Chapter Text
day one.
Isak hates double dates.
He hates dates, period, hasn’t gone on one for more than a year, but there’s something especially excruciating about double dates. Whoever came up with the idea of forcing people to hit it off romantically in front an audience obviously had a real fucking rosy view of love. Love isn’t as easy as a nice dinner and a good conversation. It’s never been that way for people like Isak, who’ve had to claw their way to loving themselves, and even that’s debatable. Isak tolerates himself on the best of days, drowns himself in alcohol on the worst.
Double dates may be excruciating as a concept, but this one – well, this one takes the cake.
“So, what are you into?” Even asks, as he messes with his brussels sprouts. Isak had winced when Even placed his order. He’s spent the last four years struggling to eat more than one meal a day – he’s not wasting a fancy dinner order on fucking vegetables, especially when Eva’s paying.
Why she’d bothered coercing him into this with free food is a mystery. She’s been gazing into Noora’s eyes soppily for the last fifteen minutes anyway. They could do that over fucking McDonald’s, but had instead chosen a meal that would wipe out Isak’s food budget for the week. Sometimes, he wonders what it would be like – not having to worry about money, to eat something other than dry peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, to actually have enough in his bank account to treat a date, if he ever wanted one. But that’s always been impossible. It’s better not to think about it.
Isak shrugs. “Music, video games.” Isak takes a massive bite of his steak. He’s totally aware there’s sauce at the corner of his mouth, but this isn’t a real date anyway. He’s got no one to impress.
He feels like a little bad for blowing the guy off, but he doesn’t need this right now. He’s only here to relieve some of the tension between Noora and Eva, and Eva had promised Even had gotten the memo. Isak isn’t looking for anything. He’s just getting his life together, after Alex, after everything went to shit. He’s already let a boy derail his life once. He won’t let himself make that mistake again.
But Even refuses to be deterred. He just keeps looking at Isak with the same smile he’s been sporting all night, the kind of expectant half-smile that makes Isak feel like his skin doesn’t fit right. “What a coincidence – I’m also into music and video games, just like half of Norway. Any favorites?”
Isak looks over at Eva, but there’s no rescue awaiting him. She’s feeding Noora bites of her filet. It’s disgusting, it’s gross, and it makes Isak’s heart twinge with suppressed longing. He sighs loudly, but manages to say, “I don’t know, man. 90’s hip-hop, I guess?”
Even lights up. “Ever listen to NAS?”
No . “Of course.”
“What’s your favorite album?”
“Uh – um.”
Even’s eyes spark with glee. “You haven’t listened to him, have you?”
“I totally have.”
“It’s okay, we can listen to him together sometime.”
He looks so hopeful that Isak’s halfway tempted to take him up on the offer, but he knows Even’s type – he’s nice, pretty, just the kind of guy Isak could fall for. That’s why he has to nip this in the bud before Even starts getting ideas.
Isak’s voice drops to a whisper, but he doubts Eva and Noora are paying them any attention anyway. “Look, dude, you know you don’t have to do this, right?”
Even blinks innocently. “Do what?”
“We’re not on a real date.”
If Isak had been waiting for a reaction, he’d be disappointed. Even just keeps smiling. “Oh, I know.”
“So why are you acting like it is?” he snaps. Everything about Even bothers him, from his slicked-back hair to fact that he’s everything Isak can’t be, everything he’s told himself he’s not allowed to have.
“I didn’t know that dates were the only time I’m allowed to introduce people to seminal works of art.”
“You know what I mean, the whole cute small talk shit – “
“You want to cut the small talk? Maybe we could talk about our deepest hopes and aspirations instead. When I was little, I kind of wanted to be an astronaut, but then I figured out that physics and I just weren’t meant to be.”
Isak can’t help but gape at him a little, because honestly, who is this guy? He would’ve gladly spent the rest of the evening staring at Even in silence if Eva hadn’t somehow pulled her eyes away from Noora long enough to say, “Isak, be nice to Even. You two could be really great friends.”
From the way she’s looking between them, she’s expecting more than friendship . It slowly dawns on him that Eva may have ulterior motives for setting this up – there’s no way she actually needs a chaperone with a girl she’s been casually flirting with for a month. Ever since they’d met, Eva’s harped on him about finding a nice boy to settle down with. She doesn’t like him being alone.
