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5 times Isak and Even meet by coincidence and know it is meant to be.
“Tell me, do you genuinely believe a bunch of Isaks and Evens exist in a variety of endless parallel universes just like us?”
Isak looked up from the notes he had been immersed in and flicked his gaze over a shoulder to take in his boyfriend sitting at the head of his bed, leaning against the wall for support with a book in his lap. Isak took a second to admire the other’s soft features and wondered how he could ever deserve a compassionate and caring, all-around wonderful guy like him.
“Honestly?” Isak turned onto his back and sat up on the bed. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?” Even was gnawing at his lower lip and Isak knew the response bothered him, stressed him out even, although he tried not to show it. It was adorable how much thought he put into it, how much it still meant to him; all those things Isak told him such a long time ago.
“I do in fact think that for every parallel universe, there is an Isak and an Even that exist in each and every one of them, I just think they all simply don’t coexist simultaneously in time and space.”
“So, you mean to say those Isaks and Evens don’t necessarily cross each other’s paths?”
Isak smiled softly when he caught a hint of sadness pass through Even’s eyes that vanished just as fast as it appeared. Crawling along the mattress, Isak settled next to the boy and made himself comfortable until their thighs touched, his hand seeking out the other’s, their fingers intertwining.
“No. I mean that the several Isaks and Evens don’t all gyrate in their universes under the same terms.” Isak looked Even straight in the eyes, holding his gaze with intent. “While some Isaks and Evens have already met, others are in the process of doing so right now or are still waiting for that to happen, for them to meet.”
“But, they do eventually meet?” He knew what it meant, when Even squeezed his hand a bit tighter.
“Always.” Isak believed it with every fibre of his body and soul. “They always meet.”
Oslo, Norway | 12th October 2006
[19 years old, 21 years old]
“Eskild, how many times are you going to try tricking me into buying you wine? It’s not going to happen.” Isak sighed, his breath coming in puffs in the humid, chilly air as he walked down the sidewalk, the scarf that was wrapped around his neck three times barely keeping him warm. It had been raining throughout the whole day, and even though the rain had turned into a light drizzle by this point, Isak was glad he decided on taking an umbrella with him.
“Nei, I said I would be going grocery shopping and asked, if you needed anything. Needed being the key word here, and before you say otherwise … no, you don’t need wine. You WANT wine, there’s a difference.” Isak reprimanded his obnoxious roommate, but since he ended his words on a laugh, it lost the desired effect, and he honestly could not help it. Eskild was a quirky and nosy bastard, harbouring a really big heart for those he truly cared about, so even though Isak found it annoying to share an apartment with him most of the time, the big oaf kind of grew on him. “Besides, you never want just any wine. You always want the most expensive bottles, and I’m not paying for those.”
Isak rounded the corner to go down a main shopping street, just about two blocks away from the grocery store he was headed to. The day was slowly but firmly beginning to set, the evening on the horizon, yet despite the weather, a surprising number of people were out, moving up and down the streets with their colourful umbrellas.
“Look, last chance. You need anything from the grocery store or not?” Isak said as he balanced the phone against his ear, his cold fingers grazing the tip of his ear. “Sliced bread and a pack of gum. Got it.” Isak wheezed through his teeth. “Nei, I don’t think I should be long, so … ser deg snart, I guess.”
Caught up in the conversation, Isak was not particularly focused on his surroundings; otherwise he might have heard the fast-paced thumping of sneakers against the ground that had come around the same corner he had and were going straight for him. Isak barely managed to end the call, his phone still in hand, when another hand wrapped itself around his wrist and pulled him until his back pressed up against a wall. Perplexed as to what had just happened, he could feel his hand still clutching the phone now pressing into his chest, the foreign hand still wrapped around the wrist, and another body, albeit taller than his, which almost glued itself to his front. Somehow, he managed to hold onto the umbrella throughout the entire incident.
Isak was just about to scream bloody murder, when he felt a warm breath against the side of his face and a voice, softer than expected, that whispered ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but please … stay still’. And, he did. Isak stood frozen from the shock and stared blankly in front of him, past a head of hair that was fairly similar to his in colour, but looked smoother to the touch, when he saw three teenage boys run down the street in a bundle of uncoordinated limbs, most probably coming from the same direction and shouting some words at each other he could not make out. He watched them disappear in the distance, eventually getting lost between other people. When his wildly beating heart calmed down, he became aware of the breath that kept sweeping across his jawline since the stranger’s head was tucked almost entirely against his neck without touching, but hiding the unfamiliar face all the same.
Before Isak could convince himself to open his mouth and say something to discharge the tension building around them or have the stranger leave his personal space, the person leaned away from his form, until a face came into view. The boy in front of him could not be much older than he was, pale skin bringing out the moles scattered across his face, with lips that seemed incredibly soft, almost fragile. Isak would be lying, if he said he was not even more tongue-tied now, when he could admire such an image before him. The boy smiled at him, slowly if not carefully. He was gorgeous.
“I’m sorry I scared you like that. I hope I didn’t hurt you by ... you know ...” he half shrugged and motioned to the wall of the building Isak was currently being pressed into. Still being pressed into. Apparently also still without the ability to speak, because he was just blinking up at the other, mouth slightly open and noting coming out of it. The boy seemed a little uncomfortable, maybe embarrassed even, because he cringed slightly and looked down for a moment, before bringing his eyes back to Isak’s.
“Yeah, I have no good explanation for this … I kind of got into a fight with a bunch of idiots, who were picking on my younger sister at school, and since violence is basically the only language they understand, I had to resort to my fists to do the talking. ” Oh, that’s what this was. It all made a lot more sense now.
