Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts with Sana blackmailing Isak, which is a thing in Isak’s life now apparently and the reason he’s sitting in the back of a slowly filling classroom.

Vilde is standing next to the door, flanked by Eva and Sana, and nervously greeting newcomers. Isak has no idea how she got so many people to join a fucking book club. Sana can’t be holding everyone’s weed hostage, which means that some people really want to join a book club. Isak slouches down further into his chair, debating whether to shoot his friends another text, but ultimately deciding against it. He gets why they’re not coming, even though it’s an asshole thing to do. But then again, maybe it was an asshole thing to leave the weed at Eva’s house. Who knows. Isak certainly doesn’t. The only thing he’s sure of right now is that book club is going to be a waste of time.

He’s sure of this until a very tall, blond guy saunters past him to sit down a couple seats next to him. Isak watches him out of the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen him at school before; he would have remembered him for sure. The guy sits there, feet stretched out in front of him, his hands fiddling with his phone (maybe his friends ditched him as well?) and Isak can’t help but notice when he licks over his lips absentmindedly. Isak subconsciously mimics him, before shaking his head slightly. This is ridiculous.

Then the guy looks up, catching Isak’s gaze and raises his eyebrows. Isak looks back down at his phone so fast, he is amazed that he doesn’t get whiplash. His heart is pounding a bit too hard for such a simple interaction. Thankfully, Vilde starts the group meeting at this exact moment and Isak stares straight ahead, determined not to acknowledge the guy to his right again.

For a few minutes, Vilde just rambles on about how she actually wanted to host some group in relation to the revue and, for a second, Isak thinks even Vilde doesn’t want to be here, but then she continues by saying that a book club is nearly like that other group, except better because you get to know others and discuss books and it will definitely look good on your university applications. Isak feels slightly ill. He has no idea whether this is something that universities are interested in, and, more importantly, he has no clue yet what to do after school. He likes to keep this train of thought at an arm’s length. Together with a few other ones.

“Alright,” Vilde claps her hands, “I thought we could start today by getting to know each other. For that I’d like you to pair up – with someone you don’t know.” She narrows her eyes at Chris in the first row and the boy next to her. Isak also hasn’t seen him ever before, but looking around the classroom, he doesn’t recognise a lot of people. Maybe he has to keep his eyes open more often. Especially, when he somehow missed the guy next to him.

Vilde’s voice cuts through Isak’s thoughts and he returns his attention to her. “Okay, so we’ve got questionnaires that Sana and Eva will be handing out in a second, and basically you just ask these questions to your partner and let’s say, after, erm,” she looks at Eva, who smiles at her, “after like ten minutes you’ll change partners. The goal is to talk to a few different people to get to know each other.” Vilde sucks in a breath at the end of her explanations, wringing her hands in front of her, and Isak sighs loudly.

That is, until the guy on his right suddenly slides into the seat next to Isak’s and smiles at him. “We don’t know each other,” he says and Isak nods dumbfounded. The guy grins some more. “You know because Vilde said to talk to someone we don’t know.”

Right, that. Isak is totally up to speed on that and not still staring at the guy’s eyes. That would be creepy and not cool, so Isak is definitely not doing that. “Right,” he says slowly.

Sana interrupts them, putting two sheets of paper on the table in front of them. “You’re here alone, Isak?” she asks pointedly.

Isak snatches one of the sheets, grateful to have some kind of excuse to not look at the guy next to him any longer, and says, “You try getting your friends to join a book club when you don’t have blackmailing material to hold over their heads.”

Sana just rolls her eyes and continues handing out paper. Somehow, it still feels like she’s had the last word.

“Who has blackmailing material on you?” the guy asks, reminding Isak that he’s not alone.

“Erm, Sana.” Isak’s eyes flick up to catch the guy’s look, before drifting downwards again.

“What does she have on you?”

“She has my weed. Well, it’s not technically mine. But I kind of got stuck with it.” Or, rather, was stupid enough to offer to take care of it. Isak is such an idiot, really, sometimes he hates himself a lot. This is one of those times.

The guy starts laughing way too hard for what Isak just admitted to. Isak looks up, trying his hardest to be annoyed, but a smile is tugging at the corner of his lips when he watches the guy’s eyes crinkle and the way he throws his head back. “Is that funny to you?” he asks because he has to at least keep the illusion of dignity.

“Definitely. I feel like we don’t even have to do the questionnaire any longer, I already know the most important thing about you.” Even grins widely.

“Yeah?”

“You’re scared of Sana.”

“Hey! I am not scared of Sana,” Isak whispers furiously because maybe Sana hears him. She has a tendency to appear seemingly at will. “She just has my weed.”

“Mhm, sure,” Even grins, before finally taking one of the sheets as well. Isak looks around the class to see that everyone seems to be either involved in fairly stilted conversation or having a good time. No one is paying them any attention.

“So, you apparently know the most important thing about me, but I don’t even know your name,” Isak says and congratulates himself. That was smooth.

“Even,” the guy says, stretching out his hand to shake Isak’s as if they’re colleagues at work or something. Isak smothers the smile threating to overtake his face and shakes Even’s hand.

“Isak,” he answers and somehow Even seems amused.

“Well, we’ve answered the first question on the sheet. The next one is ‘what’s your favourite book’?” Even reads aloud.

Shit. Isak suddenly remembers that this is supposed to be a book club, meaning there will be talk about books. This is a problem because while Isak reads, he tends to spend more time fucking around on the internet and Wikipedia, finding out stuff ranging from whether the colour orange was named after the fruit or the other way round to the detailed physics of the multiverse theory. In short, the last time Isak read a book that wasn’t non-fiction must have been two years ago. He thinks he dimly remembers reading some sort of romance the year before everything that went down between Eva and Jonas. It might have been a book that Eva had recommended to him.

Mostly, he spends his evenings on Netflix watching stupid shows about rather stupid people.

“Don’t you have one?” Even asks because Isak has probably stared into the distance for quite a while now.

“Of course I have one,” Isak protests, pulling a face. “What do you think of me?”

“Sure?”

“Yes? Obviously, I have a favourite book. Who doesn’t? Don’t you have one?” Isak is aware that he’s rambling but it’s one of those situations where his mouth insists on running away from him, his brain playing catch up and generally being unhelpful. His life is hard.

Even grins even wider if that’s possible, before saying, “I don’t have one.”

“You don’t?”

“Nah, there’s too many, right? Who could choose. But I guess you can.” He raises his eyebrows again.

Isak is saved from having to come up with a favourite book, when a girl with short hair turns up in front of their desk. He blinks at her stupidly. For once, he’s pretty sure that he knows that her name is Emma and that he saw her at Eva’s party last week. Apart from that, he doesn’t think he ever talked to her. If he did, he must have been drunk out of his mind.

“Hi,” she smiles.

“Hi,” Isak answers, still shooting her a puzzled look.

“Vilde said to change partners after some time and I thought we could pair up.” Her eyes flicker towards Even for a second, before focusing once more on Isak. Isak thinks he should feel flattered, but the only thing he feels is slight annoyance and the familiar notion of dread somewhere low in his stomach.

“Right, yeah, Vilde said that.” Isak glances at Even, who seems to have lost his smile and is staring at Emma. Suddenly, his lips lift up and he says, “Ah, but Isak and I just started talking about our love for ‘The Woman in White’ and Isak here honestly thinks that the text gives no clues on Marian being a lesbian, which is just dead wrong on so many levels, you know? So, I think we really need to hash out this argument before we can switch partners. Right, Isak?” Even turns to him, wearing a smile that freaks Isak out if he’s honest, in that it looks completely true, but can’t be anything other than fake.

“Yeah, right. Erm, I was just saying that Miriam -“

“Marian.”

“Marian could never be a, a lesbian.”

Emma looks profoundly confused, and Isak feels for her. He has no clue what he’s saying. “Okay.” She seems to wait for either of them to say something, but no one speaks up, Isak resolutely staring at the piece of paper in front of him. “Maybe we can partner up later then,” she says, before turning around to go talk to someone else.

As soon as she’s on the other side of the room, Isak regards Even. “Did you just make all of that up?”

Even frowns. “No? ‘The Woman in White’ is a sensation novel and there are lots of interpretations where critics argue that Marian, one of the protagonists, is depicted as a lesbian. Obviously, only in the subtext. The book was written in, like 1860, so there is no actual text saying that she’s a lesbian, but –“

“How the fuck do you know this?”

Even leans back in his chair. “You know, not everyone joins a book club because they’re blackmailed into it.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Still.”

“I like books.” Even shrugs and then they’re all brought to attention because Vilde takes to the front of the room again.

Isak knows that he should be listening to her, but he can’t take his eyes off Even. The way he just unabashedly says that he likes books, that he knows obscure literature (well, obscure to Isak’s mind in any case) and has apparently joined a book club for fun. (A tiny part of Isak’s mind is also still boggling over the fact that Even has said lesbian so casually, so without feeling like something inside of Isak is preparing to get up and flee, but Isak silences this part.)

“Okay, so we’ll meet up in a week because the book we’re going to read and discuss first is ‘The Perks of Being a Wallflower’ and it’s really short and I think a lot of you already read it?” Vilde looks around for agreement and Isak sees at least half of the room nodding. Even seems a bit dismayed, but he’s nodding nonetheless. Isak thinks he remembers that there’s a film version of the same name, but he’s not quite sure. This book club thing is so going to kill him.

“We’ll see each other next week then,” Vilde continues, smiling brightly. “Thank you so much for coming. We’re going to have so much fun!”

Even gets up, grinning down at Isak and opening his mouth as if to say something, when Sana interrupts him by appearing in front of them. “You’re going to be here next week. It’s the compensation for your friends not coming.” She fixes Isak with a hard look.

“Fine,” Isak says, his eyes drifting towards Even. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

On Monday, Jonas asks him how the book club was and Isak mumbles something about boring and a waste of time, when the only thing he remembers are Even’s eyes.

“Do you have our weed back?” Mahdi asks, putting a piece of bread in his mouth.

Isak grimaces. “No, not yet, but I’m working on it.”

“You better.” Mahdi gestures in his direction with his half-eaten bread and Isak nods dutifully. Sana won’t keep the stupid weed for that long anyways. At least, Isak hopes that she won’t.

“Guys, I need your help,” Magnus says, falling into a chair next to Isak.

“No, we can’t be right next to you when you’re going down on a girl, sorry, Mags,” Isak instantly says. Magnus just waves aside his comment, while Mahdi snorts and Jonas grins at Isak.

“Not at all what I need your help with, what the fuck.” It turns out that Magnus’ problem does have something to do with girls, but more in the sense that he has a general problem of understanding girls at all. Isak doesn’t have anything to add to that conversation, so he lets his gaze wander through the cafeteria, just to stop when he sees Even, sitting a few tables away with a couple of others.

Isak is aware that he’s staring, it’s just that he can’t help it when Even throws his head back laughing, exposing his neck, and tilting his chair so that it only rests on two feet. And then he looks straight at Isak, bowing his head in recognition before turning back towards his friends. Isak can’t cast his eyes downward fast enough.

He returns his attention to the conversation at his table, but it has moved on from helping Magnus with girls to discussing girls in general. Quite suddenly, Isak is tired.

“I still need to finish my assignment in biology,” he lies, getting up and grabbing his backpack. “I’ll meet you later.”

The only one who furrows his brows at him is Jonas, but Isak ignores him expertly.

It’s Wednesday evening when Isak remembers that he should have read this Perks book by tomorrow. It’s not as if he has completely forgotten that book club is tomorrow (he even remembers that it moved from Friday evenings to Thursdays because Vilde realised that Fridays were for partying mostly), it’s just that he keeps forgetting that books are involved.

Instead of procuring said book at once, Isak lies down on his bed, staring at the ceiling and moping silently. At one point, Eskild knocks at his door, asking if he wants some of the dinner that’s apparently left over, but Isak shakes his head. Somewhere in his room there’s still a packet of crisps. That’s good enough.

Later, when he’s eaten the crisps and part of a chocolate bar that he found next to the them, he opens his laptop to finally google the Perks book. Thankfully, google knows what it’s called and the third link is one to the iTunes page of the movie. That has to make do for tomorrow. He buys the movie out of spite instead of streaming it online. His father can pay for his extracurricular school activities.

The movie starts kind of slow, so Isak lies back down, his laptop perched on his lap, and half-heartedly follows the storyline. This Charlie kid seems like he’s got some serious issues and Isak doesn’t know how interested he is in that. He perks up a bit when Patrick kisses his boyfriend, just to feel his heart start beating too hard when it turns out that Patrick’s boyfriend isn’t out. Isak debates whether to watch this to the end, but then the scene changes and it’s about Charlie again and not quite so bad. Actually, it’s hilarious when Charlie gets stoned for the first time.

But then the movie goes on and Patrick and his boyfriend face each other in the middle of the cafeteria. Isak freezes when Patrick confronts his boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, who calls “faggot” after him. Isak hits the pause button. He looks at the ceiling again, the laptop a comforting weight on his stomach, and breathes in through his nose.

There’s white noise in his ears, his brain is trying to say something, but Isak doesn’t want to hear it.

He looks back at the laptop, fast forwarding, just to find a scene where Charlie sits at his desk with tear streaks on his cheeks. Isak closes the laptop and puts it away.

Half of the film has to be enough for tomorrow.

Isak is tired when he slinks down into his seat at the next book club meeting. He hasn’t slept well, Sana still has his weed and Mahdi wants it back sooner rather than later (he said this completely calm, a smile on his face, and it makes Isak feel like even more of an asshole).