It’s his own fault. He’d only ever gone into detail about his past with Jonas. Eva knows a little about his family, but no more detail than that. Eva would never look at him the same if she knew the extent of it.
He stands up suddenly, bubbling with irritation. The chair scrapes against the floor, drawing attention from the table next to them. He knows he’s making a scene, but he can’t stand the pretense anymore. Even’s probably looking for someone nice, someone normal, and he’s sorry he can’t be that guy. It’s useless to pretend otherwise, and it’s useless for Eva to make him try when she knows where he stands. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s avoided Eva’s attempts to set him up for this very reason. To have everything he wanted at sixteen dangled in front of him — to be wined and dined by someone nice, someone genuinely interested — only to know he can’t do it all over again? That’s some self-punishment shit.
“Eva, you can get the check, right? I have a lab report to finish before tomorrow,” Isak grits out.
Her face falls. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”
“I just remembered.”
She obviously doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t need her to. He doesn’t look at Even when he snatches his wallet and leaves the restaurant. Even doesn’t call after him. Isak didn’t expect him to, he didn’t, but for some guy who apparently wanted to know Isak better, he’s surprisingly okay with letting Isak go.
Isak ends up hitting on some stranger at the bar near his apartment. He’s just bulky enough to hold Isak down, but not bulky enough that he can’t get away if he wanted to. He’s got nice blue eyes that Isak can’t look away from. His name is Jan or Mick or something monosyllabic that’s easy to forget. He tells Isak he’s pretty as they’re grinding on the dance floor, and Isak’s answering grin comes almost automatically. The grin works, and the next time the guy kisses him, he makes sure to press every inch of his body against Isak’s.
They fuck hard enough that Isak’s worried for the guy’s next door neighbors. It’s the kind of fuck he needs, reminds him that he’s chosen this. Caring about people only gets him in trouble. Jonas and Eva had wormed their way in, but that’s all he’ll allow. Maybe in a couple of years, he thinks wistfully. Maybe one day he could allow himself to be happy.
Then Jan, Mick, whatever, wraps his mouth around Isak’s dick, and he forgets to think at all.
day fifteen.
It’s just Isak’s shitty luck that he finds Even sitting in the front row of his Intro to Modern Cinema class on the first day of the spring semester. He’s been dreading this class all day, but it was this or dance, and Isak’s body just doesn’t move like that. His mind wasn’t made for the arts – his mom had always said he loved answers too much to be satisfied with any sort of ambiguity. After he’d watched Titanic for the first time, he’d spent an hour doing the math to figure out if Jack could fit on the door. Eva had only rolled her eyes, complaining that the whole point of the movie, the whole point of romance, was lost on him.
But if he was dreading it before, that’s nothing compared to the way he’s feeling as he reluctantly makes his way to the front. The seat next to Even is the only free one in the room – perks of arriving five minutes late. He can feel all eyes on him, but Even’s stand out. His stare bores through Isak, and he swears Even can see right through him. Isak drops into his seat with a sigh and glares at him. “What?” he snaps.
“Am I not allowed to look at you?”
Isak sputters. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Even says, but the smile from their disastrous date is back. It’s soft but knowing, and Isak wonders why the hell it’s so persistent when Isak has been nothing but rude to the guy. Usually, Isak’s whole thing is enough to ward anyone off. It’d be enough to ward Isak off if he were in their shoes. He’s just not worth the trouble.
“You do too,” Isak says, because he’s not above sounding like a five-year-old.
“I’m just looking,” Even says, leaning back in his seat. But as the professor begins going over the syllabus again, Even winks at him.
Isak fumes.
After the lecture, he sprints out the door, ignoring the people he knocks over in his path. The first day and he’s already on a couple of hit lists, which strikes some potential partners for the end of semester group project. Isak can’t bring himself to care. All he can think about is getting away from Even, getting away from that smile, those eyes. Who the hell does he think he is? They’ve spoken for less than five minutes, and Even has the audacity to look at him like, like –
“Hi,” Even says. Somehow, he had beaten Isak to the entrance of the building. This entire crowd of people, and they couldn’t even do him the simple favor of slowing Even down. He lounges against the door like he’s fucking James Dean, and Isak can’t stand it. He can’t stand how effortlessly Even seems to command a room, commands Isak’s attention when Isak couldn’t care less about him.
“Can we talk?” Even asks, shifting on his feet awkwardly. It’s the first sign of uncertainty Isak’s seen from him, and it makes him seem more human. Isak doesn’t like it.