The umbrella was throwing shade onto the boy’s face, making it difficult to determine the colour of his eyes, but Isak noted that they were big, and under the right one he could see a slight swelling, which would soon give way for a nice and dark bruise to set in.
“You should …” When he finally spoke, Isak found his throat to be rather raspy and coughed to clear it, although not very subtly. “Um … you should probably get that treated.” He motioned to the eye, if the stare he kept giving it was not indication enough, and the boy casually smirked, like it did not bother him at all.
“It probably looks worse than it is.” He tucked one hand into his pocket, resting the other on the wall beside Isak’s shoulder. “Trust me, you should see the guy, whose nose I may or may not have smashed in, and ―” He stopped abruptly, as though realizing what he had said, and it almost looked like his cheeks were beginning to colour too. “I am so not helping my situation with this. Faen.” He was blushing. Huh, so it may not be just one-sided. Knowing that, Isak dared to be a bit more confident, when he spoke again.
“And, what situation would that be?” The boy before him relaxed a bit, but seemed somewhat tense still.
“The I-think-you-are-the-most-beautiful-person-I-got-to-run-into-and-I-want-to-ask-you-out situation. It’s a pretty shity place to be, considering I look like a giant thug right now.”
“What?” Isak was not entirely sure he heard him right.
The boy’s smile turned kind and a little anxious, but his hand left the pocket of his jeans to venture somewhere near his head, and it was then that Isak noticed that he had been holding the umbrella askew and water that gathered there ran down it, soaking his clad shoulder. The other was trying to catch most of it with his hand and Isak just might have internally swooned a bit at the gesture.
“I would like to take you out for coffee, at least to thank you and explain myself properly. I have ulterior motives for taking you on that coffee, of course, but they would not be exploited unless you’d wish to.” He offered with what seemed to be casual attitude, but was really not. “I’m Even, by the way.”
Isak would lie and pretend afterwards that he had hesitated, that the moment it took him to answer lasted several minutes, the time ticking away as he stared at the boy’s features, memorizing them, his heart in his throat and beating frantically, his face unnaturally hot. It actually took only seconds for him to respond.
“Isak.” He said it only a moment later, just before he smiled sincerely at Even. “And coffee … coffee sounds good. Ulterior motives included.”
Later on, Isak would also insist that Even’s responding smile, bright and all teeth, did not blind him at all.
Needless to say, Isak was late and forgot Eskild’s sliced bread and gum. And normally, Eskild would have been overdramatically pissed at the teen, but he threw that out the window when he found his younger roommate outside their apartment door, snogging a very handsome boy with a shiner. He had a good excuse, and Eskild wanted to hear all about that excuse.
Marseille, France | 8th February 1951
[27 years old, 29 years old]
“Mr Valtersen.” The captain greeted him with a respectful nod of the head, falling in step with Isak as both of them made their way down one of the underground corridors. “I do apologize for interrupting your work with such a fickle affair, but the boss was otherwise occupied and meant he would recognize your decision on the matter.”
That’s what you get, when your mother decides to get involved with the head of a Milieu family. Isak had no idea how it all began, but from what he was told, his mother had been a simple Frenchwoman from the working class, when she met his father in the 1920s, and Isak was only 3 years old, when she passed away from influenza. As a child he had tried to ask his father more about her, eventually resorting to several other ‘family’ members for any information, when his parent refused him answers. It was all very vague, since no one wanted to tell him anything specific, only things such as ‘you have your mother’s eyes and nose; she was a beautiful woman’, ‘she adored the theatre; couldn’t stop talking about it’ or ‘you were truly the light of her life’. For Isak all that did was make him feel even more estranged from his mother, as though she was merely a plastic image he would never be able to bring to life.
When Isak was 15, he became familiar with ‘the concept’ of prostitution the Milieu was involved in for at least the last two decades and concluded it had something to do with the unanswered questions about his mother. He never tried to confirm his suspicions, burying them together with the identity of his parent. Another thing he became extremely familiar with was the family business he was and would be a part of in the future. Even though Isak’s father had three children in total, he was the only son and sole heir to ascend to his position as the head of the Valtersen family. Groomed from the age of twelve, when he received his first handgun, Isak became the underboss or second-in-command at the tender age of 22. He was grateful criminal activities shifted its major focus from prostitution to drug trafficking by the time that happened, because although he refrained from becoming a user himself, he was much more comfortable with that niche as oppose to the former, for obvious reasons.
“It’s never simply a fickle affair, now is it?” Isak stopped in front of a solid steel door, turning to address the captain in question, said person watching him expectantly, but reserved as it was customary. With a hand on the doorknob, Isak paused for an additional moment, casting a final look in the other’s direction. “And exactly how many times do I need to tell you to stop calling me Mr Valtersen? It makes me sound incredibly old.” It makes me sound like my father.
The door was open barely enough for Isak to step over its threshold into the brightly lit room, when he heard the exchange of words. ‘You would, wouldn’t you? Though that’s just because your IQ is below 58.’ It was a completely unrecognizable voice, so Isak presumed it came from the person strapped to the chair, the only piece of furniture in the room, concealed by three bulky soldiers in variations of black. The only thing he could see were the legs of the chair and those of the figure, peeking out from behind the others.
‘What?’ One of the men was unmistakably puzzled by the individual’s offensive comment, while another merely grunted at the response of the first one. ‘He’s saying you’re dumb, you idiot.’ Isak saw the swing of the first soldier’s hand, only hearing his fist colliding with what he presumed was the face of the guy tied to the chair.
“Stop.” Isak announced his presence, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dress pants while he made his way further into the room. “ça suffit.”