Things are not exactly looking up when Emma sits down on his left side, and there is no trace of Even anywhere. Great. Isak should have stayed home, the weed be damned.

“Hi,” Emma grins. Isak shoots her a feeble smile.

“Did you read the book?” she asks, oblivious to the strain that must be showing on his face.

He shrugs because it feels like a safe bet. She can make of that what she wants.

“It was really cool, right?” So, she makes it out as Isak having read the book. That’s cool and not at all what Isak feared.

“I guess.” In truth, he still doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe, he shouldn’t have come.

“Hello, Isak,” someone says and Isak turns on his chair to meet Even’s gaze. “Thanks for saving me a seat.” He sits down heavily on Isak’s right and Isak would feel caged, except that Even next to him doesn’t feel like a wall, but rather a door if anything.

“Sure,” he says, even though he did nothing of the sort.

Then, Vilde starts the meeting and Isak drifts off. He looks at Emma, who seems to take in everything Vilde is saying like a sponge. He looks at her short, brown hair, her small figure, her white sweater that’s a bit too big on her and the tight skinny jeans she’s sporting. He looks at her face, its soft angles, her red lips and the way she delicately puts her chin in her hands.

There were times when Isak tried to convince himself that he could like this. That he could look at girls and feel want, desire, anything other than immense boredom and the absence of anything. For the most part, these times are over. For the most part, Isak knows that when he looks at boys he feels what his friends describe when they ogle girls. It’s just that sometimes he can’t help but try again. Try to find something appealing: to look more carefully, to weigh every feeling that presents itself against others that he gets when he sees boys, to not trust his first hunch, his second, his third, to stop exhausted and sure that there is nothing that girls can do for him.

He doesn’t have to look at Even to know what he feels when he does look. It’s just that there is a difference between knowing something and acting upon it. Isak doesn’t know how to bridge this gap, this abyss that keeps staring at him whenever he tries to cross it. It’s one thing to admit to himself, quietly, in the night, when his roommates are asleep or out, that he doesn’t like girls. He can’t bring himself to actually say it. It’s as if there’s a wall locked behind his teeth, keeping the words, the expectations that others will heave upon him, inside.

Even nudges Isak’s shoulder with his own, startling Isak out of his thoughts. “Wanna partner up again?”

“Yeah,” he agrees readily.

“Let’s make it three,” Emma chimes in. Even just nods, only sparing her a fleeting glance, before hopping onto the table, presumably so that he can see both Isak and Emma properly. Isak is slightly distracted because Even’s dangling legs keep touching his. It’s maddening.

“I’ll go get Vilde’s questionnaires,” Emma volunteers because, apparently, there are more of these. Isak isn’t surprised.

Even seems to interpret his expression correctly and says, “Vilde really prepares for these meetings.”

Isak snorts. “Vilde prepares for every part of her life, I think.”

“Nice to have that kind of control.”

“Isn’t a bit exhausting, though? To always control everything?”

“I don’t know. Might be nice for a change.”

Isak doesn’t have a reply to this, so he just shrugs, smiling slightly. Even doesn’t seem to mind, smiling back, until Emma returns, a sheet in her hands, and plops down next to Isak again. She drags her chair closer to his and Isak swallows a sigh.

“It says here we should discuss these questions and that we’ll discuss them as a group later. If there’s time.”

“What’s the first question then?” Even asks, leaning back on his hands and stretching himself. Isak absentmindedly notices that Even’s wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and he can see the glimpse of a t-shirt as well. It’s October. How cold is he?

“Just a general one: How we liked the book.” Emma looks up from her sheet, but Even just motions for her to answer first. “I liked it a lot actually. I mean it’s really sad at the end, but all the scenes with Patrick were hilarious.”

“All the scenes?” Even repeats incredulously.

“Yeah, I mean he’s just so funny.”

“It wasn’t particularly funny, though, when his boyfriend called him names and started a fight with him.” Even’s voice is hard, no longer any hint of a smile on his lips. Isak slouches in his chair, determined not to say anything.

“Well, no, of course not. But like, apart from that,” Emma defends herself. Isak is pretty sure that this is not going to end well for her. Or him, for that matter. He’d rather not talk about the scene Even is describing.

“There’s nothing ‘apart from that’. The first part of the book maybe, but afterwards Patrick is profoundly affected by what has happened – obviously – and he starts drinking and wandering around the neighbourhood aimlessly with Charlie. I don’t really get what’s funny about that.” If that’s all that happens, maybe Isak could have continued watching the film.

“But it’s cute when Patrick kisses Charlie, though.”

Even’s brows look like they want to leave his face, he’s so incredulous. Isak would laugh if he weren’t uncomfortable with everything that’s going on around him. “Cute? It’s a bad coping mechanism and shows Charlie’s lack of agency that’s kind of the theme for the whole book. There’s nothing cute about it.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Whatever. How did you like the book, Isak?”

Isak hated the film, couldn’t even finish it, because his skin still crawls when he thinks of the scene in the cafeteria, so he says, “It was alright.”

Emma looks disappointed, but Even is positively gleeful. “Yeah, Isak? Maybe it’s your new favourite book.” He grins, no longer fake or strained.

“Fuck no,” Isak says before he can stop himself.

Even laughs out loud, while Emma watches Isak confusedly. Isak just shrugs. Emma stares at him for a bit longer, before she sighs loudly and says, “I think I’m gonna go see what the rest thinks about the book.”

“Do that,” Even tells her without any shame. Isak bites back laughter.

When she’s gone, Even turns back to Isak and puts his feet on the chair next to Isak. For a moment, Isak has an image in his head, where he stands between Even’s legs, his own hands perched on Even’s hips and their faces just centimetres apart. He shakes his head forcefully to dispel the thought.

“So, did you even read the book?” Even asks.

Isak waits a beat, before saying, “I watched half of the film. Does that count?”

“I don’t know depends on why you stopped in the middle of it.”

There is no way that Isak will tell Even why he stopped the film. “I fell asleep.”

Even purses his lips, scrutinising Isak, before nodding sagely. “Alright, yes, that counts. It’s still bad form and you should have definitely read the book, but I forgive you.”

“Oh, you forgive me? How kind of you.”

“I know. I am very kind and very wise.”

“Wise too?”

“Of course, what did you think?”

“I don’t know, maybe that you’re a pretentious book nerd,” Isak grins.

“Who says I can’t be all of that?”

“Kind, wise and pretentious book nerd Even?” Isak tilts his chair back, holding onto the chair Even has placed his feet on to keep from toppling over.

“Please, save me like that in your phone.”

“I don’t have your number.” Isak’s ribcage hurts with how fast his heart is pounding. Even smiles, pulling out his own phone.

“We can easily change that.”

Even texts him for the first time the next day. Because he really is a pretentious book nerd, it’s a fucking quote and Isak loses five minutes of his life to stare at his phone in disbelief. Really, this is who he has chosen to think about in the safety of his own bed when it’s dark outside.

The light is no mystery, the mystery is that there is something to keep the light from passing through, Even has sent him. Isak googles the quote, finds a short poem, reads it and still has no idea what Even wants to tell him, so he just texts back “why?”

He gets an answer barely two minutes later, saying, “you said yourself I’m pretentious”.

Against better judgment, Isak grins stupidly to himself and sends back the most exasperated emoji he can find. He’s still grinning, when Even texts again. He can’t seem to stop.

“Man, who the fuck are you texting all the time?” Jonas asks, when they’re once again in the cafeteria.

“No one,” Isak says, putting his phone in his back pocket. His phone vibrates as soon as he has put it there and he tries his best to seem innocent. Jonas doesn’t really buy it, but ultimately, he just shrugs.

“Wait is it that girl with the short hair?” Magnus buts in. He widens his eyes dramatically.

“What?” Isak straightens his snapback just to give his hands something to do.

“Like, there’s this girl with short hair and I overheard her talking about you yesterday.”

“What did she say?”

Mahdi grins, “She was probably sighing about how perfect Isak is and how lovely and that she really wants to get with him. Basically, everything you’re dreaming of Magnus.”

“Fuck you,” Magnus says without any heat. “And I have no clue what she said, I just heard her say your name a few times. I didn’t like stop and listen to her. That’d be creepy.” He waits for a beat. “Right?”

“Right,” Jonas agrees.

“So, are you texting her?”

“No, what the hell. I’ve seen her maybe twice,” Isak sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Be flattered. Magnus thinks you’ve got game,” Mahdi shrugs.

Isak mumbles something that’s largely incomprehensible, before changing the topic onto safer grounds. “When are we gonna go to a party again, anyway?”

“Friday. I think somebody mentioned that there’s one at -“ Jonas starts and the conversation is turned around so quickly as if nobody had ever talked of Emma and Isak before. Still, Isak waits until he’s in class to check his last text messages from Even.

Did you read tfios already? Even asks and then three more messages follow:

I’m guessing no.

Not that I’m surprised.

You disappoint me Isak.

Isak stares at his phone, typing out slowly: wtf is tfios?

The answer comes a minute later. Isak looks around to make sure that the teacher is not onto him, but she’s talking to some people in the front row so he’s safe.

The fault in our stars. You know the book we have to read. For book club. Which you also go to.

Isak sighs. The next meeting is only in ten days or so, but he still has no intention of actually reading the book. It’s some teen romance and he’d rather not. He has an image to uphold. Is there a film version? he shoots back.

Yes, but you’ll cry.

Wtf I don’t cry.

You will. I was sobbing the first time I saw it.

I won’t.

Wanna put it to the test?

Isak hesitates for a second. Sure.

Come over some time this week. I have the film at home. Isak looks up nervously again, as if anybody is interested in what or who he’s texting.

It feels like way too big a deal to text back, Okay. But I won’t cry.

Even only sends back, we’ll see.

Isak wipes his hands on his jeans. There are surprisingly clammy.

It’s a Thursday, when Isak sits on Even’s couch, underneath his elevated bed, Even’s laptop before them on his desk chair serving as a makeshift table. Isak can’t properly concentrate on the film for a couple of reasons, the first one being that Even is impossibly close. Whenever Isak so much as shifts he touches Even (his legs, his side, his hoodie) somehow. Isak tries to keep his hands to himself, takes to fiddling with the strings of his own hoodie, but the film is long and sometimes he has to change positions just so that his legs don’t fall asleep. If he can’t help but brush against Even, then sue him.

The other reason is that Even has taken to commenting on the film without pause, which makes following the actual film quite hard. Not that Isak minds, he’d rather listen to Even talk than watch a terminally ill girl fall in love with some boy. Maybe he should ask Vilde if there is a book version of “Fast and Furious” or something. Anything but this.

Even, however, is completely enthralled with both the story and the movie, judging from his comments about lighting, editing, angles of filming and the general talking about how perfectly the themes of the novel are captured in the movie. Isak nods at the right moments, but mostly it doesn’t seem like Even is really waiting for his input. That’s more than fine with Isak. He doesn’t have a lot to add to things like: “Look at this scene. I mean it’s already quite bold to have your characters kiss for the first time at the Anne Frank museum, but just look how they don’t notice anything around them. It also mirrors how they are still surrounded by death and resistance at the same time, you know. And they’re somewhere, where people used to hide, when – spoiler alert – Gus hides something himself. It’s amazing.” Isak just nods dutifully and smiles. Even’s enthusiasm is contagious.  

After about three quarters of the movie, Even remarks, “You’re not crying yet.”

Isak grins, “You’re commenting on every action of what – what’s the girl called?”

Even sighs, “Hazel. Really, pay attention, Isak.” He’s smiling.

“Whatever. You’re commenting on everything Hazel does. I’m not particularly invested.”

“It’s an amazing love story!”

“They’re both dying, what’s so amazing about it?”

“Well, a real love story has to end in tragedy,” Even muses.

“No, why would it have to end in tragedy? That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Otherwise it wouldn’t be a love story. It’s like ‘Romeo and Juliet’. You do know that one, right?” Even teases.

“Fuck you, I know ‘Romeo and Juliet’.”

Even grins. “Alright, I’ll keep quiet for the last part. You’re so going to cry.”

“Won’t,” Isak protests.

Isak has to bite the inside of his cheek so hard that he’s pretty sure he can taste blood, just so that he won’t cry.

“That’s horrible,” he says once the movie is over and he can speak without dislodging the tears stuck in his throat. “Why would Vilde want us to read that?”

“It was a bestseller a couple years ago.” Even shrugs. “She hasn’t really moved on to more niche literature yet. I hope she does.”

“Niche literature?”

“You know, anything other than mainstream young adult fiction. Not that I don’t love ‘The Fault in Our Stars’. It’s amazing.”

Isak can’t stop the grin that spread across his face. “Yeah, I noticed.” His voice sounds way too soft and he coughs a few times. Even just raises an eyebrow. Then, he gets up, rummaging around in a drawer and coming back with a joint. “Want to?” he asks and Isak nods.

Later, Isak remembers the afternoon as dipped into warm light and sunshine, although the air is bitingly cold when they open the window to let out the smoke. He remembers the sofa they stay on for hours, smoking and talking, Even opening a playlist at some point titled “Reading Tunes”. Isak mocks him for ten minutes straight, but it turns out that the music is nice and unobtrusive; it feels like the undercurrent that flows between them has taken on the shape of the music.

At some point, when it’s gotten late and after they’ve eaten some of the grossest toasts Isak has ever had the displeasure of tasting, Isak asks, “So, what literature are you into?” He’s half-lying on the sofa, Even on the floor with his back against it. Even lets his head fall back, his hair brushing against Isak’s trouser clad leg. He has to fight to keep his hands from reaching out and stroking through Even’s hair.