“What do we have to talk about?”
“That dinner – “ Even clears his throat. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“If you didn’t realize, that’s how dates tend to go. Some are good, some are bad. Most are bad. That’s why I don’t go on them.”
Even’s face scrunches up. “Is that really what you think?”
“Statistically, it’s true. Or we’d fall in love with everyone we dated, and that would be a fucking disaster.”
“Sure, you don’t tend to meet the love of your life on dates, but that doesn’t mean they’re useless.”
Isak snorts. “I bet you’re one of those people who believe in love at first sight.”
Even shakes his head, but his smile doesn’t fall. “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”
“You think being naïve about love is a good thing?”
“It can be. Sometimes, that’s the only way you find it.”
Even blinks at him so innocently that Isak has to take a deep breath to keep his irritation under check. Idiots like Even only get their heart broken, as Isak knows all too well. “Look, everything is chill, and trust me, it wasn’t personal. I’m just not into Eva meddling in my business. Let’s just forget about it, okay?”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
Isak throws his hands in the air. “Why the hell not?”
“Because – “ Even stops himself. “Look, I just don’t know why you’re so opposed to me.”
Even bites his lip, and he looks so small, so vulnerable that something in Isak deflates. He’s not mean . There’s just something about Even that makes him more worried than usual.
“I’m not opposed to you,” Isak admits. “I’m just not looking for a boyfriend.”
At that, Even grins. “Good, I’m not either.”
“What are you after then? A fuck?”
Isak had guessed right. The bluntness makes Even wince, but he can’t even see it as a victory. “Jesus Christ, no. Are you always like this?”
“Always like what?” Isak says innocently. It’s working – some of the light in Even’s eyes has dimmed, and he’s looking less interested by the minute.
This is good, he tells himself. This is what he wants.
“I just wanted to hang out with you because you seem halfway cool, and you’re already interrogating me about my intentions?” Even says.
Isak snorts. “You really, really don’t know me. What did Eva tell you? That I needed Prince Charming to swoop in and teach me how to love? Because been there, done that, and let me tell you, it’s not really worth it.”
Even just stares at him, and there’s that look again. It’s not exactly the same one from before, but it’s just as annoying. It’s the kind of look that says I think I know you better than you know yourself. It’s the kind of look Alex always gave him, but back then, he was stupid enough to believe it.
Finally, Even says, “Have you ever let yourself just be with people without wondering when they’re going to hurt you?”
It’s like a punch to the gut. “Maybe there’s a good reason for that,” Isak grits out.
“It’s not good enough to shut people out forever,” Even says, and he sounds so goddamn righteous, so infuriatingly naïve that it makes something in Isak snap.
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you have no idea what I’ve been through.”
“You don’t know what I’ve been through either,” Even says, voice wavering ever so slightly. He doesn’t go further, but Isak wilts a little at that. He’s had a bad day – he’s had a bad year, even though it’s only January, and Even seems like a genuinely nice guy. Isak has a mound of homework and shitty Ramen waiting for him at home, and he’d really rather not end his day on campus in a fight with someone he may have to spend time with by proxy.
He exhales, forcing his annoyance out with it. “We’re obviously never going to be best friends, so let’s just stay out of each other’s business, okay? I’m not here to feed your hero complex.”
Even hesitates, but just when Isak thinks that he’s going to fuck it up and try to psychoanalyze him again, Even nods.
Isak lets out a breath of relief. “Good. I’ll see you around?” he says, because he’s still got manners tucked inside him, somewhere.
Even nods jerkily again, and as Isak walks to the tram, he thinks it’s a damn shame. In a parallel universe, he would’ve gone home with Even after that date. It would’ve been great. Even’s mouth is something straight out of porn, and Isak had conjured up half a thousand fantasies about it before he’d even sat down.
He snorts. In a parallel universe, maybe, when Even wasn’t a fucking Disney prince who still believed in the power of human connection or whatever. Isak doesn’t know how anyone can still be this fucking optimistic about people. People kind of suck as a general rule, and Isak’s found enough exceptions to not be a total hermit, thanks. If only Even had been a little more jaded, a little less trusting.
But if that were the case, Isak’s well aware he would’ve forgotten all about him by now, and that’s just another reason to stay far, far away.
day twenty.
Isak’s too drunk.