The men turned their attention to him, acknowledging him with slightly resigned postures and respectfully lowering their heads. Isak recognized the three men he had to deal with before, however it was the suddenly visible person, momentarily sagged forward in the chair, scruffy hair obstructing a good view of his face, Isak had never seen prior to this particular incident. He also noticed the blood dripping onto the ground at his feet, indicating he either had a split lip or a broken nose.
“Excusez-moi, messieurs … but as far as I remember, we established something very important the last time we had the pleasure of working together, didn’t we?” Isak did not pretend to be subtle, not anymore at least. He tried to hold back a little at first, but eventually he became known for his sarcastic and snarky comments, especially when he was being pissed off. “No damage should be caused to the interrogatee until a higher-up, in this case moi, can assess their situation and grant permission for bodily harm, oui?”
“Je suis désolé, but he asked for it, sir.” The response came from the IQ-lower-than-58 one, who was coincidentally also the largest one of them all.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Isak moved closer to the man in particular, but kept his eyes on the defenceless guy a few feet away. “Now clear the room. I need to speak to him without your intimidating frames lurking in the background.”
“Sir, I don’t think that’s a smart―” Isak pulled his handgun, a Colt M1911A1, from where it was tucked on the inside of his blazer and aimed it at the man’s meaty neck in a matter of milliseconds, inclined at the perfect angle for a clear, but fatal shot. The soldier was frozen still, though not stunned as much as he could have been, had Isak otherwise not been infamous for his outrageous backlashes.
“You see, I didn’t really ask for your thoughts on the matter.” Isak squinted, staring the other down, his lips in a tight line. “I am clearly more than capable of defending myself, so I suggest you shut your trap and get the fuck out of here.”
Fortunately, the men did not need to be told twice since they retreated immediately and shut the door behind them, which left Isak and the other guy immersed in an eerie silence. Isak observed that it was in fact a young man, with soft features that were still partially hidden behind the strands that fell into his face. He was dressed in respectable clothes, so Isak guessed he was not from an ordinary clan.
“I’m not going to lie – it takes a lot of guts to talk back to a bulky imbecile like him.” The dull thumping of Isak’s shoes as he moved around was the only other sound in the room, apart from his voice that stood out from the shallow breathing of the other, until that person let out what seemed to be a half-aced, voiceless laugh.
“I just can’t stand stupidity, that’s all.” He spat some excessive blood onto the floor, where his head was bent over, the metallic taste probably leaving him with a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He had a sharp tongue and appeared to be exceptionally quick-witted, which Isak liked immensely.
“You’re an associate, aren’t you?” The guy nodded his head slightly, though Isak knew that much already. He received the general information, which was not much, but enough to know how to approach the issue and person at hand. “Comment t'appelles-tu?”
“Even Bech Næsheim.”
In a way, he looked almost delicate, even though most of his face was concealed from Isak’s view. Too delicate for all of this. With the gun still in hand, Isak closed their distance, crouching in front of him to get a better view of the individual. His free hand went to gently tip the guy’s chin up, and finally, finally Isak was able to really see Even’s face, the thoroughly split lower lip, covered in blood, a heavy contrast to the expanse of unblemished, porcelain skin. His eyes were almost shut, lashes fluttering close to the highest part of his cheeks, but the other raised his gaze to catch Isak’s nonetheless, regardless of his current position or the fact that it was seen as disrespectful to someone of Isak’s rank. More so, he did not look away, and neither did Isak.
“Tell me, Even. How have you gotten yourself into such a mess?” To his surprise, his tone was nowhere close to one of mockery or arrogance.
“My family has had a line of associates serving the Milieu that goes back to my grandfather, however only my dad and I have had the privilege of serving the Valtersen family.” Even took a moment to breathe through his slightly parted mouth, the warmth grazing Isak’s fingers. It was then that Isak noticed his hand had almost entirely drifted to the other’s cheek. “Our services were primarily limited to several variations of money-laundering activities, until I expressed a need to branch out into arms trafficking about six months ago. Needless to say, my household backdrop and fairly young age don’t necessarily make me a very respectable person, so when a deal over a large shipment under my supervision went wrong, I was the first to blame. Hence, my present situation.”
“A situation under circumstances you are not to blame for?” Isak failed to remove his hand, partially because Even had subconsciously also leant into it.
“I believe Schistad’s bastards have had it in for me since I moved in on their business. Sharing is not their forte.” Knowing the Schistad family, that hit the nail on the head. “I know they set me up and I can prove it.” Somehow and beyond all reason, Isak was convinced Even was telling the truth. He deeply wanted him to be.
“You absolutely sure you can prove it?”
“Oui.” Hesitatingly, Even licked his dry, blood covered lips, voice scratchy. “I double-check everything; monitor the reliability of my contacts and fool-proof all procedures. Because I am good with numbers, I also overlook the accounting.” His eyes were big black orbs, pools of infinite darkness boring into his soul and Isak did not dare to break such an intimate connection. It was invigorating.
“Tu sais quoi, Even. If everything you say turns out to be true, then I think I can offer you much more than just your initial status and dignity back. What I really need to know is, how willing are you to offer up your services to the Valtersen family?”
“I am willing to offer you everything.” With an evident and explicit resolution clouding his eyes, Isak knew Even did not mean his family as a unit, and it made his chest constrict in the most delightful of ways, made his hand linger on the other’s cheek some more, a devious smile pulling at his lips, which Even mimicked instantly. “Tout et n'importe quoi.”
Even was absolutely right. He could prove it all, and then some. Isak was delighted to find out he was an incredibly smart, charming and inventive guy, sometimes brutally honest, but always respectful, steadfast. It took almost two months to convince his father and the rest of the ‘family’ of Even’s qualifications, before he was officially inaugurated as Isak’s chief advisor, even though it was pretty uncommon for an underboss to have one of his own. Nobody was quite certain as to why he suddenly required a right-hand man, as it was no secret that Isak was a ‘lone wolf’, due to his dominant personality a born leader and assertive individual, who preferred solitude and did not let anyone under his rank have the upper hand over him.