“Poetry, mostly.”

Isak wants to roll his eyes, he should roll his eyes, but somehow this makes perfect sense. Of course, Even is into poetry. He says this aloud. “I’m not surprised.” He might have had too much weed.

“And I thought I was mysterious.”

“You’re not.”

Even blinks at him. “Sad.”

Isak’s heart lurches and for whatever reason he can feel his cheeks heating up. He wants to look away, to make himself focus on something, anything else, but Even’s eyes are locked into his and he can’t escape. He doesn’t particularly want to, though. Quite suddenly, Isak thinks about kissing Even. About crawling up to him, leaning downwards and capturing his lips with his. He stops this train of thought abruptly, wrenching his gaze from where it has dropped to Even’s lips. “What kind of poetry?” he asks hoarsely, as if he has any idea of poetry at all.

“Long, hard to understand poetry. I think I know Richard Siken’s ‘Crush’ by heart.”

“Is that like, a book? Or just one poem?”

“A book.”

“You know a whole book by heart?”

Even shrugs, a shadow passing over his face briefly, before smiling dopily at Isak. “I guess I do.”

Isak can’t stop himself from falling a little bit faster for him.

Chapter Text

The party is mostly loud as far as Isak is concerned. Maybe, it’s because he’s still mourning the previous afternoon, which ended with Isak finally going home in the early evening, very happy and a lot out of his depth. The party can’t compete with Even. Isak is honest enough to admit that much.

He spots Magnus talking to Vilde (Magnus should go to the book club – maybe, Isak should propose that, except, then he’d have to talk to Magnus while he’s there and couldn’t just spend his time with Even, so Isak scraps that idea) and Mahdi juggling three beer cans in the kitchen. Isak isn’t quite sure whose party this is, but he also doesn’t particularly care.

He has a beer, is absentmindedly bobbing to the music and trying to find Jonas in the crowd. He vanished earlier, but Isak is kind of bored now and he really doesn’t want to dance or, god forbid, go and pull a girl. However, luck is not on his side as he doesn’t spot Jonas but Emma, who is shooting him a smile and might actually be nodding at him invitingly. Isak ducks his head, wandering away from Emma further into the crowd.

When he looks up again, he doesn’t see Emma but Even. His heart has a mind of its own it seems and starts beating faster immediately. It’s like he’s got a Pavlovian response to Even now, what the hell. Isak is slightly disgusted with himself, but mostly trying to figure out who Even is here with. He’s talking to some guy, when a girl comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle. Isak swallows heavily. The girl says something and Even laughs, putting his arms back, so that they’re awkwardly embracing, she on her tiptoes with her chin on his shoulder. Disappointment settles low in Isak’s stomach.

He’s distracted when Emma cuts into his field of vision, still a few metres away, but coming closer. Right, he needs to get rid of her immediately. His heart is trying to flee his ribcage, pounding and throwing itself against it, but he pays it no mind. He’s on a mission right now. One he’d rather not complete, but whatever. He can worry about this later.

He turns around again, walking onto the dance floor. There’s a girl with blonde hair there, who he knows has been eying him the whole evening. He’s avoided her look so far, not interested (never interested, a traitorous voice in his mind whispers) but this is about to change. He ends up in front of her, smirking and raising his eyebrows.

She smiles back, dancing closer to him. He’s on autopilot, putting his hands on her hips and tilting his head. Before he knows it, her lips are on his and they’re kissing. He’d like to feel nothing, but the only thing he can think about is that he needs Emma to see this to finally back the fuck off. So, he opens his eyes, turning the girl (God, he doesn’t even know her name) around to glance around the room. No one is paying attention to them, but then he locks eyes with Emma briefly, just as she turns on her heel and marches off. Perfect.

Before Isak can put an end to the kiss (is a kiss supposed to feel primarily wet?), he finds Even’s gaze. Even raises his eyebrows at him and all of a sudden, Isak feels sick. He disentangles himself from the girl, smiling at her apologetically, or what he hopes functions as apologetically, and makes his way outside. His heart is beating erratically, his hands are sweating and he can still taste the girl’s lip-gloss on his mouth. He wipes over it with the back of his hand.

When he’s finally outside, he finds a bench in the backyard of the house the party is held at and sits down heavily, putting his head into his hands. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, just sucking in air like he’s suffocating, and willing his heart to slow the fuck down. He needs to get himself together again, he doesn’t even know what triggered this. This feeling of helplessness and anger and fear and a longing for something he can’t quite name (doesn’t dare to name, really).

“Hi,” a familiar voice says. “Can I sit down?”

Isak should say no, should protest vehemently, should get up and leave, but what leaves his mouth is, “Yeah.”

Even sits down and Isak can see his beaten up sneakers in his peripheral vision. He concentrates on those, still trying to regulate his breathing. “You know, I really do know a lot of poetry by heart,” Even suddenly says. Isak wants to look up but he’s afraid of what Even will see when he does, so he keeps his head down, making a noncommittal noise to get him to keep speaking. “I don’t think you’ll believe me, though, if I don’t demonstrate it.”

Isak furrows his brows, although he’s aware that Even can’t see him. What the – and then Even starts quoting something. It takes a while for Isak to focus enough to actually make out the words, but when he does, they slowly bring him back into his own body.

“’For a while I thought I was the dragon. I guess I can tell you that now. And, for a while, I thought I was the princess, cotton candy pink, sitting there in my room, in the tower of the castle, young and beautiful and in love and waiting for you with confidence but the princess looks into her mirror and only sees the princess’,” Even says and Isak lifts his head. “’While I’m out here, slogging through the mud, breathing fire, and getting stabbed to death. Okay, so I’m the dragon. Big deal. You still get to be the hero.’”

Even takes a breath and Isak says, “You’re not the dragon.”

For a second, Even seems startled, before he smiles slowly. “Do you think I’m the princess, then?”

Isak blushes, shrugging. “You’re an idiot.”

“That hurts, Isak. That hurts.” Even puts a hand on his chest, exaggeratedly pulling a face. Isak wants to keep up their banter, but he’s tired and exhausted, his nerves still frayed, just barely encased by his body again, so he only sighs. He suddenly remembers the girl that had embraced Even before. “Did you leave your girlfriend behind to come out here?” he asks and wants to swallow the question back down as soon as he’s said it.

“My girlfrie- ah, Sonja. No, she’s my ex-girlfriend. And she can fend for herself. I think she wanted to hook up with one of the third years at the party anyway.” He waggles his eyebrows. “She’s trying her luck with younger men now.” 

“Younger men? You’re a third year, too.”

“Yeah, but I’m repeating third year. I changed to Nissen from Bakka. Sonja is way cleverer than I am and already out there in the real world.” Even grins.

It’s a lot of information to take in, so Isak focuses on the thing that comes to his mind firstly. “You’re still friends with your ex?”

“Yeah, she was my best friend before we got together. It just turned out it’s better being friends, you know. Why, did you drive all your exes away?” Even grins broadly.

Isak shifts uncomfortably on the bench, the cold slowly seeping through his jeans into his bones. “Erm, there’s just like, one girl and I guess, well, that wasn’t what I wanted.”

Even’s voice sounds serious when he says, “It wasn’t?”

“No.” Isak remembers Sara and the way kissing her felt like a chore, something to keep up appearances, like kissing the girl at this party.

“You’ve got time to figure out what you want, though,” Even says easily. When Isak looks at him, it takes everything not to say “I know what I want. I just don’t know how to get it.”

Instead, they sit outside for a few more minutes, before Even drags him back inside. Isak doesn’t protest: He likes having Even’s hand on the arm of his hoodie, pulling him along behind him.

“Sana, I finally want my weed back. This is getting ridiculous. It’s been like three weeks.” Isak is leaning against the table where Vilde is setting up her stuff for this week’s meeting. She glares at him when he accidentally rustles the sheets.

“Sure,” Sana answers nonchalantly.

“What?”

“I said sure. I’ll give it to you tomorrow. I don’t just carry it around with me.” Like other people goes unsaid, but Isak can clearly see it written in her eyes.

Isak throws his hands into the air. “Why didn’t you already give it back then?”

Sana frowns at him. “You didn’t ask for it. Obviously, it wasn’t that important to you.”

Isak wants to say something witty, but at that moment Even enters the class room and yeah, maybe Sana is right. It really wasn’t that important. Sana snaps her fingers in front of his face. “But you’ll continue to come to the meetings.” She sounds very sure of herself.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll come.” Isak pushes himself off the chair, walking to his usual seat and smiling to himself when Even falls into place next to him. It’s weird to have a ritual.

After a completely useless meeting (useless concerning the time spent talking to Even because Vilde decided they should have a group discussion of the book, alas there was little talking to Even), Vilde explains that next week they’ll discuss a book called ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’. When the majority of the group looks clueless, Vilde rolls her eyes and starts talking about how the book was very well received and even has a film adaption.

Isak turns to Even, hoping that Even has the DVD at home again, but he only sees Even biting his lip and staring dismayed at Vilde. “Don’t like the book?” Isak jokes, but it falls flat somehow.

Even shakes his head slightly. “No, not really. It’s … well it’s fine.”

“No more comments on it? I’m surprised. Normally, you could give me like an essay on the way the plot deals with, I don’t know, love?” It’s weird that Isak now knows this side of Even. It’s weird but Isak doesn’t mind.

Finally, Even looks at him, the group disbanding around them. “Yeah, I just,” his eyes flicker over Isak’s face, avoiding his gaze and Isak frowns. Then, Even looks at him straight on, a smile on his lips as if there had never been any hesitation etched onto his face. “Whatever, let’s just ditch next week. You won’t have to watch the film and we can do something more fun.”

“Like what?” Isak asks carefully.

“I’ll surprise you.”

Isak sometimes spots Even at school.

He spots him in the cafeteria, always sitting lazily on a chair and sometimes throwing an empty water bottle in the air just to catch it again. He spots him coming out of class, laughing with his friends. He spots him talking to someone on the phone, his eyes hard and the only thing Isak hears is “Don’t control me. It’s not your job anymore.” Isak ducks around the next corner to make sure that Even doesn’t notice him.

One time, though, Even comes up to him. It’s in the cafeteria, Isak is sitting with his friends and mostly trying to evade questions on who he hooked up with at the party (“I don’t remember her name.” “Whoa, you’re a savage, man!”), when Even stops in front of their table, carrying a book in his hands.

“The book we should read,” he says, throwing it at Isak. Isak is barely fast enough to catch it, glaring at Jonas when he snorts. He turns the book around: ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’. Isak wants to ask why Even is giving this to him when he told him that he hadn’t liked it. As if Isak is going to read it. He wants to ask if that means that they’ll attend next week’s meeting, never mind Even’s talk of skipping it. But he can feel his friends’ eyes on him, openly confused by who this is, and so the only thing he says is, “Thanks.”

Even lingers in front of their table for a few more moments, before nodding and leaving the cafeteria. Isak’s heart is trying to kill him in the meantime.

“Who was that?” Jonas asks.

Isak waves his hand. “Just someone from Vilde’s book club.” He puts the book in his bag without sparing it another glance. “By the way, Mahdi, guess what I’ve finally got,” he changes the topic rather ungracefully.

“No way, man!” Mahdi exclaims and no one mentions Even again.

At home, Isak briefly looks at the book, reading the blurb and finding out that it’s about some kid being committed into a psych ward. He drops the book again. No wonder, Even isn’t a big fan of it. It doesn’t sound like the topic is something for everyone. Why Even gave it to him is still a mystery, though.

Later, he is doing nothing productive on his phone, when he gets a new message from his mother. It’s another bible verse. He stares at his phone for way too long, before typing out Hi, mom. I’m fine. She sends back a heart and the guilt that has wrapped itself tightly across his heart a few months ago loosens up a little. At least for a few hours, before he remembers leaving again and the strings pull tight once more.

It's nothing new.

Oh, the things we invent when we are scared and want to be rescued, Even writes a few days later. Isak is sitting in his room, ignoring the fact that Eskild is yelling at him from the kitchen - please, finally, do the dishes, for fuck’s sake Isak some people don’t want to live in perpetual chaos - and frowning at his phone.

He takes to googling the text as he so often does because Even can’t just tell him where things are from, no, Isak has to find them himself. Plus, Isak mostly has no clue what Even wants to say with his quotes. Google tells him that it’s a quote by Richard Siken’s ‘Crush’ once again and the next thing Isak knows is that he’s ordered the book online. Maybe, he’ll finally get Even’s quotes then.

What he writes back, though, is, what do you wanna be rescued from?

Three dots appear, indicating that Even is writing something. Isak lies back on the bed, just as Eskild barges into his room. “Isak, can you please put away your dishes? You don’t have to constantly remind us that you are a teenager and useless at cleaning up after yourself.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it in a second.” He sneaks a look at his phone, where the three dots have disappeared, but there is no answer yet.

Because Eskild is horrible and nothing distracts him more quickly than prying for information concerning Isak’s private life, he says, “Ohh, who are you texting?” He leans against the doorframe as if he has plans to stay there for longer. Definitely not.

“Jonas,” Isak replies evenly, getting up to push Eskild out of his room.

“The dishes!” Eskild yells, when Isak has already closed the door in his face. Isak rolls his eyes again for good measure and opens the chat on his phone. Even has finally written back. School :( still up for skipping book club tomorrow?