He’s no novice to the clubbing scene, but he prefers to stay at the edge of tipsy if he can. Alcohol is too much of a risk, and Isak’s had enough risk for a lifetime. He likes his risks catalogued and assessed carefully now, walks into decisions with mental pro and con charts. Somehow, he can’t seem to conjure any of them up as he takes another tequila shot. He doesn’t even bother with the lime after. That’s too easy, and he has a habit of making things too hard for himself when he’s in this state.
Alex is across the dance floor, hands on the hips of some boy who looks barely seventeen. Older than Isak was, he can’t help but think. At least there’s that.
Alex slips his fingers through the guy’s belt loops, trails his other hand around the guy’s waist, and Isak’s stomach curdles. That was his signature move. Isak had thought it was irresistibly sexy at sixteen. That’s what had convinced Isak to go home with him when Alex found him crying in a bar after he’d ran away from his mom. This episode had been worse than any other, and there’d been a month of tiptoeing around her before she finally snapped. As Isak had rushed out the door with a hastily-packed bag, she had yelled at him, screamed that he was the devil, before throwing a plate at his head.
He’d ducked just in time, but the damage was deeper than any physical wound.
Alex gave him hope again. At first, Isak couldn’t believe his luck. A twenty-three year old man who could have anyone, who looked like a walking wet dream, and he’d chosen Isak? It was a stuff of fantasy for a kid so closeted he couldn’t even look around the locker room during gym period.
Then the fighting started, and the cheating, and the blame. Isak just wasn’t a good enough boyfriend. He was lazy and stupid, and shit, couldn’t he suck dick any better? Alex should’ve trained him well enough. It was only fair that he fucked other people, paraded them in front of Isak like he was proud of it. You’ll watch me, and you can’t do a goddamn thing about it.
For two years, Isak had felt grateful that Alex came home to him at the end of the day. He’d tried his best — cooked all of Alex’s meals for him, or at least Isak’s own approximation of cooking. Cleaned up around the apartment Alex had convinced him to move into when he’d found out about his home situation. Dropped out of school, because Isak wasn’t smart enough to get anywhere anyway, and besides, Alex had enough money for them, if Isak was very, very good. For two years, that bastard made him think Alex was the best he could do.
The first time Alex hit him, Isak begged him to stay. They’d been fighting over something stupid — some dick friend of Alex’s who couldn’t seem to get through his head that Isak was a real human being — when Isak had the audacity to assert himself. Alex had left anyway, brought back some blonde boy who had tried to suck Alex’s dick as soon as they made it through the front door, fuck the boyfriend who had dutifully waited up for him all night.
The second time it happened, Isak packed his meager belongings and left.
Jonas had pulled him out of that mess, stitched him back together so efficiently that Isak wished, with a desperate sort of longing, that he’d been there when Isak was younger. Jonas treated him like a long-lost brother anyway, like they were childhood friends instead of two strangers who happened to meet at a skate park. Isak’s left that part of his life behind since then, but he’d foolishly forgotten that Alex always brought out the worst in him.
He motions to the bartender to get him another shot. The guy looks worried, but he passes one over. Eva’s picking up the tab anyway, since her mom had given her free reign to celebrate her and Noora’s one-month anniversary. It’s her way of making up for her absence. Isak could almost laugh at the absurdity of it. He’s not sure whether any party, no matter how big or expensive, could make up for his parents abandoning him.
Isak’s about to down the shot when a hand wraps around his fingers, stopping him. There’s another hand at the small of his back, and when he realizes he’s being cradled, he whimpers involuntarily.
Fuck, he recognizes that hand.
“What are you doing here?” he hisses at Even, but it comes out as more of a vaguely indignant slur. “I made sure you weren’t coming.”
Even’s lips twitch. “You made sure?”
Isak would do anything to wipe that amused smirk off Even’s face, but that would require some sort of planning, which he’s definitely not equipped for. “Uh huh,” he nods. His head butts against Even’s chin, but he barely even flinches. “I asked Eva.”
“And why did you need to make sure I wasn’t coming?”
Isak purses his lips. “I didn’t want to be drunk around you.”
“Because?”
Isak pouts. “Because I would say something stupid, you dummy. Duh.”
“I don’t think you can insult my worldview any more than you already have.”
Even doesn’t get it, but it’s okay. He’s pretty enough that Isak will explain it to him. “I wouldn’t insult you again. I may have said something nice.”