It turned out that Even was the exception to that rule, especially when it came to the bedroom, where Isak let himself surrender to the man; stretch, bend and moan for him in every way he desired.
San Francisco, California | 27th April 2032
[21 years old, 23 years old]
The elevator doors opened with the classical ping sound resonating in the cubicle after they arrived at the desired floor. Stepping into a long corridor leading to an oval room with what seemed like a receptionist desk, Isak felt somewhat overwhelmed by the sleek marble tiles on the floor and walls, where apart from a thick and red, rolled-out carpet, preventing any unwanted falls, the elongated room was void of any other objects.
“You know, I do mean it, when I say I’m sincerely grateful that you came with me."
Eva squeezed his arm, which she was clutching onto like a lifeline and it may have hurt a little, but Isak was not about to tell her that. She was absolutely, positively intimidated, even if she did not necessarily show it on the outside, because Isak knew better. They have been friends since pre-school and there was almost nothing they could hide from each other. Almost that is.
“No sweat. I could never resist your puppy-dog eyes anyway.” Isak cocked his head to the side, a bit too theatrically and presumptuously, before looking straight at her, a serious expression on his face. “Then again, you are buying me breakfast after this or our friendship is over.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Eva laughed, half-heartedly rolling her eyes, her fingers now digging into the material of his leather jacket. “I’ll feed you as soon as we’re done with this thing.”
They approached the desk, with what Isak assumed was one of the company’s receptionists sitting behind it, and Eva addressed the girl by introducing herself. While the two discussed the matter at hand, Isak took the time to skim the large room with his eyes and thought that maybe Eva made the right choice with the agency; it had a simple yet elegant style, which he hoped reflected in its photography. Being an aspiring model, Eva had decided it was about time she got a professional portfolio done, if she wanted to pursue modelling auditions in earnest. She was still an undergraduate student at the College of Liberal and Creative Arts and attended the School of Theatre and Dance with Isak, except that she was a Minor in Dance and he a Minor in Drama. She loved her studies, but modelling was a passion she desperately wanted to pursue. Eva primarily planned to go to the photo-shoot with Noora, her best mate from high-school, but Noora had to postpone last minute, due to an important family matter, and Isak had come to the rescue.
After the two ladies had wrapped up everything they needed to, Isak and Eva were escorted to one of the doors to the left, passing through two rooms and a staircase before they reached the desired destination: a loft, brightly lit due to a wall of windows, with three separate sets that differed in the choice of canvas and props, but all including their own arrangement of shop lights, filling out the room. Two tables, large enough to fit papers, office material and camera equipment, were situated far enough to the side to avoid messing up the sets and providing enough room to move around them. While Isak was busy admiring the place, he did not notice that Eva suddenly disappeared with the other girl for a touch of make-up, which is why he was probably also more than just mildly startled by a new voice to his right.
“So, they already left you to fend for yourself?”
Isak might have almost choked on his spit, when he jerked his head to the source of the sound, but he would keep that to himself. Nobody needed to know that a tall, handsome guy, with soft hair, a strong jawline and lean muscles that were visible enough through his white T-shirt nearly caused him an aneurism. He was leaning over the desk, shuffling some papers around, with half a smile dancing on his lips. Isak could feel the sudden rise in temperature, but he calmed his nerves and got his shit together when he realized the not opening of his mouth and disregard of the question made him look like a douchebag.
“Yeah, seems like everybody abandoned me for the sake of something more important.” Isak smiled casually, or what he hoped seemed casual enough. “But then again, you’re here.”
The guy grinned, his eyes still downcast, while his hands moved to grab a camera from the table for the purpose of changing the film, Isak assumed, but then again, he was not an expert and he did not know what exactly the other was doing with the camera. He was more focused on the stunning individual either way.
“That I am.” The other replied, raising his eyes to meet Isak’s for the first time. Isak hoped he did not look constipated or like a dimwit with all the motionless staring he was doing. Meanwhile, the guy shuffled around the table, moving towards Isak with an outstretched hand. “Even’s the name. I’ll be the photographer for today.”
After a moment, Isak remembered to take the hand he was offered and noted the other had a strong grip, yet smooth skin, which didn’t help Isak’s case at all. With all that was indeed going on inside his head, he still managed to process what the other had said, scrunching up his nose in confusion.
“Aren’t you a little young?” Oh God. As soon as the words flew out of his mouth, he felt the colour rise to his cheeks in mortification. “I didn’t mean it like that …” He started, desperately even, motioning with his hands while Even let out a deep and pleasant laugh, his eyes crinkling and Isak might have fallen a little bit in love right then and there.
“No, you’re right. I am an intern at the agency, until I finish my master’s degree in photography.” He explained, still very much amused by Isak’s reaction. “Don’t worry, I guarantee you that I take the job very seriously, so I won’t settle for anything less than excellent.”
“That’s good to hear.” Isak responded before their eyes met in complete silence.
Isak wanted to keep staring, but he ducked his head in embarrassment nonetheless, because he could feel the blush spreading across his entire face, making him feel like a big, dorky tomato on display. He was not certain, but he thought he could still feel the other’s eyes on him.
“You got a little James Dean vibe going on there or something?” Isak looked up at that, clearly not expecting to see a smirk on Even’s face, the boy’s free hand gesturing at Isak’s attire that consisted of a dark pair of jeans, a white shirt and black leather jacket. “You don’t strike me as the bad boy type.”
