out- if any guy ever found out when he thought they were attractive- then they’d probably think he was gross. Or creepy. Maybe both.
But man, this guy. His blond hair was done up with product that made it absolutely defy gravity, his jaw was wide and strong, his pale, high cheekbones sharp underneath eyes that were a light blue with a playful expression that looked permanently fixed on his face- and his lips, Jesus Christ.
Fuck he was staring. And shit, the guy could tell, he could totally tell, with the way he quirked his mouth a bit and raised his eyebrows at Isak just a little. Not in annoyance, but in a look that said he could tell what Isak was thinking, in a look that said “yeah, and…?”
“Uh- yeah. Um,” Isak stumbled over his words. “Uh- cinnamon. Frappe. Extra whipped cream,” he said stiffly. After an awkward pause he added, “please.”
The barista- Even, his nametag said- rang him up and asked his name.
“Isak,” he answered a little quietly, looking down and over and anywhere but at Even because he would probably stare and that would be too gay. Guys didn’t stare at each other- even if they did have really, really good bone structure.
“Okay, Isak,” Even smiled- fuck- and handed him the receipt and change. Isak didn’t dare flinch at the contact of Even’s fingers against his hand but he was probably blushing- god, why did he blush so easy?- so he turned around as quickly as he could and went to sit down at a vacant table with enough room for Eskild and Noora to join him when they got there.
He tripped in his rush to get to the worn yellow chair closest to him. Just a little stumble, but when he set his stuff down and glanced at the counter again, he saw Even trying to hide a smirk and decidedly not looking at Isak in a way that meant he totally saw and was totally laughing at him.
Fuck.
Isak officially regretted stepping outside of his room that day. He buried himself in his phone and refused to look up until Eskild and Noora arrived.
“Hello, there,” Eskild said loudly as he and Noora spotted Isak and went to join him. Eskild bent over and wrapped his arms around Isak’s shoulders from behind, hugging him hello. Isak shrugged him off half heartedly and greeted them both in return as they sat down with him.
“So- this thing today,” Isak started.
“Oh the art show,” Eskild lit up. “It’s going to be so amazing- I met one of the artists today and his work is amazing.”
“What Eskild means to say,” Noora rolled her eyes, “is that he hit on one of the artists today and got invited so we have to come as his wing men.”
Isak groaned. “Wait, this is all so you can get laid? Eskild.”
“No!” the older boy shot back, clutching his heart in an overly dramatic fashion. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d bring you out to this amazing art galla just so I could get laid.” He stood up to get in line and Noora went with him. As he started walking away he shot over his shoulder, “I’m bringing you so I can get a date, its totally different! He’s a keeper, Isak!”
Isak scoffed lightly and checked his phone again. Then glanced at the counter. They hadn’t called his name yet, which was weird. He’d ordered a little while ago, and several people from behind him had gotten their orders already. There wasn’t much of a line at that point so Noora and Eskild ordered quickly and rejoined him.
They chatted for a bit and both Noora and Eskild’s names were called by one of the young female baristas. Isak glanced around the front counter again, looking for Even for the first time since he embarrassed himself earlier. He was nowhere in sight. Maybe he’d gone on break or something while Isak was too ashamed to look up from his phone earlier.
As his friends brought their drinks back and fastened on to-go lids Eskild asked if he’d ordered anything.
“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t know what’s taking so long, it was just a frappe.”
“Well the show starts soon, maybe you should ask. We can’t be late!” Eskild insisted. Noora giggled as she blew the steam off her drink.
“Isak,” a deep voice called from the counter and Isak muttered “finally” as he picked up his bag and stalked over to go get it.
And there Even was again, miraculously. He stood on the other side of the pick up counter, his drink in hand. He gave Isak a lazy smile that brought out the dimple on his chin and handed a dumbfounded- but totally playing it cool- Isak his drink.
Isak mumbled his thanks and Even returned that with an “enjoy your day” and Isak couldn’t quite look away fast enough from Even’s bright eyes and did he just bite his lip a little holy shit. Isak turned away and hoped his face wasn’t as red as his scarf as he left the shop with his friends.
--
“But did you see that cutie at the counter, my God,” Eskild laughed, walking along the sidewalk on Isak’s left. They were almost to the little art gallery and Eskild and Noora had been talking about the shop and how nice it was, but of course Eskild just had to comment on Even, because he was Eskild. He had no subtlety about him and couldn’t keep his mouth shut, ever.
“Why do you always have to talk about this kind of stuff?” Isak muttered.
Noora scoffed as Eskild rolled his eyes. “Because he was hot? Isak you could just learn not to make a big deal out of people being attractive,” Noora said from his other side.
“I’m not,” Isak insisted, his eyes on the ground. God he just wanted them to stop talking about boys- he was such an awful liar and he knew it so every time the subject came up he couldn’t help but think that this was it this was how they found out. Especially when he couldn’t stop thinking about the cute barista they were talking about and how Isak made an idiot of himself in front of him. “You guys are the ones making a big deal out of it.”
“Sure thing,” Eskild said in that voice, the one that made Isak wonder if he knew, if he could see through Isak’s complaints and annoyance with his stupid “gaydar” he claimed was so great.
“Whatever,” Isak said as they came up on the building where the art show was. It was a small art gallery and the first floor had been cleared out for the show pieces, lots of big abstract paintings on the wall and some oddly shaped pottery sitting on stands in the middle of the room. Only a handful of people were there, and when Eskild locked eyes with one man in a conversation with several older people, he dragged Noora and Isak over and made introductions.
Isak wasn’t particularly paying attention to the conversation about whatever-his-name-was’s art. He glanced around, still nursing the now lukewarm coffee in his hand, as everyone commented on things about the painting next to them that went right over his head.
Isak switched the coffee cup from one hand to the other, fiddling in boredom, when he noticed something written on the cup he had overlooked before, in his rush to get out of the shop earlier.
His order was written on the side of the cup in sharp letters, and then his name, and then next to that was a little drawing, about the size of his thumb, in the same style of cartoon-ish doodle that had covered the signs around the coffee shop. It was drawing of himself, Isak realized. Of his curly hair and his face half tucked into his scarf in embarrassment, his eyes downcast. Cartoon Isak looked down shyly, but his hand was up in a wave, and a little speech bubble on the side of the drawing said “hello..”
His heart jumped just a little as he looked at it. Who had done that? Had it been the barista boy who caught him staring- twice- who had smirked when he tripped? Had Even taken the time to doodle him on this cup? Maybe that was why the drink took so long. But Isak shot the thought down- maybe it was a thing the coffee shop did as a little gimmick. The place had the same style drawings all over the place, on the front sign and the menu and even on a poster or two on the wall. They probably had every barista draw on every cup.
But as Isak snuck glances at the cups still in his friends’ hands, he couldn’t help but notice that there weren’t little cartoon Nooras or Eskilds on their cups next to their names, or little cartoon anythings.
Just his.