Even gasps, clutching his chest. “God forbid you’re nice to me.”
Behind that sarcastic grin is a hint of hurt, and before Isak can stop himself, he says, “I want to be nice to you.”
That makes Even hesitate. “Then why aren’t you?”
“I can’t,” Isak says matter-of-factly. “It could be very bad for me.”
Even chuckles then, and somewhere in the back of his head, Isak knows he should be annoyed, but he can’t muster up the energy right now. “You’re nice enough,” Even says.
Isak shakes his head adamantly. “No, I’m not. I think I’m a little bit of an asshole, actually.”
“I kind of deserved it.”
Now it’s Isak’s turn to gasp. “Don’t say that. No one deserves people being…being mean to them.”
Even’s smile is indulgent, but for once, it doesn’t bug Isak. “No, no one really does,” he agrees.
Isak’s voice drops. “Can I tell you a secret?” He doesn’t wait for Even’s answer before he says, “I don’t deserve that either.”
Even makes some sort of strangled sound. “That’s a secret?”
Isak nods very seriously. “Jonas says sometimes I forget that.”
Even pulls him closer, and he’s warm, so warm that Isak could fall asleep against his chest, right in the middle of this club. He’s so drunk he can barely even hear the music, and anyway, the thump of the bass is lulling him to sleep. “You shouldn’t forget that,” Even says softly.
“Isak can be kind of mean to himself,” he says.
Even actually laughs at that. It’s a beautiful sound, pure and carefree, and Isak realizes that it’s the first time he’s heard that laugh. He’s a little addicted already.
“Alright, talking about yourself in third person is always a bad sign. Let’s find your friends,” Even says. He tries to pull Isak off the chair, but his legs are actually jelly, and his face smashes against Even’s shoulder. He has to wrap his arms around Even to keep himself upright, but for some reason, Even stiffens. Isak frowns. That’s not good. Isak’s having a great time tangled up with Even, but what if Even secretly hates him? That would suck.
He doesn’t realize he’s said it aloud before Even laughs again, and yep, definitely addicted. “I definitely don’t hate you. Come on, I see Eva sucking face with Noora.”
Panic rises up in Isak. “No, don’t go over there.”
“Why?” Even says.
“Because it’s their party, and I don’t want to ruin it.”
“I doubt you’d be ruining anything. You’re one of her best friends.”
But Isak shakes his head so vigorously that Even eventually sighs, “I’m taking you home myself, then.”
Isak’s eyes widen. He’s already burdened Even enough, behaving like this. Even didn’t come here to take care of Isak. “No, you’re here to have fun.”
Even chuckles. “I came here to say hi to Noora, and guess what, I’m doing that now.” He waves over Isak’s shoulder, then shoots Noora a thumbs up. Pouting, Isak realizes that he’s the subject of the thumbs up. There’s probably time to be embarrassed about this later, but right now, Even is drawing circles on his back, and he feels, for the first time in years, that he’s right where he’s supposed to be.
Even manages to get him into an Uber, with only one delay for Isak to throw up on the curb. Even pats his back sympathetically, and even in this state, he can’t help but hate that Even’s seeing him like this, when Isak has never seen him looking any less than perfect.
You’d have to stick around to see that, Isak reminds himself. You don’t want that.
That thought flits away in the next second.
It takes ten harrowing minutes for the Uber to get to Isak’s apartment complex, and he spends all of them clutching his stomach. The roof of the car spins around him, but Even’s presence next to him keeps him grounded. If he focuses on that, his stomach calms down somewhat.
It doesn’t hit him until they arrive at Isak’s door. “How do you know where I live?”
Even doesn’t even bat an eye as he reaches into Isak’s coat pocket to pull out his keys. “We live in the same building. I’ve seen you around.”
“Did you see me before I saw you?” he says, slowly. The thought makes him feel all bubbly inside. Even had seen him.
Even sighs. “Yes, because that’s the story of my life.” Before Isak can figure out whatever the hell that means, Even’s pulling him inside. Isak plops down on the couch immediately, even turns himself on his side because if he’s going to be a drunk idiot, he’s doing to be a drunk idiot who doesn’t choke on his own vomit. Besides, he’s taken care of Magnus’ drunk ass enough times for this to be instinctual.
Even places a trash can next to his head and sits on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. His legs are so long that it’s almost absurd, but Isak’s laugh comes more as a wet cough.