“Well, there’s a lot more to me than meets the eye.”
And hello, where did that come from? Isak had no idea, where he got the sudden surge of confidence from, but he had to mentally pat himself on the back for the bold reply. Still flustered, but somewhat proud. It seemed Even was impressed as well, if the way he raised his eyebrows in response was any indication.
“You don’t say …” With the smirk still intact, maybe now even more sensual than before, Even gave Isak a good once over, slow and deliberate. He wanted Isak to notice, and notice he did. He felt exposed, but in a good way, and he liked how Even made him feel. Even moved to place the camera he was still holding back on the table and stepped towards Isak with determination, until he was in his personal space, looking down at him. Isak vaguely noted that he was taller. He visibly gulped and believed Even saw that too. “This doesn’t really work, you know … it shouldn’t be all clean cut and refined, especially not if you want to pull of that look.”
He grabbed at the collar of Isak’s shirt and pulled it out from under his jacket, straightening it out and proceeding to open the top two buttons. His hands ran once, twice along his shoulders, before one of them combed through his hair, the fingers lightly pulling at the strands, the touches making Isak’s skin prickle. In what seemed to him like a daze, he could sense the hand sliding slowly down his crown of hair to hook behind his neck, holding it steady like an anchor, which Isak desperately needed at the moment.
“One thing’s for sure.” He almost whispered, but because they were so close, Isak could hear every word clearly, distinctly. Even’s eyes stared meaningfully into his and Isak could barely breathe. “I can’t wait to take your photos.”
“Photos?” What photos?
The moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat somewhere behind Even, startling the two boys out of their private moment only for them to look towards the source of the sound that belonged to the receptionist girl from before, with Eva standing right by her side. Fresh out of make-up, Isak guessed.
“I hate to interrupt, but … Eva, this is Even, the photographer for today.” The girl said, while motioning between the two. “Even, meet Eva … your model.” Eva gave a curt and polite nod, but Isak could see an amused smile playing at her lips. Damn, she knew and she was never going to let him live this down.
“Model?” Even responded after a brief pause, a little baffled himself. He turned back to Isak, looking at him again, a knowing expression settling on his face. “Oh, I see.” He apparently also noticed he still had his hand at the nape of Isak’s neck, fingers brushing against the short hair there, so he reluctantly removed it.
“Well, don’t sound too disappointed.” Eva snorted, hands tucked into her hips, although a wide smile had already blossomed on her pretty face.
“No, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Even amended, turning towards her fully and taking in her appearance in all honesty. “You’re beautiful.” Isak could hear that he truly meant it.
“Oh, I know exactly what you meant. Isak here is quite the heartbreaker, isn’t he?” The smile was big, harmlessly teasing, and she even sent a wink in Isak’s direction, the horror. Even simply laughed, the sound surprisingly comforting, and stepped closer to Eva.
“You know what, Eva? I like you. That’s why I’ll give you a bonus set for free.” It seemed like Even had already made up his mind, however the tone of his voice implied otherwise and, sure enough, a condition followed his offer. “But only, if your friend agrees to go on a date with me.”
Isak did not know what shocked him more: Even propositioning and bribing one of his best friends in exchange for him or his friend immediately and willingly agreeing to it with a squeal and an enthusiastic handshake to seal their deal. Isak was sure he looked like a gaping fish out of water as he stared at the two people in question. Was this seriously just happening? Eva noticed him first, giving him an exasperated look, while passing by him to head for one of the sets.
“Oh please, don’t act like you’re not creaming in your boxers right now. By the way, you’re welcome.” She tapped his chest with the back of her hand. Even was right behind her, camera once again in hand, stopping at Isak’s side, lingering if only for a moment to share a smile with him, before raising an eyebrow at the boy.
“I do hope you’re still going to let me take your photos.” He grinned and left Isak to begin the photo-shoot, while Isak watched the ordeal from the side-lines, contemplating on the event that had occurred.
Isak did in fact let Even take his photos on their first date a few days later, and he told Eva as much. He may have left out the part where he posed for Even while being half in the nude, after he got intimately acquainted with Even’s bed. And his body. Multiple times.
Albuquerque, New Mexico | 3rd May 1881
[24 years old, 26 years old]
The relentless heat of the midday sun beating down on his form reminded Isak of the reality that was his life when he strode down the main street, trying to catch any shade possible, especially since he misplaced his hat in the shop and had no time looking for it. Alas, there was almost nowhere to escape from the sun’s hot beams. Or the dry soil that crushed with an agonizing sound under his boots. Or the torrid air that burned his throat sore. This was his life. It always has been.
It was the only thing Isak knew, growing up in what he liked to call a forsaken town to help out at his father’s apothecary shop so he could one day take it over, which he was not particularly looking forward to. To be honest, he secretly hated every aspect of that prospect. He was sick of this stagnant place that had nothing interesting to offer, sick of all the pretentious people and their attitude. He was sick of his boring life, moulded by society’s standards of what was considered a successful existence. But Isak had also lost the drive of striving against the tide a long time ago, because he was alone in his desire to escape this way of living and felt immensely powerless, so he just went on.
He easily gave into his father’s request to go to the local bank at an insufferable hour and ask for another loan, because business was not going too well and they needed to order a new shipment of medicine and other herbs, if they wanted any profit at all. Isak was just hoping they would not be rejected. His feet thumped heavily against the wooden boards, when he stepped onto the bank’s premises and made his way through the door, hinges squeaking only slightly at the movement. Looking around the room, he figured it was a busy day since a number of people were waiting in two distinct lines to get to the windows at the counter, so Isak went to wait his turn in one of them.