Ofc, Isak types out quickly. Sometimes he thinks that he should wait for a longer period of time until replying to Even’s texts, but then he gets one from him and he can’t really stop his fingers.

Meet me at two in front of the school.

Isak doesn’t really know how they end up in the Museum for Resistance. Well, he does because Even led him there, but Isak doesn’t know why Even thought it’d be a good idea to visit it. Even must be able to see his confusion, but he just grins and pays for both of them. Isak can’t believe that he’s chosen this dork to follow around.  

They wander around the largely deserted rooms (“It’s not really tourist season yet and everyone else is still at school,” Even says), Even taking everything in, while Isak mostly looks at Even. The way he practically hops from one exhibition piece to the next, coming to stand before one for longer sometimes, just to take up his tour again after a few seconds. Isak is aware that he should probably care more about the actual museum but he excuses himself from feeling guilty about not caring that much with the fact that he’s been here before; granted, a few years ago, but still.

Isak thinks that Even just wants to drift from one room to the next, but after a while Isak is pretty sure that Even is searching for something. Whatever it might be. Isak doesn’t ask him, instead amusedly following his eyes, which are tracking the people around them or flickering from piece to piece.

Finally, Even comes to a stop in a rather tiny room, where they are the only ones. It’s one where there is only a painting on one of the walls and a huge window across from it. It’s a dead end, ensuring that not many people come into the room.

Even leans against the windowsill, beckoning Isak to come closer. Isak stands opposite him, glancing outside, before focusing his eyes on Even again. Even is staring straight at him, his eyes full of light. Isak wants to reach out and touch him. Anywhere. Just a tiny touch must be allowed, his brain whispers at him. He swallows down his longing, breathing in deeply.

“Why did you take me here?” Isak asks quietly. Any louder and he feels like he’d be breaking the curtain of silence and warmth that has wrapped itself around them.

“Didn’t you figure it out yet?” Even asks back, moving closer to Isak.

Isak sucks in a breath, his fingers curling around the ledge of the window. The longing surges upwards again, settling somewhere in his throat, which makes speaking difficult. “Give me a hint,” he says despite this.

“No, first I want you to say that I am mysterious.” Even’s voice is light and Isak fights hard to get his voice to be incredulous. “What? No, you’re not. If anyone is mysterious it’s me.”

“You?” Even laughs at him, delighted and his eyes crinkling.

“Yes? Don’t sound so unbelieving. I’ll have you know I’m the fucking master of being mysterious!” Isak’s heart is beating so quickly, so hard that it nearly hurts, and the longing is stuck in his throat, making speaking difficult and breathing and thinking about anything other than Please, let me be close to you and then Even looks at him, really looks at him, like he’s seeing Isak for the first time.

“Of course,” Even mumbles and Isak doesn’t remember what they’re talking about because Even is closing the gap between them and pressing his lips against Isak’s.

It seems as if the world stops spinning for the time Isak needs to close his eyes. Then, he really feels Even’s warm lips, how he has his mouth open just the tiniest bit and the world resumes its movement. Even backs off when Isak doesn’t respond, but Isak curls a hand in his jacket, holding him close.

He needs Even to understand that he wants this, although he can’t voice that yet; that he needs him to stay. Isak stares at Even, finding a smile on Even’s face and Isak takes every bit of courage that he has stored somewhere inside of him and crowds close to Even, kissing him once more. Even dips his head to meet him halfway, locking their lips together. Isak keeps his mouth closed for now, letting Even presses short, sweet kisses onto his lips. One of Even’s hands comes up to stroke over Isak’s cheek, while his own hands are less brave: one still holding onto Even’s jacket, the other settled in the crook of Even’s neck. Isak kisses him like he’s drowning when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He feels like he’s melting, like this is what he’s been waiting for.

He’s no longer falling; he hits the ground, standing surely on two feet.

Even spends the night at Isak’s, sneaking around so that none of Isak’s roommates see him. Their time is full of hushed laughter and exaggerated whispers, interrupted by soft kisses and the brushing of noses against each other.

They are lying on the bed when Isak suddenly looks up from his position on Even’s chest. “Did you plan to kiss me at the museum?” he asks.

Even cocks an eyebrow. “You’ll never know.”

“No, wait seriously, did you?”

“Maybe.”

“Wasn’t there this weird kiss in that faulty stars film we watched –“

“’The Fault in Our Stars’.”

“- where they kiss in the Anne Frank museum?”

Even has the decency to blush a little bit. “You know, it’s really sad that Oslo doesn’t have its own Anne Frank museum.”

“Oh my god,” Isak grins, flopping down on Even’s chest again. “You are horrible.”

“I just dream big that’s all. Why shouldn’t my life be a movie or a book?” Even pulls Isak closer still.

“Why shouldn’t it,” Isak agrees sleepily. “As long as it’s not a tragedy.” He tilts his head back to wordlessly ask for a kiss. Even complies with his wish, kissing his nose, his cheekbones, his chin and finally, his lips.

Isak feels like he’s bursting at the seams and for the first time, it’s not because of all the secrets he’s keeping.

In the morning, Even is still here, awake next to Isak and reading something.

Isak blinks heavily, rubbing a hand over his eyes and trying to get them to focus. For some inexplicable reason, Even is wearing a t-shirt (one that Isak is pretty sure belongs to him) and half-sitting against the wall. Isak feels suddenly underdressed in only his boxers.

Yesterday evening, they had shucked their clothes before climbing into bed. Nothing had happened (Isak is still in awe that he’s kissing another boy, he doesn’t have the capacities to think about anything else for the time being), but it had felt natural. Now, Even is wearing decidedly more than Isak and Isak draws the blanket up to cover his naked torso.

“Morning,” Even greets, grinning down at him.

Isak gives a vague grunt in response. It’s too early for so many feelings. It’s not too early for short kisses, though, so he doesn’t protest (would never protest) when Even kisses him. “What’re you reading?” he mumbles when Even leans back against the wall.

“The only thing I could find that wasn’t my copy of ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’.” Even holds up the book so that Isak can see what it is. It’s a Christmas present from last year (from when his parents were still under one roof, when he was still living there – he cuts that thought short): a book about the multiverse theory. “And you called me a nerd,” Even grins and Isak’s traitorous cheeks heat up.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, burrowing deeper into his pillow.

“Aw, no,” Even laughs and Isak hears him putting away the book. Suddenly, there’s an arm around his back, drawing him closer and getting him to look up again. Even’s face is only centimetres away from his, his thumb drawing patters on Isak’s cheek. “Come here,” Even smiles, pulling the blanket away a bit so that Isak has room to move to Even’s chest once more. He’s reminded that he’s still a little underdressed.

“Why are you wearing a shirt?” he whines, bunching Even’s shirt up with his hand.

“Because it was cold.”

“How can you be cold? We didn’t even keep the window open.”

“You normally keep the window open? It’s November, Isak. Do you want to die?”

“Jesus Christ, it’s not that cold.”

“You just want me to never leave your bed because it’s cold everywhere else.”

Isak grins up at him. “That must be it.”

“Can we stay here forever then?”

“We can,” he smiles and lets Even kiss him.

Isak is used to keeping secrets. It’s something of an art (an art that hurts, but art nonetheless) at this point. He knows how to mask the gaps in stories, fill them with unimportant chatter and change the topic of conversation in a heartbeat. He has learned that getting others to talk about themselves is the safest way of never mentioning the things that he keeps in a box labelled “unsafe” in his mind.

Sometimes it’s impossible to fill the gaps, though. Sometimes Jonas asks him how his mother is doing and Isak wants to say “I can’t stop feeling guilty, what if I could have done something to help, do you think I should have stayed”, but he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he shrugs and looks down. Mumbles something about being stressed out and just drops the word “mum”, so that Jonas knows not to ask. It’s one way of keeping a secret.

Sometimes it’s not enough to fill the gaps with stories of pretence and make-believe. Sometimes he has to go to parties, drown himself in alcohol and find a girl to make out with. Then, he has enough ammunition for at least a couple weeks to get the boys off his back, to join in with embellished stories about who hooked up with whom.

His skin never stops crawling during those moments because the thing about secrets, about becoming really good at lying by omission or exaggeration is that it costs energy. Isak can’t remember a time when he wasn’t tired any longer. He can’t remember what it was like before. Before telling Eva that he had a crush on her, before looking at Jonas and being afraid of him catching his look, before admitting to himself quietly and softly that girls just weren’t his area of interest.

This is why Isak expects this new secret called Even to feel the same. To constantly feel like locking something away, like his skin is too tight around his bones, like there is a wall behind his teeth, ensuring that he never ever lets out something that wasn’t meant to see the light of day.

Even doesn’t feel like that at all.

It’s like Isak can breathe, like he’s bursting into a thousand colours and simply looking at Even makes his heart beat faster. For the first time, he wants to tell his friends about a secret. For the first time, it takes effort to think about not letting Even’s name slip out when they’re sitting in the cafeteria. For the first time, he feels like maybe he could actually dismantle the wall between his teeth or at least let out the occasional word.

It’s so scary that it’s exhilarating.

They last a week without anyone catching them. Well, without anyone catching them who isn’t Eskild. Eskild takes one look at Isak after Even had finally left that weekend and says, “So, did Jonas’ shoes give you a giant love bite on your neck?”

Isak slaps a hand on his neck, blushing a deep crimson. “What?” he definitely doesn’t squeak.

“If I remember correctly, Isak, you told me that those were Jonas’ shoes that I saw in front of your room.”

“Right.” Isak might have said that, but this really can’t be held against him when Even was lying next to him and distracting him with his mere presence.

“So, I’m guessing Even gave you that hickey?” At Isak’s shocked look, Eskild sighs loudly. “Really, Isak this is a tiny flat. If you bring another person home, and especially if it happens to be such a fine specimen as Even, then someone is bound to notice.” Isak’s eyes have been getting progressively wider and while he is thinking about what exactly his next mode of action is going to be, Eskild already starts talking again, “I met him in the bathroom. He seemed very nice. Is he nice?” Eskild’s voice drops a little.

“He’s, erm, very nice?” Isak can’t really believe that he’s having this conversation.

“Good. If you need anything, I’m here,” Eskild says.

“Erm, thanks.”

“Seriously, anything. I don’t trust you not to accidentally pick up an STD or –“

“Oh my god, stop talking Eskild.” Isak does not flee to his room. He walks extremely fast and hopes that Eskild will never talk about this with him again.

(In the evening, when he’s texting Even he suddenly realises that he just came out to Eskild, even if Eskild did most of the talking. It makes his chest ache in a weirdly good way.)

Chapter Text

Isak is lying in bed next to a boy and in awe that this is his life. It makes his lungs contract with how giddy he is (and scared, but that part he puts out of his mind as quickly as possible, he has practice not dealing with unwanted thoughts) when Even says, “So, what would you say if we were dating?”

Even says this on the third consecutive day he has spent in Isak’s bed, when their sneaking around is half-hearted at best and, at worst, actually greeting Eskild before they barge into Isak’s room in the afternoon. Isak apparently forgets to answer Even because he puts a finger underneath Isak’s chin, which is resting on his chest, and tips it upwards. Even cocks an eyebrow and really, he should look stupid with how much he does that, but Isak doesn’t care.

“Okay,” Isak says.

“Okay?” Even cards his fingers through Isak’s hair. “That’s all you have to say? I’m wounded, Isak.”

Isak rolls his eyes. Twice for good measure. “Well, I thought you’d ask me in a really pretentious way and not just straightforward, so ‘okay’ is all you’re going to get,” he says drily.

“Do you miss my pretentious quoting of poetry that you don’t know anything about?”

“First of all, I so do know something about poetry.” He doesn’t, not at all, but admitting defeat is not going to happen. Even just smiles at him. “Secondly, I don’t miss your pretentious quoting.”

Even is silent, before finally saying, “’Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there? The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube?’” His voice is low and there is still a smile on his lips. Isak feels something inside of him breaking loose. “Better?” Even asks.

“You’re so sappy.” Isak is not blushing.

“That’s not a complaint,” Even gets out, before Isak braces himself on his hands to lean up and kiss Even. Maybe Even really does melt him like a sugar cube, but he will never admit this to anyone.

Isak’s hands are clammy, he’s contemplating just turning around and not doing this, but then he forces his feet to carry him to Jonas’ door and rings the bell.

Jonas opens the door, his phone at his ear, and rolling his eyes. “Right, mom, yes, I will,” he is saying as Isak comes in and slips out of his shoes. He follows Jonas into his room, flopping onto the couch and pulling his own phone out of his pocket as long as Jonas is still busy.

These, our bodies, possessed by light. Tell me we’ll never get used to it, Even writes and Isak doesn’t have to google it to know that it’s one of his quotes. He smiles down at his phone, biting his lip and simply texting back, Sap <3.

“Why are you grinning at your phone?” Jonas asks, obviously done with his phone call, sitting down next to Isak and handing him a controller for a game of FIFA.

Isak’s first instinct is to say “Nothing”. His second is to say “Your mom is texting me”, while leering at Jonas because they are both twelve and there is nothing Jonas hates more than “Your mom” jokes, meaning Isak is always down to annoy Jonas with them. His third instinct is to keep silent and work out what to say, while Jonas sets up the game.

Isak knows that he wants to share the news about Even with Jonas, wants to stop hiding everything and simply share the joy of being with Even with someone. It’s just that he’s so used to not saying anything, to keeping it all inside that now his tongue doesn’t know how to let the words out. Doesn’t even know how to properly form them.