“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down on a bed?” Even says.
Isak shakes his head, but miscalculates and shakes it a little too hard. The room spins for a second, but Even reaches out to steady him. His touch is feather-light, but leaves a scorching imprint. Even’s hand flits away in the next second, but Isak can’t get it out of his head, can’t get Even out of his head.
“Maybe it’s not a good idea to move you after all,” Even says, amused.
The couch suddenly feels like the best mattress money can buy, and Isak yawns loudly. “Beds are for…they’re for people who have their shit together anyway.”
“Not you then?”
“Nuh-uh. I still can’t eat adult Cheerios. I have to pour extra sugar on them,” he says proudly.
“Healthy cereal is overrated,” Even agrees.
“That’s what I tell Eva! But she’s worried I may get dia…diab…dia…”
“Diabetes?”
“It’s a very long word. You’re really smart.”
Even chuckles. “Not as smart as you. Eva tells me you’re studying Biochemistry.”
Isak makes a face. “Only when I’m sober. Drunk Isak can only study this couch.” He rolls over, mashing his face against the cushion, but Even is there in the next second, turning him back over. He looks at Even with glassy eyes. “You saved me.”
Even hums but doesn’t respond. Isak doesn’t miss the way his mouth quirks upwards. It turns out making Even smile is a lot less exhausting than disappointing him, and isn’t that something he wants to forget by the time he’s sober. Even finds the ratty blanket at the arm of the couch and tucks Isak in. Isak moans in relief as he pulls it up to his chin, and the corners of Even’s eyes crinkle at that. Isak is suddenly hit with the urge to touch, to run his fingers over the dips of Even’s face so he has them burned into his skin.
He stops himself just in time. His hand falls to Even’s forearm instead, but he snatches it away in the next second. “Thank you,” he says finally.
Even’s eyes soften, and he tucks a strand of Isak’s hair behind his ear. The curl bounces back just as quickly, but Even doesn’t try again, and Isak is only left bereft. “We’ve all been there.”
“It’s just that my ex was here tonight, and – “
“You don’t have to say any more. I’m not the best person around my ex either.”
Isak’s eyes are already drifting shut when he whispers, “Can I tell you another secret?”
“Yeah?”
“I used to be like you. I used to believe in people too.”
Even looks pained. “Isak, maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this now.”
Even’s expression is already shuttering closed, and that’s not okay. That’s not okay when Isak feels solid in a way he thought was lost to him. That’s not okay when he wants to figure out what this is between them, if there is anything at all or if Isak’s just making it up. He doesn’t know what he’d prefer.
“I just wanted you to know. Because – “
Isak proceeds to throw up on Even’s shirt, and that’s that.
day twenty-one.
“I know what you’re thinking, Jonas,” Isak says, as he stirs the batter. “And I want you to stop thinking it.”
“You want me to stop thinking about British colonialism? I wish half the world could.” Jonas is doing some homework in the living room, if they can even call it that. Their apartment is so small that the kitchen and living room are basically one. Isak knows Jonas can afford something bigger, can afford a nicer place with a roommate who regularly contributes his share of the utilities and groceries. This place is a necessity borne from Isak’s own meager savings, and there’s not a day that goes by without Isak feeling guilty about dragging Jonas into his mess. But Jonas had insisted they stick together, and in the end, it hadn’t been much of a fight.
The apartment may be a dump, but it’s a place to call his own, one that he’d earned from his own hard work. It had taken a year of working late shifts at their 24-hour supermarket for him to be able to save enough money for this. He can even afford his own food now, most of the time, though he knows Jonas doesn’t mind him mooching off him when he’s in a bind. Asking Jonas for the eggs he needed to make Even’s apology cookies, though – well, Jonas may never stop giving him shit for that.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Isak huffs. “I want you to stop thinking that Even’s, like, a thing for me. Because he isn’t.”
“Which is why you’re making him cookies.”
“They’re an apology for throwing up on him.” Isak cringes as he recalls the memory. There’d been a time when he could down fifteen vodka shots without breaking a sweat, but his growing age is kind of a bitch. Twenty years old – his wild youth is practically over. He vaguely remembers trying to apologize after the vomit had been projected, but nothing after that. All he knows is that he’d woken up with a glass of water next to his head, his shoes off, and his coat hung by the door. He’d laid there for another thirty minutes, running through all the options.