“My my, isn’t that Isak Valtersen I see?” Isak startled at the high-pitched voice, his eyes landing on the young female with a bright smile and an all too heavy dress for such weather as she approached his side. “A wonderful pleasure to be meeting you again, dear sir.”
“Miss Larzen, what a surprise seeing you here of all places.” Quickly composing himself from the initial shock, Isak straightened his back before gracefully taking one of the woman’s hands in his, bringing it to his lips to place a chaste kiss on the backside like any other gentleman would. He smiled amiably up at her through his lashes, while still bent slightly forward. “Of course, the pleasure is all mine.”
“I didn’t think you’d be such a sweet-talker.” She beamed at him, utterly pleased with the attention.
Emma Larzen was the daughter of the new physician, who had moved to town with his family about four months beforehand. He was a respectable man from the East, which is why a lot of town’s folks put their trust in his services and methods. Isak and Emma’s fathers got to know each other by professional association, gradually contributing to the meeting of their children in hope of bringing them together in marriage. Right from the start, Isak could see Emma was infatuated with him and hence not against the idea. Isak, on the other hand, was very much against it, because although Emma was a beautiful gal with a lot to offer, Isak was simply not interested, would never be interested. So, Isak had been playing a polite game of hard-to-get with Emma Larzen for the last two months, desperately attempting to prevent their union from happening, he just did not know how much longer he could keep that up.
The light squeaking of the door’s hinges announced another person entering the establishment, but due to the peculiar sound of boots against the floor, Isak sensed it was several people coming through the door. His suspicions were confirmed as four men all decked out with hats, their faces partially covered by scarves, walked into the middle of the room. The tallest one of them, wearing a long coat, emanating an air of authority and confidence, stepped a little away from the others and pulled his scarf down to reveal a face that struck a nerve in Isak’s body, making his chest flutter with anticipation and fear.
“G’day to y’all fine gents and, as I see, a few lovely ladies as well.” The man smiled, his mouth stretching just enough to give a glimpse of his teeth. “Unfortunately, I have the unpleasant task of informing you that you are about to get robbed. Fortunately for you,” he said, cocking the revolver he pulled out of his belt holster for everybody to see “we’re going to be doing the robbing.” The other three men, who were apparently accomplices, followed his example and pulled out their own guns.
Isak could hear the frightened and outraged gasps of various patrons, vaguely noticing some of them sticking their arms up in capitulation. He could even feel Emma’s hands as they gripped his arm in panic, when she moved halfway behind him, but all Isak was actually focused on was the alluring young outlaw, who made his way over to one of the windows.
“Now, if you would be so kind as to pass on the money you have in that safe right behind you, I’d really appreciate it.”
The two bank attendants went right to work on getting the safe open as fast as they could, the other bandits having an eye out for anything suspicious, such as a swift or unpredicted movement from one of the hostages, while the man in charge leaned on the counter, letting his gaze drift across the room. Isak almost ceased to breathe when the other’s eyes slowed to a halt in his general direction and did not seem to be moving on. Or maybe Isak was just imagining it. Probably. Or probably not.
He visibly swallowed as the guy eventually left his place at the counter, venturing closer to where he and Emma stood, his steps slow and lax. Coming to a stop only a few feet away, with eyes unmoving and intense, Isak may have wished for the other to be staring directly at him.
“Good God, you are gorgeous.” The man said after what had to be at least a minute of silent observation, his lips ultimately quirking up into a smile as though he could barely believe it himself. “And that mouth of yours … I have to say, it makes me think of things I really shouldn’t.”
“How dare you speak to a lady in such crude manner?” Emma squeezed his arm tighter in a sudden urge to be brave and stand up for her modesty, which for some reason irritated Isak more than it should. Of course the utterly intriguing bandit, who Isak seemed to have an odd fixation with, meant Emma, who was still shielding herself behind his back. Of course.
The man seemed taken aback for moment by that comment, but recovered relatively quickly by snorting in amusement.
“I do apologize, ma’am.” Tipping his hat in recognition, he grinned bashfully before gesturing at Isak. “But, as a matter of fact, I meant him.”
“Excuse me?” Isak could hear the dull pumping of blood in his ears, only half aware of Emma releasing his arm completely, her appalled shout of ‘why I never’ ringing in the background, while he tuned out almost everything else except for the outlaw smiling charmingly down at him, now even closer than before.
“You sinfully enticing creature, may I be so blessed to know your name?” His words were unusually soft as he spoke, his hand cupping the other’s chin in a firm grasp that made Isak’s head spin.
“Isak Valtersen.” Isak registered that his voice had been reduced to a whisper, his eyes on the verge of closing at the touch of the other, with a thumb gently brushing across his lower lip, pressing into the flesh with resolution. Lord Almighty, whatever this was, it was actually happening.
“Isak. I like the sound of that. People mostly refer to me as Notorious Næsheim, which is a horribly unoriginal and lousy title, but you can call me Even.” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk at the corner of his lips. “And, considering the circumstances, I need to depart immediately, so excuse my audacity, when I say that may I burn in all eternity, may I pine and may I perish, because I do not want to part from you.”
Even’s partners were already urging him to respond to their requests for them to go, because they had collected all the money and other valuables, which meant ‘We need to make a run for it, Even’ and ‘For Pete’s sake, this is not the time for serenading, man’. However, it seemed Even did not pay them much attention, holding his gaze with unwavering determination, and neither did Isak. Right then and there, for a time-stopping moment nobody else mattered but the two of them, looking into each other’s souls and discovering more than they ever thought they could.
“I know the fastest way to get you out of town, if you’ll take me with you.” Coming out of his catatonic state, Isak finally spoke, a desire thrumming through every inch of his body. There was nothing else he wanted more and he knew it. He had a feeling that so did Even, because he saw it in the other’s knowing smile.