Jonas throws him a sideway glance. “Everything okay, man?”

“Do you remember the guy from Vilde’s book club?” Isak blurts out, and God, he wants to take this back. It feels like his body is physically rebelling, but for once his mind is the force overriding his body and deciding that he will tell Jonas about Even. He breathes in as subtly as possible, but Jonas is following his every move with his eyes.

“Uh, yeah? The tall one, who gave you a book?”

Isak nods. “Yeah.”

“Is he texting you?” Jonas asks because he’s way smarter than Isak likes to give him credit for. Isak nods again. “So, you’re…friends?” Jonas hedges and it would be so easy to say yes, to leave this conversation at that and turn to FIFA. Instead, Isak shakes his head, then nods, before ultimately settling on shaking his head.

“I’m guessing he’s not annoying you, judging from that smile you got when you read his text.”

Isak’s cheeks feel slightly too hot. “Not really. That’d be awkward,” he croaks out.

“Awkward?” Jonas grins at him, before choosing a team or something. Isak wouldn’t know because he can’t bear to look away from Jonas to take in his every reaction. What if this is a mistake? What if he should just keep quiet and change course as fast as possible? What if he – “Yeah,” Isak breathes. “We kind of have a thing.”

Jonas nods, eyes still focused on FIFA in front of him. Isak holds his breath. “What’s his name?”

“Even.”

“Cool.”

“Cool?”

“Well, I mean you seem happy when he texts you, yeah?” Jonas looks at him again, continuing when Isak nods. “Then, cool.” Jonas grins easily.

“Cool,” Isak echoes once more. His heart feels like it’s bruised from pounding so fast.

“Now, I’m gonna kick your ass at FIFA. And you can go crying to your boyfriend when you lose.”

Isak tries to rein in the beam threatening to spill out across his face. “I won’t lose, what the hell!” He loses abysmally, but it’s alright, he’s got a good excuse: He can’t stop thinking about how casually Jonas referred to Even as his boyfriend.

“Are you kidding me?” Isak mumbles under his breath, while Even seems like he will start jumping on the spot out of sheer delight. “That’s horrible. Why would we want to read this?”

“Oh, poor you,” Even pouts at him. “So sad that you have to read a classic.”

“There’s definitely a film version of that book. It’s ancient.”

“It’s a classic, Isak! If at all, you read the book then watch the film. Otherwise, you won’t get how amazing the language really is.”

“It’s fucking old English. How would the language be amazing in any way?” Isak puts his head back. He’s sitting next to Even in the cafeteria, enough space between them to not cause any rumours and waiting for Jonas, Mahdi and Magnus. It feels weirdly fine and his heart only picks up pace when he thinks people are staring at them, which is ridiculous as Even had pointed out the day before. “Boys are allowed to be friends. I mean they’re also allowed to be more,” Even had waggled his eyebrows, “but no one is going to think anything when you’re just sitting next to me.”

“Please stop hurting me this way,” Even sighs, clutching his heart.

“You need to stop pretending as if my criticism of books is physically affecting you,” Isak grins.

“There’s no pretending. You called ‘Romeo and Juliet’ useless five minutes ago. It still feels like you put a stake through my heart.”

“What are you, a vampire? Who can be killed with a stake through your heart?”

For a second, Even looks a bit more serious. “Did you read ‘Dracula’ or –“ He stops mid-sentence. “If you read it, you’d know that Dracula isn’t actually killed with a - You probably watched some really awful film about vampires that’s why you know how to kill them.”

“It wasn’t a film. It was a TV show.”

“If it was ‘The Vampire Diaries’ this relationship is over.”

Isak looks around, but no one is sitting in hearing range, so he allows himself to relax. “You’ll never know, will you?”

“What will Even never know?” Magnus asks, settling in next to Even, but not before hugging him. Isak smothers a grin. Badly. He doesn’t get how his life has been turned around in just the last few days, starting with Jonas and now Magnus and Mahdi. Telling them had been joint effort with Jonas. Mostly, it had resulted in Magnus discussing whether he could be gay as well (and Isak can’t really say that word out loud yet; baby steps he tells himself), simply because he also had never slept with a girl before.

Jonas had groaned loudly, while Mahdi had simply said, “Dude, do you think about having sex with guys?”

“No? But I –“

“Then no,” Mahdi had interrupted. “You aren’t gay. When you start thinking about sex or relationships with guys we’ll get back to you being gay or bi or pan or whatever.” This had started a discussion about different sexualities, something Isak knew very, very little about, but he had smiled to himself in any case.

Isak returns to the conversation at the table, where Even is just saying, “Isak is a literary snob. Vilde told him that we have to read ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for the next book club meeting and he refuses to read it.”

“Dude, it’s Shakespeare. You should at least read one book by him,” Mahdi says and Even gives him a broad smile.

“What the hell, you read Shakespeare?” Isak splutters. His friends are fucking traitors.

Mahdi shrugs. “It’s a classic.”

“Ha, see, Isak, not everyone shares your horrible idea of not reading anything.”

“I read,” Isak protests.

“Wikipedia doesn’t count,” Even says, patting his head quickly. Isak rolls his eyes. “Anyway, Mahdi, did you read ‘Romeo and Juliet’?”

“Yeah, man. The dick jokes alone are hilarious.”

“There’s dick jokes in it?” Magnus pipes up. “Maybe I should read it. Should I come to the book club?”

Isak sighs, exchanging looks with Jonas, who seems completely content to just let the others talk about ‘Romeo and Juliet’. Then, Isak returns his look to Even, who is excitedly discussing Shakespeare with Mahdi, and Isak smiles. He didn’t think that he could ever have this.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Isak is happy. He gets texts with stupid quotes, has heated discussion about whether Even should be made to watch one of the film versions of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ (“There’s only film version that counts, Isak. Baz Luhrman!”) without commenting on it (Isak doesn’t really want that, it’s just funny seeing Even make valid points before resorting to cheap tactics like kissing Isak for as long as it takes him to forget what side he was on anyways) and sometimes finds scraps of paper in his locker with more quotes:

Here is the cake, and here is the fork, and here's the desire to put it inside us, and then the question behind every question: What happens next?

Isak thinks he doesn’t care so much about what happens next. Not when his heart is bursting with joy and he has Even next to him most evenings. He’s in love, the ground beneath his feet sturdy and if he stretches out his hand, he’s reasonably sure that Even will take it.

“Let’s go on an adventure,” Even says, taking his hand and tugging him into the hallway of the flat.

“Shh, we need to be quiet,” Isak laughs, letting himself be tugged along.

Even voice drops to a very bad imitation of a whisper, “Adventure. Now.”

“What kind of adventure?”

Even shrugs, already pulling his jacket off the hook and throwing it over his shoulders. “The kind where we go out and discover Oslo at night. Whatever happens.”

“Whatever happens? What if we get stabbed?”

“Then it’ll happen,” Even grins. “But I doubt it. Now, put on your jacket, come on.”

Isak smiles, taking his own jacket and saying, “You’re one of those people who can’t whisper properly, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” Even protests, his voice still slightly too loud as he opens the door, ushering Isak through.

Later, Isak finds out that Even wasn’t lying.

They end up skipping the next book club meeting, too. Isak is a bit taken aback when Even suddenly shows up before his last class and declares that they really don’t have to go to the book club when they could just spend the afternoon doing something more worthwhile.

“I thought you wanted to discuss ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and show everyone what kind of superior knowledge you have on it?” Isak frowns, putting his hands in his pockets because it seems like Even wants to reach out to touch them and they’re in school.

“Nah, let’s do something else. I don’t want to sit still for so long.”

Isak snorts. “It’s an hour, but okay, sure. What do you want to do?”

They end up smoking in Even’s room, the window open and listening to music. It feels strangely reminiscent of the first time Isak had visited Even. This time, though, Even gets up at some point to start dancing to the music, nagging Isak until he joins him and they are swaying quite badly to the music. Laughing, Isak puts his hands around Even’s neck to tug him into a kiss and declares that this counts as dancing.

They don’t dance-kiss for long, before Even blinks a few times and suggests they go out to get something to eat. Isak doesn’t protest.

“You did what?” Isak asks, when he meets up with Even before school, dodging his attempt to kiss him right there. Isak smiles apologetically, but this is something he can’t do. Not when it still feels like his heart is trying to climb up his throat whenever he thinks about others seeing him and Even together. Even just shakes his head, before beaming at him and repeating, “I read two new novels yesterday.”

“When? We spent the whole day together.”

Even rolls his eyes moving his head with it. “I didn’t spend the night at yours.”

“So, you didn’t sleep?” Isak asks slowly.

Even still seems impossibly happy. “Nope. Who needs sleep when you got books, right?”

“Right,” Isak says, before Even starts talking excitedly about the novels.

The whole day it seems like Even can’t stop talking. Not in the way that Isak is used to. Not in the way that he always has a comment or opinion on something, but usually lets others talk as well, actively asking for their comments and opinions. This is not the case this time.

Even talks about everything and nothing. He meets Isak nearly every break, not caring how short it is, and whenever they meet, he’s got something new to tell him. During lunch break, which they spend together as Jonas, Mahdi and Magnus all have to work on a project, Isak sometimes can’t even follow Even’s train of thought. Even’s extra explanations only end up further confusing Isak, so he keeps his mouth shut, nodding in-between and watching Even.

His eyes are huge; his hands ruffling through his hair, fiddling with his phone and sometimes just balling into fists. Isak swallows hard. He’s got a bad feeling about this, but he can’t put his finger on it.

This night Even once again sleeps over at Isak’s.

Isak harbours the faint hope that Even will just fall asleep instantly, seeing as he has to be sleep-deprived from reading two novels the night before. Instead, Even is more awake if that’s possible.

For a while, Isak gets him to calm down by distracting him with kisses, both of them shedding their shirts and trousers, only ending up in their boxers. Isak kisses along Even’s body, sucking on the skin and trying to give Even something of his own calmness, but ultimately it doesn’t help.

Isak is nearly asleep around two o’clock, when Even is still alarmingly awake next to him and leafing through a book. “I hate that book, you know?” Even says and Isak forces his eyes open. He can make out ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’ in Even’s hands and he swallows a sigh.

“You don’t have to read it,” Isak mumbles into his pillow.

“I already read it. A while ago.” Isak nods, his eyes closing involuntarily again. He opens them, when he can feel Even lying down next to him, his fingers stroking over Isak’s jaw, his neck, his collarbones. “I’m so sorry that it doesn’t work like that for me.”

“Like what?” Isak blinks a few more times.

“Like in the story. It didn’t work like that for me. Sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Isak draws Even closer to himself, happy to just throw an arm around his waist, so that their chests meet. He looks at Even through heavy lids. Even’s eyes are only visible whenever a car passes in front of the window, its lights suddenly illuminating them. Isak isn’t sure what he sees in them.

“Nothing,” Even says, a smile on his lips all of a sudden. “It’s fine.” He grins broadly and Isak wants to ask more but he figures he’s got time for that tomorrow. The important thing is that they both sleep now. So, he presses another kiss to the corner of Even’s mouth and closes his eyes.

When he wakes up, Even is gone.

“Where’s Even?” Jonas asks when Isak shows up alone at lunch break.

“No idea,” Isak says and his voice only breaks once.

“What’s going on?”

“No idea,” Isak repeats. “I think I’m gonna head home early. Still within the ten percent,” he tries to joke, but worry is eating at him. Jonas doesn’t ask him anything else, so Isak doesn’t feel too bad ignoring his anxious look.

It’s not as if he’s not hearing from Even. In fact, his phone has been blowing up with texts from Even since the early hours of the day. The first text was sent at 4:30 am, leading Isak to believe that Even didn’t spend the whole night. He tries to quell the uneasiness in his stomach to no avail.

4:30

I said my arms are very long and your head’s on fire. I said kiss me here and here and here and you did.

5:18

Here we are in the weeds again, here we are in the bowels of the thing: your world doesn't make sense.

7:42

You just wanted to prove that there was one safe place, just one safe place where you could love him. You have not found that place yet.

9:02

I'm battling monsters, I'm pulling you out of the burning buildings and you say I'll give you anything but you never come through. 

11:51

Monsters are always hungry, darling, and they’re only a few steps behind you, finding the flaw, the poor weld, the place where we weren’t stitched up quite right

11:52

the place they could almost slip right through if the skin wasn’t trying to keep them out, to keep them here, on the other side of the theater where the curtain keeps rising. I crawled out the window and ran into the woods. 

14:25

A man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he’s still left with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he’s still left with his hands.

16:09

We pull our boots on with both hands but we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do is stand on the curb and say

16:10

Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

21:21

We've read the back of the book, we know what's going to happen. The fields burned, the land destroyed, the lovers left broken in the brown dirt. And then it's gone.

Isak writes back. Writes What’s going on? Writes Even, are you alright? Writes Okay, no, that’s a stupid question, you’re obviously not. Talk to me. Writes Tell me what’s going on. Writes Are you home? Are you somewhere safe? Writes We’re not lovers left broken in the brown dirt. Nothing’s gone if you just tell me what’s going on.

Sucks in a breath and writes Please, Even, I’m worried.

He gets a response sometime after midnight. He doesn’t have to scramble for his phone, it’s lying on his chest, vibrating once. Isak picks it up so fast, he is blinded by the too-bright screen, but it doesn’t matter because there is a text from – not from Even, but an unknown number.

Hi. This is Sonja, Even’s friend. He’s home and resting. Nothing bad happened.