“I’ll take you anywhere you wish, sweet angel of mine.”
Half an hour later, when they were riding across a prairie about 15 miles out of town, the sun was still high up in the sky. Isak was riding with Even on his stallion, his arms wrapped securely around the other’s middle and his body pressed flush up against the solid backside, which brought his face impossibly close to the nape of Even’s neck and allowed him to graze the area with his nose, breathe hot air against the skin there. He had never felt more alive yet safe as he did with Even in that exact instant and he was certain Even would make sure he always would.
Plymouth, England | 16th July 1985
[18 years old, 20 years old]
He had to get out of there.
Isak managed to push through the crowd of people, slow-dancing to an all too cheesy song performed by a band he had never heard of before, as he made his way out of the gymnasium hall, which was decorated in colourful ribbons and different fabric pieces ranging from pink to what looked like neon blue, reflecting the current punk-rock fashion trends. The lighting was appropriately dark to set the atmosphere and give the teenagers a little privacy for some good old snogging, but it did not really help Isak with seeking out the main exit. He found it soon enough though, blessing his orientation skills, as he stepped into the quiet hallway. Now he just had to find the fastest way outside before he threw up.
The school formal. Celebrating the end of secondary education, or in Isak’s case Sixth Form, the social extravaganza embodied a turning point in a person’s life and was most likely the most important event for a teenager since the release of Grease some years back. It was therefore quite fitting that their formal carried the slogan ‘A Night To Remember’, and ironically enough, Isak would definitely not be able to forget it for the rest of his life, although for all of the wrong reasons as it seemed.
Two hours earlier, Isak still had a date to the dance. He also still had a relationship and dignity, all of which appeared to have flown out of the window. Isak had arrived to the formal without Sarah, his girlfriend of the last three months, because they agreed to meet each other there. However, upon arrival Isak found his date in the arms of another guy, their year’s biggest knob-head as far as Isak was convinced, and to say he was confused would be an understatement. Outraged at the sight, Isak confronted the two with a simple ‘What the bloody fuck is this?’, earning them quite a few stares, which he was not really proud of. But it was Sarah’s response that shocked him into silence. ‘This is me breaking up with you,’ Sarah had smiled, an arrogance to her Isak did not know she possessed, especially since she must have planned this out in advance ‘because you’re just too much of a fag to touch me, Isak’. Isak’s blood had run cold at her words, barely registering the rigid stance he was in, a ringing in his ears the only sound he could hear as she had said something else, before sauntering of with her escort of the night.
It was not as if the information triggered a revelation he was ignorantly unaware of. He knew he was gay, had known for almost 5 years that girls just did not do it for him, but it was easier to just pretend to be straight, dating girls with a minimum of first and second base activities, than be openly gay. Not at that age, not in this town. No wonder that such an affirmation of his sexuality so publicly almost knocked him off his feet. Isak had never even dared to say it out loud to himself before, only to have it thrown in his face by someone else. Not that he was trying to be in denial about it, he just did not realize he was wearing it on his sleeve like that and he was not sure, if he wanted everybody else to see.
Isak had stayed outside the gymnasium for about ten minutes afterwards, ere deciding that he needed a drink. That is how he had ended up inside the large hall, lounging at a table near the overly spiked refreshments and watching the mushy couples enjoy their night. It was ridiculous. He felt stuffy and uncomfortable the entire time, but the alcohol helped a bit, until the stares he began to receive were growing in number and he could not take it anymore. He had to get out of there.
The very first breath of fresh air he inhaled after breaking through an emergency exit was like a wake-up call, his lungs expanding, his skin revelling in the mild chill of the night. His ears accommodated to the soothing stillness as he leaned himself against the brick wall with eyes closed and his head cocked a little upward, the door eventually closing behind him on its own.
“Bad night, huh?” Isak almost jumped out of his skin as he heard the deep voice, his heart hammering wildly in his ribcage from the fright. When he looked to his left, where the voice had come from, he beheld a guy leaning against the wall on the other side of the door, his legs crossed one over the other, hands held close to his mouth as he tried to light a fag stuck between his lips. Or a joint, Isak was not really sure. He was tall, dressed in very form-fitting jeans, an accompanying denim jacket over a very bright and coloured T-shirt underneath it, so Isak knew immediately he was not one of the guests, not that he had ever seen him before in school either. He would have remembered, because the guy was stunning and Isak could literally not tear his eyes away from his figure, the moonlight illuminating him in a pale, greyish colour. Definitely a few years older than Isak himself, he had very carefully styled hair and what seemed a cross earring in the right earlobe.
When the guy finally looked up at him, Isak noticed that he had been staring silently for a bit too long, so he coughed to gain a moment before responding. “Yeah, you could put it that way.”
Gazing into the vast nothingness of the night, the guy exhaled some smoke from the first drag of the blunt, as Isak now saw unmistakably, stuck between the other’s long fingers. “Seems pretty awful, if you had to dodge the bee’s knees that is the dance.” As he glanced at Isak sideways, he raised one eyebrow and smirked in a conspiratorial way, which let Isak instantly know that he was taking the piss out of the whole ordeal. And Isak smiled too, because this thing was shite and boring, and the guy was right. So right, Isak went along with it willingly.
“You’re talking from experience or something?”
“Or something. I’m just a wee band singer on my break.” He held up the blunt for Isak to see, before bringing it to his lips again and taking another drag. “All my mates already had their time off, now it’s my turn.”
Now that he thought about it, Isak had indeed not paid a lot of attention to the band, too busy looking into his glass and debating on whether or not he should refill it again, so it did not come as a surprise to him that he did not recognize the alleged singer of said band. He could however recall two girls, as they walked past his table, talking excitedly about the fit lead singer, who they’d love to snog. Unfortunately, Isak would have to agree with them.