Isak stares at his phone, before typing out, Okay, good. What’s going on? He’s going to worry about Even’s ex being with him some other time, right now there are more important things going on.

The response comes a few minutes later. I think you and Even should talk. Just not now. Wait a few days.

And then, before Isak can send anything else back, Sonja writes another message. I told him to tell you.

A horrible thought occurs to Isak when his eyes land on Even’s paperback version of ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’. He doesn’t ask Sonja what Even should have told him.

Sleep is a lost cause anyway, so Isak spends the rest of the night reading and at times skimming ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’. At first, he is merely bored by everything happening; he doesn’t like the writing style; he doesn’t like the main character; he hates most of the secondary characters; his eyes keep flickering to his phone, which he blames on the book being stupid and not at all what he wants to do with his free time; he misses part of the plot because he can’t stop thinking about Even.

There are some things that stick with him, though. The main character Craig suffers from depression. And anxiety. And somehow also an eating disorder. Isak a bit overwhelmed, but if Isak is then it makes sense for Craig to admit himself into a mental hospital. Still, Isak stops reading at that point to look at the ceiling, contemplating whether to read on or simply give up. He’s barely put the book out of his mind, when thoughts of Even intrude and his heart starts beating faster, his lungs feel trapped inside his chest and he picks up the book again.

Isak skims through the parts in the mental hospital. There’s a love story and weird patients and Isak doesn’t really know what to do with either, so he opts for ignoring it. Even’s words keep echoing in his ears “I’m sorry it didn’t work like in the story.” Isak turns the pages faster and faster, but he can’t work out what didn’t work. The suicide attempt (please, God, no, Isak can’t breathe for long minutes and he hopes that this is not what Even meant, please, no)? The love story (but Isak is here, Even is the one who left, Isak will still be here tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and he can’t imagine stopping being here)? The stay in the mental hospital (Isak is no stranger to those, he remembers his dad dragging his mom into one and her screaming and refusing to go; in the end Isak took her home)?

Then he gets to the end of the book, where Craig is not happy, but appreciative of life. Not cured, but there are three whole pages describing how aware Craig is of everything around him, of his own life, of the little moments that count. And maybe that is what didn’t work.

Isak has no idea what Even suffers from, just that he is sure that he suffers from something. He curls in on himself, the book lying forgotten on the floor and stares at the window. The tears slipping out of his eyes leave an icy trail behind that he refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t go to school the next day. He also doesn’t text Jonas, but Jonas texts him anyway about halfway through the day, which Isak has so far spent exclusively in bed.

Hey, man. Everything alright?

Isak ignores the message for a good hour because a tiny part of him had hoped that it was Even who had texted. He finally replies, no, something’s wrong with even, don’t know what.

Shit. Wanna talk about it?

Isak doesn’t, which he writes back and Jonas honours that because he’s a good friend. Mostly Isak doesn’t even know where to start were he to talk to Jonas.

On the second day, he goes to school, faintly hoping that Even will turn up. He doesn’t, making Isak sit in the cafeteria and frowning at his lunch.

“Who died?” Magnus asks, sitting down heavily next to him and letting his tablet fall onto the table.

“Mags, watch it,” Mahdi shouts, when Magnus’ coke nearly falls over. Jonas intervenes swiftly by grabbing it and righting the half-open bottle again. Isak follows the whole ordeal without even so much as lifting a finger to help.

“Hello, earth to Isak. I asked you who died?” Magnus waves his hand in front of Isak’s face until Isak bats him away tiredly.

“What?” he mutters, returning his eyes to the sad looking toast on his plate. It reminds him of the stupid toasts he ate with Even what seems like a lifetime ago. He suddenly feels his eyes burning and he blinks quickly to dispel the feeling. He needs to sleep. And to talk to Even, except right now, both of these things seem impossible.

“You look like shit,” Magnus says, yelping when Jonas digs his elbow in his ribs. “What? It’s true. Also, where’s Even? Wait, did you break up?” Magnus sounds like Isak feels: completely shocked and hopelessly in the dark about everything.

“No,” Isak grits out. “For that he’d have to talk to me.”

“What’s going on?” Mahdi asks. Isak busies himself with ripping off pieces of his toast.

“No idea. He got like really hyper and happy, read two books in one night apparently and didn’t sleep at all or very little in the last few days,” he breathes because he can’t stop himself anymore. Whatever, maybe they really did break up and Isak is just too stupid to get it? Oh God, what if that’s the case, what if Even has returned to Sonja and he – Isak takes a deep breath and continues, “And then he left sometime in the night two days ago and just sent me weird poems? About monsters and how it’s all gonna end in chaos or something.”

“Don’t you understand his weird poetry at this point?” Jonas asks, his brow furrowed.

Isak shrugs. “It sounded like he was scared or haunted, which makes no sense because he was happy before, alright? Like really, obnoxiously happy.” We both were, he nearly adds. “And then his ex texted me at like midnight that he was home and safe and that Even and I should definitely talk and that there’s something that he should have told me about. I don’t know.” Isak’s toast is more of a battle field  now, pieces lying everywhere on his plate.

“Whoa,” Mahdi breathes.

“Yeah.”

“Any idea what this could be about?” Jonas shoots him a look.

Isak internally debates whether he should talk about this, but then decides to fuck it. He has no idea what to do or how to talk to Even, never mind how to maybe actually help him, he can voice his suspicions to his friends at least. “There’s this book that he keeps talking about, even though he hates it and the protagonist is depressed and has anxiety, so maybe he has something like that. But I don’t know it doesn’t really fit.” Isak shrugs.

“Nah, dude. You said he was really happy, right? And then he took off and now you can’t get a hold of him,” Magnus repeats and Isak nods. “Sounds like my mom,” Magnus grins broadly.

“What?” Isak is so lost.

“She’s bipolar. So sometimes she’s manic and extremely happy about everything and thinks she’s on top of the world – which is hilarious, the things she sometimes does, seriously – and afterwards, she’s depressed and can’t get up.” For a second, Isak mostly wants to ask how he never knew this, but then he remembers his own mother and how mothers don’t really come up in their conversations. Right, no wonder he didn’t know this.

“But she’s fine?” Isak asks.

“Yeah, sure. She’s great,” Magnus says easily.

“Maybe you should just talk to Even,” Jonas buts in. “I mean Mags could be right, but this is still all speculation.”

“He doesn’t react to my texts, though.”

“Dude, if I’m right, he’s depressed as fuck right now, he’s not gonna text you back. Tell him he should text you when he can, you know. You’re gonna have to wait.” Magnus shrugs.

“You know, Mags, you’re really quite intelligent,” Mahdi grins.

“Of course I am. Oh my God, if I am right about Even do I get like a prize? Because I –“

Jonas is the first to laugh, Mahdi joining in shortly after and Isak smiling a little as well. Fine, he’s going to give Even time then, no matter that he still can’t breathe properly when he thinks of him.

Hey, Even. Text me when you can, please. I just want to talk to you.

Knowing that Isak is waiting on Even doesn’t make the time pass more quickly, though. Rather it makes the hours drag by and he feels catapulted to a few weeks ago when his days also looked like this: going to school, coming back home, playing video games, watching Netflix, eating something, doing homework, going to sleep.

Something inside of him aches and it must show because Eskild is ridiculously nice to him. He brings him leftovers from dinner and doesn’t complain when Isak’s dishes pile up on his bedside drawer. He asks him regularly if he needs anything (“Space, Eskild. That’d be amazing.” “Aww, there is the grumpy teenager that I have missed so much.”) and on one memorable occasion invites him to go to a club with him.

“No,” Isak says, not taking his eyes from the laptop screen in front of him. He has no clue what he’s watching, just that it’s mind-numbing and exactly what he needs.

Eskild stays silent for so long, Isak thinks he’s left, but when he looks up, he’s still standing there in the doorway. “You know that heartbreak ends, right?”

Isak refuses to say anything to that, so Eskild leaves with a sigh and another “Tell me if you need anything”. Isak barely nods.

Sometime in-between all that, a rumour spreads around the school like wildfire that Isak is gay, that he has a thing with Even, that Even is some kind of psycho. Isak flinches when he hears that word thrown around carelessly in the hallways, but he refuses to look at the people saying anything. There’s another rumour that the first one was started by a girl with short hair, but Isak doesn’t know if that’s true. He has no idea how Emma would even be aware of any of that, so he just tries to keep out of everyone’s way as best as possible.

During his lunch break, he can barely stay seated as he waits for the others: He feels as if everyone is looking at him. His skin is crawling. And then, Jonas turns up, Mahdi and Magnus in tow. They sit close to him, talking about stupid things that Isak doesn’t pay attention to, but their chatter keeps the feeling of having everyone’s attention on him at bay.

It must have only been few minutes, when Vilde suddenly takes a seat next to Magnus, gesturing towards Eva, who is coming near them, chair dragging behind her because their table is full, but that doesn’t deter them. Isak watches Eva and Sana and Chris sitting down around them, mostly holding their own conversations, but none of the other boys comment on their new neighbours at the table.

Magnus starts talking to Vilde, or at least tries to, while Mahdi leans around him to ask Eva something. Sana holds Isak’s stare for a moment, before shrugging and going back to eating her lunch. Isak turns his gaze to look at Jonas.

Jonas just smiles at him, shaking his head slightly. “What? Did you think we’d let you sit here alone and stew? No way, man.”

Isak can’t say anything but he stops hearing his heartbeat quite so loud in his ears.

On the fifth day of complete radio silence from Even, Isak finds a parcel he ordered at some point and forgot about. Well, not forgot, more like put into the back of the closet (and isn’t that ironic) because he thought it better if Even didn’t find out how whipped Isak was. Still is. He rips it open, taking out a brand-new edition of ‘Crush’ and takes it into bed.

After the first part of the book, he gets up to find some tissues. His stupid nose and eyes are running and not listening to his mind’s commands to get it together. There is a quote that says, “You know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore” and Isak debates never picking the book up again, which seems to be a running theme when Even’s books are involved.

But this is Even’s favourite book. Isak is sure of that, no matter that Even doesn’t call it that. This is the one he knows by heart and Isak is determined to finish it. He’s determined to share this with Even when he’s somewhere else, somewhere Isak can’t reach him, so he takes a break, dries the tears on his cheeks and continues reading when he has regained some control over his emotions.

It’s the early morning when he’s finally reached the last poem. He’s been circling the quotes that he recognises from Even’s texts all night, but in this last poem he finds most of them. He reads it twice, taking a different pen to highlight his own stuff.

When he falls asleep, it’s with the words of the poem at the forefront of his mind, the book lying next to him on the pillow reserved for Even.

Six days after he has last heard from or seen Even, Isak texts his mom. It takes him about half an hour to compose the text, but when it’s finished it’s barely two lines long. He sends it without looking it over, scared that he will delete if he thinks too much about it.

Hi, mom. There’s a boy I really like and I thought you should know that. I’m sorry if that makes you sad. Hugs, Isak.

It’s late afternoon when he gets a reply. My lovely boy, this doesn’t make me sad, it makes me very happy for you. I love you always, mom.

Isak’s heart still hurts, still feels tender and raw from the week he’s had, but his mother’s words soothe something a tiny bit. Some of the weight on his shoulders falls away, making breathing slightly easier. In a spur of the moment decision, he writes, I’m sorry I left you.

He remembers the day, where everything got to be too much, clearly. It was three weeks after his dad had left, three weeks with just his mom, who was sure that there were people out to get her, demons in the house or in Isak’s room, who made him sleep in the living room with her once so she could protect him. Three weeks of nearly no sleep and the horrible notion that when he came home he would see his mother completely gone.

He left when she was screaming at him without recognising who he was. He left and he called his dad and said, “You need to do something. Anything. Get her help, but I can’t.” He left and guilt and terror wrapped themselves tightly around his chest.

After another month, one that his mother spent in a mental hospital (this time she went, not voluntarily, but somehow they got her to go and Isak doesn’t want to know anything about this, about this whole month that he spent in a trance-like state, where he pretended he had no mother to worry about), she came to live somewhere else. A small flat, his dad told him, but Isak couldn’t bring himself to visit her; the fear that she was not going to know him too great to brave. But he texted her, said I hope you’re better and she sent back bible verses and hearts. At least, she seemed to know who he was.

Most days, Isak knows that he couldn’t have stayed, but that doesn’t make the guilt of leaving disappear. So, for the first time, he writes her that he’s sorry and hopes she knows what he means.

She texts him back merely minutes later.

There’s nothing to be sorry for. I love you lots.

Isak hugs the second pillow close to his chest, letting it soak up tears of heartache and sorrow and relief.

It’s Friday, when Isak gets a text in the middle of his English class. He fumbles around with his phone, his fingers slipping on the touch screen when he reads Even’s name.

Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Especially that, but I should have known, it says and Isak wants to reply, but Even is faster. This time he uses his own words:

I’m sorry Isak. I should have told you about me. That I’m bipolar. Sorry for scaring you. Sorry this is not the story I hoped it would be. Somewhere, there’s a different story, a different poem where we will get our happy end. This is not it. Love you, Even.

Isak’s heart is beating out of his chest and he clumsily types out a message to Sonja, hoping she will respond. Is Even still at home?

He jiggles his leg continuously, watching the clock (just five more minutes and this lesson is over), while simultaneously waiting for an answer. Thankfully, Sonja is a faster replier than Even and he gets back a Yeah, he is. Why? two minutes before the end of the lesson.

He throws on his jacket, picks up his bag and hurries out the door, seconds before the bell rings. The teacher looks at him in disbelief, but he only shrugs apologetically. While walking to the tram, he sends another text, this one to Even.

Even, I’m coming over if you don’t want me to then text back.

He doesn’t receive an answer, even though, the message indicates that it has been read. Isak takes the next tram.

Chapter Text

For a minute, Isak fears that Even won’t open the door, but then he does and Isak takes a second to just look at him. He is pale, the only colour two red blotches high up on his cheek. Other than that, there are dark shadows underneath his eyes and his hair is no longer perfectly styled and soft, but lying flat on his head. He’s wearing a huge hoodie and sweatpants; he seems to drown in his clothes. One hand is curled around the door, his knuckles white because of his too-tight grip.

The worst thing are his eyes, though. They look glassy, barely focusing on Isak properly, before turning towards the floor. Isak’s heart clenches painfully as he slowly approaches Even. He doesn’t say anything, just comes closer, stretching out his hand to thumb over Even’s cheek. He waits for Even to reject him, to pull away, but instead he leans into his hand the tiniest bit.

Isak pulls him close, still so careful with this Even, who looks like a strong breeze could knock him over, who holds onto the door as if to keep upright. Slowly, Even relaxes into his hold, while Isak noses at his cheeks, pressing feather-like kisses to the corner of his mouth and his cheekbones. He feels Even’s arms coming around to hug him back, letting go of the door and it falling shut behind them with a soft click.

“This is not the end of our story,” Isak whispers. Even breathes out sharply against his neck, tightening his hold on him. Isak grabs him back and they stand in the hallway, holding each other close, until Isak pulls back a little bit and says, “Do you want to lie down?”

Even nods slightly, but doesn’t make any indication to move, so Isak takes his hand (grasping the cold fingers with his own slightly warmer ones) and tugs him into Even’s room. The bed is a mess, the duvet somewhere in its corner, an old sweatshirt hanging from the ladder leading to the bed and the pillows pushed against the railing. Isak waits for Even to climb up the ladder with heavy steps, just to fall onto the mattress as soon as it is safe to do so. Isak follows him, pulling the blanket over Even and righting the pillows so that Even can lie on top of them comfortably.

Even follows his moves with empty eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers, when Isak finally lies down next to him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Isak soothes, running a hand through Even’s hair. Even closes his eyes. “Let’s talk about this later, for now let’s just sleep, okay?”

Even gives a small nod. Isak breathes out harshly, before closing his eyes as well. Something inside of him settles and, for the first time in a week, he manages to fall asleep without any problems.

Isak is startled awake by someone saying Even’s name. He pushes himself onto his elbows, careful not to disrupt Even’s sleep and finds himself looking at a woman standing in the doorway. Right, Even lives with his parents. This is not at all inconvenient and freaking Isak the fuck out. Not at all.

The woman – Even’s mother – quirks her eyebrows (maybe that’s where Even got the habit from then) and says, “I take it you’re Isak?”

Isak nods, before disentangling himself further from Even to sit up properly. Even just curls up around the duvet more. “Yeah,” he answers as quietly as possible. “Yeah, I’m Isak. I’m sorry that I just – erm, I can go?” He has no idea what the protocol is here. Does he apologise for lying in bed with Even although nothing happened? Should he make awkward small talk? Should he leave? Not that he wants to; it’s just that Isak is woefully unprepared for meeting Even’s parents.

Even’s mother thankfully saves him. “No, no stay. I just wanted to check up on Even.” She smiles kindly and Isak realises that he doesn’t even know her name. This has the potential to get very awkward very fast. “Do you want something to eat? Maybe you can get Even to eat something as well when he wakes up.”

“Sure, yes. Thank you.” Isak crawls to the ladder, making as if to get down, but Even’s mother interrupts his descent, saying, “It’s alright, you can stay in bed, I’ll bring you something.”

This is very kind, but Isak really doesn’t want Even’s mother to think that he’s lazy or anything. “No, it’s fine,” he smiles and hopes that he looks more at ease than he feels.

With one last look at Even’s sleeping form, he leaves the bed, following Even’s mother into the kitchen. “We’ve only got some toast, but at least that’s easy to eat in bed,” she shrugs.

Isak nods stupidly. He’ll never get to leave toast and Even behind it seems. Not that he’s complaining. “Can I help you in any way?” he asks because giving his hands something to do can only be better than watching Even’s mother prepare food and standing awkwardly next to her. She just hands him some cheese to put on the toast, for which he is more grateful than strictly necessary. They work in silence, but it doesn’t feel as weird as it could, which Isak counts as a definite win.

“It’s good that you’re here,” Even’s mother says at some point, smiling at him when he shoots her a confused look. “He’s been unwell the past week as I’m sure you know and he doesn’t let anyone close to him when he’s depressed.”

“Oh,” Isak breathes. “Should I go then?” Mentally, Isak is already preparing himself to leave as soon as possible if Even might not want him here.

Instead of outright answering him, Even’s mother says, “Well, he was here alone when you came, so he must have opened the door for you. Meaning he actually got up.” Isak nods confusedly. “He obviously wants you here. He wouldn’t do that if he was dead-set on ignoring you. So, no, you shouldn’t leave if you don’t want to.” Isak shakes his head quickly: he doesn’t want to. Even’s mother smiles at him, before grabbing something from the fridge.

For a while it’s quiet, Isak taking in what he just heard. When he speaks again, the toasts are nearly finished. “I don’t really know what I’m doing, though,” he admits.

“Just be there for him. You can’t really do anything else.”

The toasts are sitting on Even’s bedside drawer, or at least Even’s is sitting there, Isak might have wolfed his down before getting back into bed, and Isak is staring at his phone, where he has just completed a new level of Candy Crush, when Even stirs.

Isak puts his phone away, instead looking at Even, who is blinking slowly. The crease of the pillow is printed onto his left cheek and he moves until he is lying half on his back, his eyes resolutely fixed on the ceiling. Sometimes they still stray towards Isak.

“Hi,” Isak says.

“Hi,” Even answers, his voice hoarse as if he hasn’t spoken in days. Maybe he hasn’t. Isak isn’t quite sure of a lot of things right now.

“Do you want something to eat?” Isak wants to add that there’s toast, but it seems as if Even is still processing this question, so he waits. Finally, Even shakes his head. “Okay,” Isak agrees easily. “Maybe later.”

“You can go if you want. You don’t have to –,“ Even’s eyes wander around the room, “stay and watch me be sad.”

Isak tries to read between the lines. It doesn’t sound like Even wants him to go, which is good because Isak has no intention of doing so, unless Even would prefer that. “I’m fine,” he says. “I had toast and met your mom, I think I’m good.” At this Even looks at him with something akin to interest. Normally, Isak would make a joke here, but he doesn’t think Even would appreciate it right now, so he just settles on, “She’s very nice.”

“Okay,” Even mumbles.

It gets quiet again, the only sound is Even’s slow breaths, while Isak draws nonsensical patterns on his hand. At some point, Even turns his hand palm up to grasp Isak’s and Isak tries to stop himself from crying over such a tiny gesture.

He looks at the bedside drawer, where he set down the plate, to find that he actually put it on a well-read copy of ‘Crush’. Isak manoeuvres himself so that he can hold Even’s hand and the book in the other. Even looks up when Isak opens the book, but he doesn’t say anything. “Can I?” Isak still asks. Even nods once, before closing his eyes again.

The book is marked in a multitude of colours, there are pencilled in notes in the margins and sometimes Even has drawn circles around one word or another. Isak smiles at this, before he gets an idea. “Even,” he says, getting Even to look at him through heavy lids, “do you want me to read to you?”

It seems like Even will say no, his brow furrowed and his mouth in a hard line, but then he shrugs once. “Alright,” he says and Isak starts. He skips the first part, remembers that it hurts even more than the other two, and starts reading those poems aloud that at least contain some semblance of happiness.

When he gets to the last poem, his voice is shot and he has to cough in-between poems to continue reading, but he reads on. Here, nearly every line is in a different colour. He reads slowly, letting the words wash over them, until he reaches the final part: “’I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want. You said Tell me about your books, your visions made of flesh and light.’”

He stops to find Even looking up at him. “Maybe tell me about your books when you’re better,” he amends, running his free hand (the one Even let go of sometime ago to bury it in the blanket) through his hair. Then, he continues reading aloud, “’And I said This is the Moon. This is the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube... We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart?’”

He stops once more. Even shrugs as if in response to the question. Isak reads, “’And you said Kiss me.’”

“That works,” Even murmurs, the first words in what seems like forever. Isak obeys his wish in a heartbeat leaning down towards him and capturing his lips in a soft kiss, more a brushing of mouths against each other than anything else, but he can’t help but feel that this is something monumental.

“Last lines,” he whispers, when he sits up again and starts reading, “’Here I am leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack, my silent night, just mash your lips against me.’”

Isak doesn’t have to look at the book to read the last two sentences. He knows them because he remembers reading them and thinking: Even missed those. He sent Isak quotes upon quotes about love and monsters and battling demons, but he forgot the most important quote, the one that, when Isak first read it, made him breathe out long and blink away tears for some reason. So, he looks at Even, locks onto his empty gaze and recites, “’We are all going forward. None of us are going back.’”

Isak puts the book back on the drawer and lies down next to Even. “We’re also going forward. This is not the end, okay?”

And finally, there’s a shadow of a smile on Even’s lips, when he nods and says, “Okay.”

It’s four days later and Isak has come from school straight to Even’s, who is sitting in bed and doing something or other on his phone. Isak couldn’t care less, he’s just happy that Even is awake and shooting him a smile. This is better than any of the days before, this is huge actually. The last few days passed in a haze, where Even was sometimes able to get up – and on one occasion go out and get food with Isak – just to be bed-bound the next morning and not able to focus on anything. His sitting up and smiling is a sight Isak doesn’t want to forget.

“Hi,” Isak greets, putting his bag away and climbing up the ladder. Even intercepts his ascent by crawling towards him and kissing him, before saying, “I’m Juliet in this version then.”

Isak frowns at him, climbing into bed next to him. “What? Wait. Because of the balcony scene or what?”

“Aren’t you glad you got that, Isak? Aren’t you glad that you watched the film and now understand pop culture references?” Even’s eyes are still slightly dimmed, not as sparkling as usual, but he’s joking and smiling. Isak has to stop himself from hugging him simply because he’s so proud of him. That would be weird, though, so he just thinks it to himself.

“That’s not pop culture. Shakespeare has been dead for ages.”

“But the film, Isak, the film. That’s pop culture and seeing as you still refuse to read the actual book, you –“

“Hey, I read the other book you gave me.”

This time it’s Even, who says, “What?”

“’It’s Kind of a Funny Story’. I read it. I mean, yeah, only last week, but I did read it.”

“Why?” Even looks beyond puzzled now. “I said I hated it repeatedly.”

“Yeah, well I wanted to understand why.”

“And? Did you like it?”

“Not really.” Isak shrugs, debating whether to ask what he has wanted to ask since reading it. Finally, he forces the words past his tongue, “You said that it’s not like in the story. What isn’t?”

Even puts his head against the wall, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them, he looks tired. “The protagonist, he spends five days in a mental hospital and then he’s healed – or, well, not healed, I guess, but so fucking happy and conscious of life and everything around him.” Even sounds partly pissed off, but mostly disappointed. “And that just, that will never happen for me, you know? Like I can learn to deal with my illness and I’ll get it under control probably - once I finally find the right meds - but it’s also something that won’t just go away. And I’m not at the stage where I’m fine with it, I fucking hate it,” he breathes in raggedly, and Isak takes his hand, squeezing it slightly. Even squeezes back. “I just really, really hope that there’ll be a stage where I don’t feel like my brain is my enemy. At least, not all the time. It’d be nice to get more of a reprieve. But that’s still in the future, so for now I guess it just pisses me off if I have to read about some guy spending five days in hospital and feeling magically better.”

“That makes sense.”

Even snorts. “Really? It doesn’t just make me sound like someone who’s jealous?”

“Well, but isn’t it normal to be a bit jealous if somebody has it easier than yourself? I mean I get jealous over stupid stuff, you’re jealous over something huge, that’s not stupid. It just sucks.”

Even sighs. “Yeah, it does.”

Isak silently marvels at how well his and Even’s hands fit together, before he says, “You don’t have to answer but –,” he hesitates, until Even raises an eyebrow, “why didn’t you tell me?”

Even suddenly cups Isak’s face in his hands and kisses him softly. Isak is so surprised he keeps his eyes open for a second, only kissing back when he has closed them. When Even pulls away, he keeps his hands on Isak’s cheeks and says, “I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s not what I meant, I’m not mad, I just wanted to know.” Isak puts his own hands over Even’s, wrapping his fingers around Even’s wrists to make sure that Even knows that Isak means what he’s saying; that he is here to stay.

“I know,” Even smiles. “I just wanted to say it.”

“Oh, alright.” Isak looks at him, dumbfounded.

Even smiles, but this time it’s tinged with sadness. He sits up, leaning against the wall and staring straight ahead. He intertwines his fingers with Isak’s when he starts talking, “I really am sorry that I didn’t tell you, it’s just that I wanted to have some kind of control over it. Even if it was just when to tell you. But it’s all fine thinking that I wanted to tell you, actually doing it was a whole other thing that I just – I kept putting it off and the more I kept putting it off the more scared I got of how you’d react. Not because you’re a horrible person –“

“Thanks,” Isak says drily because this is a serious conversation and his heart is thumping wildly in his chest, but he also neither wants nor thinks it would do either of them any favours to tiptoe around Even like he’s suddenly a completely different person.