“Since we sorted that out, I’m much more interested in what brings you here.”
“Just ...” Isak hesitated, looking down at his polished shoes. He was not sure, if it was appropriate to share his predicament with the stranger he felt oddly comfortable around, which is why he shrugged, his answer vague. “… needed some space from everything else in there, I reckon.” The other simply hummed understandingly, pursing his lips.
“I don’t blame you. If my girl publicly dumped and called me a fag in front of everybody, I would too.” Isak was suddenly paralyzed all over again, completely unaware of how even the band’s lead singer got this much information this fast. Maybe it was his unresponsiveness to the comment or an utterly perplexed expression on his face that made the guy glance in his direction and, upon seeing him, provide an explanation. “I sort of overheard.” He elaborated, an awkward stress to his voice. “Was taking a leak in one of the toilets, came out to the scene already unfolding. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you weren’t exactly quiet up until that point.”
“No ― it’s not ― I don’t mind.” Isak mumbled, coming out of his trance. “Everyone else heard it too, so …” He could not shake the feeling that he was anxious of the other’s thoughts on it, so much he was terrified of looking at him again, although he wanted to. He really wanted to.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, was it just a spiteful remark on the slag’s part or …?” When Isak actually laughed at that, he was surprised himself; not particularly knowing why, but glad it amused him that much, he let himself revel in the feeling, but was still not able to take even a glance at the guy, so he was unaware whether or not it painted a smile on said person’s face all the same.
“Does it matter? About now the entire hall is in on it, whether it’s true or not is irrelevant at this point.”
“It always matters.” Isak snapped his head up to meet the other’s gaze so fast he was amazed he did not crack his neck with the movement. There was something truthful and raw in his eyes, it made Isak’s heart clench in an unfamiliar way. “Because apart from what everybody else thinks or says, it’s still about your sexuality, it’s still about you. In the end, you should be true to yourself and yourself alone.”
“Yes.” Yes, yes ... yes. Isak exhaled almost voicelessly after what seemed like an eternity, a sensation of lightness at finally saying it with his own lips, the single word heavy with something he could still not wholly comprehend. “Yes, there is truth behind her words, not that she knows that for sure herself. And, it’s not so much about being afraid to face the truth, I’m just not sure whether I’m glad she put it out there or not.” Once he started he was unable to stop, so Isak kept going. He pushed himself of the wall, walking a step or two to sway on his feet, because he could not stay put. He wanted to be all over the place. “I don’t know. All these years there were days, sometimes weeks, I used to wish for it to come out, to be over and done with it, which sounds hypocritical now that it’s out and I’m graduating and leaving to continue my studies in London, but it’s true and I still just want to tell all the pretentious wankers to sod off and …” Isak abruptly stopped when he realized with embarrassment that he was rambling and could not recall everything that he had said to someone else, someone who probably did not care. He took a second before peeking at the handsome boy, who now probably thought he was a total nutter, but it seemed the other had remained in the same spot, his expression attentive, but not pressing, and Isak suddenly had nothing good to say.
“You mind, if I have some?” He indicated at the joint in the other’s hand, somewhat stiffly. The guy blinked once, looking down at the item, an almost secretive smile appearing on his lips. The next thing Isak knew, he uncrossed his legs and made his way towards Isak, his steps lazy but deliberate. Coming to a stop only a few inches from Isak, he lifted the cigarette to the younger boy’s mouth, placing it to the tip of his lips, waiting patiently. Isak was certain he felt his other hand at the hip, a warm pressure he welcomed as he took the first drag, holding his breath, the other’s eyes never leaving his. Isak was utterly done for.
“Just so you know, I’m Even.” He cocked his head from one side to the other, observing Isak’s features closely. It made Isak all fuzzy. “And, if you still want to tell all the pretentious wankers to sod off, I might have an idea how, but only if you’re absolutely, positively sure about it.” Something told Isak that he did not have to think about it, that it was so obvious he had no need to, that the decision would be genuine.
“Absolutely, positively.” It was said with such finality, his heart never feeling more at ease than right then, when it knew he was too. “Isak. My name is Isak.”
“Wicked.” The smile he received was radiant, brilliant like sunshine on a cloudy day. “Oh, and one more thing.” The other was so fast, Isak hardly even felt the brush of fingers against his cheek before Even’s plump, chapped lips pressed to his, fitting against them with such restrained restlessness, Isak sagged against the other, hands gripping his clothes on reflex, limbs pliant and mouth moving as the other pleased. When Even pulled away all too quickly, remaining close enough for their noses to touch and breaths to mix, Isak still tried to chase after the taste of him.
“I wanted to do that since I saw you standing by those lockers, yelling bloody fuck at that daft cow.”
Isak laughed out loud at that and pulled Even in for another, possibly longer kiss, just because he could, just because it made him feel like he was flying. Indeed, a night to remember. Soon after, Isak let Even guide him back inside the hall, where he pulled Isak onto the dance floor in front of his entire year. He must have spoken to his band mates, when he went to shrug off his jacket, because they played REO Speedwagon’s Keep On Loving You. It was terribly cheesy, slightly clumsy, but right all the same, and the either curious or baffled looks they got made Isak only hold onto Even a little tighter, press against him a little closer.
A week after, Isak waited with his packed bags on the front steps of his family home for Even to pick him up from London, pondering whether that night’s decisions might have been a bit hasty, promises too reckless, just because they were so infatuated they could not think properly. It was when he spotted Even, his van pulling up outside their place, the boy winking at him through one of the most blinding smiles Isak had ever seen, that all his doubts dissipated.