“You’re the least horrible person, babe,” Even smiles a little. “No, it was just because it’s hard. It’s like…I’m alright with talking about it once I get over myself and actually mention it, but until then? It’s like there’s a physical barrier that stops me from saying anything, you know?”

Even throws him a glance and Isak swallows heavily. “Yeah, I know.” Even frowns, clearly wanting to ask more, but Isak shakes his head. “It’s alright, not now. I just, I know what you mean, okay? You don’t have to apologise for not being ready to say something. You choose when.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Even playing absentmindedly with Isak’s fingers; turning his hand over and tracing his veins. Isak’s skin is tingling and he feels warm. He can’t help but smile. Then, he remembers something that makes his blood run cold. “Oh my god, I kind of told my friends when you weren’t answering my texts and fuck - so much for you choose when. Fuck, Even, I’m so –“

Even has the audacity to laugh and Isak would hit him if it didn’t also make breathing easier again. “It’s alright, Isak. I wasn’t a lot of help and I mean, I did want you to figure it out. Don’t worry. I trust you.” He brushes a tiny kiss against Isak’s forehead and Isak sighs, the smile creeping back onto his lips.

“I mean, I did leave you clues,” Even says. “Like I gave you ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’ because I thought – subconsciously or whatever – that you’d maybe figure it out.” Isak looks at him incredulously. How was he supposed to get that weeks before anything happened with Even? Even chuckles a bit, before smoothing a hand through Isak’s hair. “It’s alright, it turned out that you’re a shit detective and I’m shit at leaving clues.”

“Speak for yourself,” Isak grins, pressing a kiss to the corner of Even’s mouth because there is no reason not to do so. Even turns his head, kissing Isak properly and pulling him towards the mattress, where they continue to make out lazily.

When they have to break for air eventually, Even whispers, “You’re really not horrible.”

“Thanks, you’re okay, too.” Isak bites his lip to keep from grinning like a complete idiot, but then he sees Even beaming at him with nearly his usual force, and he lets the grin take over.

On Even’s elevated bed, he stops falling and his feet find the ground again; Even’s feet right next to him.

Isak is hosting a book club Christmas party at the flat and he’d really like to say that he doesn’t know how that happened, except he does. He clearly remembers saying “Yes, I can host it” to Vilde when she had asked and the slightly shocked but happy look on Vilde’s face. In his defence, the day Vilde had asked, Isak had been in a disgustingly good mood because Even had migrated to Isak’s flat. He wasn’t able to go to school yet, but he did declare that he missed Isak’s bed and that was that. So, sue him, Isak said yes because he was happy and Vilde asked and, in the last few weeks, saying yes had had great results.

Now, however, he regrets his choice a bit because he’s trapped in the kitchen with Vilde, while his friends (this time they came without blackmailing anyone; Isak thinks the promise of alcohol makes everything easier) are probably making horrible Christmas decorations with the girls and he last saw Even standing in the corner talking to Linn. Isak is momentarily distracted by whatever Vilde is saying when he thinks about the mistletoe Eskild had hung up right next to Even and Linn, and how Even had eyed it before smirking at Isak. Isak coughs a little, trying to focus on Vilde again. He should stop being an asshole and actually listen to her.

Vilde apparently seems to think the same thing because she hits him in the shoulder. “Hey! What was that for?” Isak yelps. Admitting to doing anything wrong is the first mistake, Isak is sure of that.

“You’re not listening. I said you should thank me.”

“Thank you? Why?” Isak is immediately suspicious.

Vilde sighs loudly. “Because without my book club – which only one person has left, so it’s running perfectly, thank you for asking – you would have never met Even.”

The thing is, Isak is not completely comfortable talking about things like this yet. Or maybe ever. It has something to do with the fact that he tends to get sappy when Even is involved and he absolutely will not be sappy in front of Vilde or anyone that isn’t Even. He’d rather not be sappy around Even either, but he’s fighting a losing battle there and knows it. “Maybe we’d have met somewhere else,” he protests.

Vilde looks unconvinced. “Where? You never left Jonas’ and the others’ side.”

Isak throws his hands in the air. “The bathroom? Whatever. Why do you even want the credit for that?”

At that, Vilde lights up. “Having people make meaningful relationships through my book club means that it is not only a success in terms of exposing people to new books and how to properly discuss them, but also in terms of making new connections.” Isak must stare blankly at her because she sighs again. “Meeting new people, Isak. Really, you would have been completely useless without the club.”

Isak puts his head back, stares at the kitchen ceiling for a moment, before looking back down at Vilde. “Alright, thank you, Vilde.”

She smiles at him. He thinks that he hasn’t ever seen her this relaxed. He catches himself smiling back. “Merry Christmas, Isak.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Then, Sana turns up looking for Vilde. Before they leave the kitchen, Isak says, “Vilde, who was the person who quit book club?”

Vilde turns around, one arm on Sana’s elbow. She scrunches up her nose. “I don’t know, some girl with short hair. She switched to another club I think.”

Isak is sure that Vilde knows Emma’s name. There is no way that Vilde is not aware of everyone in her club. She probably also knows what their general schedule is, considering she somehow always knows exactly when to show up at Isak’s locker. “Right,” Isak nods and then adds, “Sorry”, because he feels like this could be made out to be his fault. His memories of the club all include Even, the other members just filtering in occasionally. He never even realised that Emma was no longer in the club.

Before Vilde can say anything, Sana cuts in, “Don’t be stupid. It’s fine the way it is now.”

“Yes, we’ve nearly got Mahdi to join as well,” Vilde grins and with that they’re out of the kitchen. Isak grins to himself.

“This is a stupid game,” Isak whines into Even’s ear.

“You’re just losing,” Even grins.

Isak grunts because he can’t contest that. Said game was proposed by Vilde half an hour ago, everyone already a bit tipsy (Isak isn’t really, because Even is also still sipping from his first beer) and now they’re in the living room. Half of them are on the floor, the others on couches and they’re playing a trivia game about books. Isak debates whether he should just give up, put his head on Even’s shoulder and nap through the rest of the game. Even seems to notice that because he snakes his arm around Isak’s waist, letting his fingers rest on Isak’s hipbone. Isak slouches down a bit more on the couch, so that he’s comfortable against Even’s side without downright cuddling him.

“Alright, next question,” Sana says, who is the self-proclaimed quizmaster and holding a stack of cards in her hands. This started out as a cheap excuse for drinking whenever someone got a question wrong, which was frequently for everyone except Even, and Vilde, who knows literally everything about contemporary young adult literature it turns out. By now, though, they are all either happily drunk or just happy, so they are trying to guess the answers as a group. Isak is still losing. He doesn’t think he contributed anything to the answers in the last ten minutes. Whatever, the questions are stupidly hard and obscure. Sana is definitely the one who came up with them.

“Who is the author of the book ‘In Search of the Multiverse: Parallel Worlds, Hidden Dimensions, and the Ultimate Quest for the Frontiers of Reality’?” Sana startles him out of his trance.

“That title is way too long,” Magnus moans from somewhere left to Isak, but Isak just says, “John Gribbin.”

Nearly the whole group turns towards him. Isak fights wanting to shrink against Even’s side. “What?” he says annoyed. “I’m right.”

There is a tiny smile on Sana’s lips when she says, “You are.”

“I said I read,” Isak mutters, when everyone continues staring at him.

“Yes, but books about physics?” Magnus sounds like he can’t decide whether he’s in awe or disgusted. Isak simply shrugs.

“My boyfriend is so smart,” Even sighs and for that Isak elbows him into his ribs. “Hey, I was paying you a compliment!” The others start making “aww”-sounds or, in one case, “God, you’re so cute it’s making me feel things”. Isak is pretty sure that one is Eskild.

“Don’t give them any ammunition,” Isak sighs, sitting up bit, but Even just tugs him down again, laughing.

The game picks up once more and Isak suffers through questions about when ‘The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’ was published, where the line ‘rage, rage against the dying of the light’ is from and which author used the pseudonym Currer Bell. He is only half-aware of the fact that Even seems to know the answers to most of these. (Except when it’s about numbers, Isak finds. Even consequently puts books in the wrong decade of a century, which amuses Isak endlessly for no discernible reason.)

There is a tipping point, however, when Sana asks, “What text are the following lines from and what genre is it? ‘A young healthy child well nursed is at a year old a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or –‘”

“What. The. Fuck.” Isak looks at her with wide eyes.

“The hell is that?” Jonas laughs.

“Is that an actual quote? Or did you just make that up?” Chris is the next one to butt in.

“You’re having us on,” Eva agrees. Eskild is just looking grossed out in the corner and Noora has physically retreated into the couch. Isak is with them on all accounts.

“That’s a real quote,” Even says next to Isak. Isak turns around to look at him. “Isn’t that, wait what’s his name – Jonathan Swift’s ‘A Modest Proposal’?” Isak will fucking punch Even if that’s true. He can’t be that much of a nerd that he actually knows an obscure, extremely gross text and recognises a quote that – “Yes, it is. What text type is it?” Sana says.

“You know this one?” Isak can’t believe him honestly.

“Do you regularly forget that I am a book nerd? I definitely remember you calling me that.” Even’s eyebrows are doing a stupid motion on his forehead and Isak just wants to kiss him, but there’s way too many people around him to feel comfortable enough to do this.

“Shut up. You’re not cute.” He wriggles out of Even’s hold, who lets him go easily, and declares, “I need something to drink.” Going away, he hears someone say, “They’re disgustingly cute” and he can’t help smiling. Thankfully, his back is turned to the others so they can’t see it. That’s the last thing Isak needs.

Isak is standing in the kitchen again, a glass of water in his hand, when Even comes in. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Isak says back and lets himself be pulled into a soft kiss. The kiss is broken when Even mumbles against his lips, “You didn’t hear my full answer.”

Isak closes his eyes and sighs. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You are just in awe of my talents. Also, the excerpt that Sana read aloud was from a satire. Swift didn’t actually want people to start eating their children.”

“Wow, I am so relieved.” He is. A little bit. Isak doesn’t know what kind of ideas people had hundreds of years ago.

“Aren’t you extremely happy that you found yourself a boyfriend that is as smart as the one I found myself?”

“Maybe,” Isak allows. He puts his glass away and closes the last distance between them just to look at Even. He’s smiling down at Isak and Isak would never, ever admit this to anyone out loud, least of all to Even, but he likes that Even has a few centimetres on him. It allows him to look at Even without Even immediately catching him. That’s not the case right now, of course, as Even returns his look without saying anything.

Their friends are outside and their laughter and noise spill over into the kitchen, but it doesn’t matter: Isak basks in the comfortable silence with Even. It’s not that they have nothing to say; it’s more that Isak is sure now that they have time. They have time to discuss Even’s bipolar disorder more, time to draw boundaries and make sure that they know what to do the next time, time to reveal parts of themselves to each other that haven’t been said out loud for a long time (Isak thinks of his mother and how he wants to tell Even about her soon, but that it can wait for now), time to laugh and kiss and hold each other and share.

“I think I get the ending of ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’ now,” Isak whispers into the quiet. Even quirks an eyebrow. “No, not in the sense that everything will get magically better, but in the end the protagonist figures out that he wants to do things with his life now. That he wants to be more aware of his life.” Even nods once. “I get that,” Isak smiles, “I want that. Actually, no, I already have it.”

Even’s smile is blinding when he says, “You do?”

“Yeah.” Isak tangles his fingers together with Even’s. His heart is beating steadily in his chest, no longer running away from him and leaving him to play catch up, to drag in one heaving breath after the other. When he looks at Even, it speeds up a little. It’s not nerves or fear, but warmth that spreads from somewhere deep within him, reaching even his fingertips.

Even presses his forehead against Isak’s. “I don’t have a quote right now, I’m sure that must be disappointing to you,” he breathes. He doesn’t explain why he would need a quote, but Isak thinks he understands well enough anyway.

“You don’t?” Isak teases, putting one hand on Even’s jaw to keep him as close as possible.

“No. I don’t think I need one, do I?” Isak drags his eyes up from Even’s lips to meet his gaze. It’s soft and warm and Isak feels home. Isak doesn’t need words to understand Even right now, and maybe that won’t be the case forever, but right now, he gets him. It’s enough the way it is. Still, he says, “No. You don’t. I have one, though.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, it’s very, very short.”

“Do tell.”

And Isak remembers the last lines of ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’, how they were just one word repeated again and again. How Isak finally feels like he can do these words justice, that he is for once in his life no longer hiding everything, that he is here now and holding hands with a stupidly tall boy, who quotes pretentious poetry at him, has a weird obsession with only communicating via eyebrow raises and kisses Isak with wonder and delight in his eyes.

“I know you don’t like the book, you don’t have to, it’s a boring read,” Isak begins and Even snorts a little but doesn’t interrupt him. “But in the end, the protagonist, whatever his name was, something very American –“

“Craig.”

“Alright, Craig - could have been Brian or Kevin or something as well.”

This time Even actually laughs out loud, pressing a kiss to the corner of Isak’s mouth. “Isak?” he whispers.

“Yes?”

“Get to the fucking point.”

Isak tries to adopt a disgruntled expression but can’t keep it up when Even kisses him once more. “Alright, fine,” he mumbles, still quiet as to not disturb the silence wrapping around them like a cloak. “So, in the end, Craig repeats something a few times because he figures out that this is what he wants to do from now on. And it’s what we are doing and what we’ll keep doing in spite of everything.”

“Which is?” Even asks.

“Live.”