He could pretend yesterday never happened. But the memories are all too clear, and he’s never been a good actor. He can’t even tell Jonas that his new jeans look good without sounding fake, and pretending that he hadn’t pathetically revealed too much of himself is a much more daunting task than lying to Jonas about how good his ass looks.
Which brings him here. There’s no way he can avoid Even at school, when they’re bound to see each other in class. The only option is to apologize and get it over with, and no one can say no to cookies. That they’re the only thing Isak can bake halfway decently is an added perk. He’s proud to say that the guys have all eaten them without complaint. He’s practically a PTA mom.
“Most guys you vomit on will accept a ‘sorry’ text.”
Isak tries to measure out an appropriate amount of chocolate chips, then decides to fuck it and dump them all in. Isak’s never complained about too much chocolate. “I don’t have his number.”
“Eva has his number. And it would’ve taken you the exact same amount of effort to ask her for it instead of asking her where he lives.”
“He lives here. I just thought it’d be convenient.”
“You whined about climbing three flights of stairs that time the elevator broke.”
“I’ve been working out.”
“I just want you to be open to the idea that you maybe, quite possibly, like him?”
Isak sighs. “Look, Even’s a cool guy, okay? I don’t not like him.”
Jonas snorts. “That’s a stunning endorsement.”
“But I haven’t dated anyone in so long I’m not sure I remember how to.”
“Then don’t date him. What’s the big deal? This guy is nice to you, obviously wants to be friends – “
Isak winces. “That’s kind of the problem.”
“The problem is that he’s not a dick to you?”
“Most people are. Dicks, I mean.”
“What about me?” Jonas says, indignant.
“You stole my hot Cheetos. You’re kind of a dick.” With a breath of relief, Isak finally pops the tray in the oven. He’d even used Eva’s cookie cutters. If Even can resist these, he’s inhuman. They look like dinosaurs, for God’s sake.
Back in the living room, Jonas has abandoned his homework to text a girl he’d met at the club yesterday, but his head perks up when Isak comes in. “How long are the cookies going to bake?” Jonas says.
Isak looks down at his watch. “T-minus 30 minutes until apology. Wish me luck.”
“I only know what Eva’s told me, but from what I can tell, Even’s not the kind of guy who’s going to hold a little bit of vomit against you.”
It had been a lot of vomit, but Jonas doesn’t need the clarification. “I know he won’t.” Isak grabs a pillow and shoves his face into it to hide. “I’m just so fucking embarrassed .”
“For throwing up? We’ve all done it.”
“For letting Alex get to me like that,” he admits softly. Isak likes to think that, over the years, he’s developed a sort of immunity to the things that hurt, but this is the one that will never go away. No matter how far he’s come, all of it’s in spite of Alex, defined by everything bad that had happened between them. He hasn’t spoken to Alex since the breakup, but Isak hasn’t grown any better at handling seeing him around. He still wonders when he’ll be able to go about doing everyday human things without this weighing on him.
“I think that says more about him than it does about you.”
Isak huffs out a breath. “I just hate giving him so much power over me.”
“I’m not saying it’s easy, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re starting to change that.”
“What do you mean?”
Jonas nods at the cookies, smirking knowingly. Isak gives a grand roll of his eyes, but he doesn’t have enough energy to protest.
Anyway, a tiny part of Isak hopes that Jonas is right.
Even’s wearing an apron when he opens the door. He blinks at him for a second, then breaks out into a tentative smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
Isak holds up the plate of cookies, clearing his throat. “I just came to give you this. I was kind of a mess last night, and you didn’t have to take me home.” Some of the cookies have started falling apart, but he’s still pretty proud of himself. For someone who’s been living off Ramen for the past semester, apparently he’s still got some domesticity in him.
Even just keeps staring at him, and slowly, Isak’s face starts to burn. “Sorry if this is weird,” he rushes out. What the hell had he been thinking? They barely know each other, but here’s Isak begging for Even’s forgiveness like they’re friends, or worse .
(Or better.)
Even shakes his head quickly. “No, no. Of course it’s not weird. I just didn’t take you for much of a baker, that’s all.”
Isak coughs. “Oh, I’m not. I set a cake on fire once.”
“Did the cake deserve it?”
“Oh yeah, that cake was the worst . Gossiped about all the other cakes, refused to make new friends, stole everyone’s crayons, that kind of thing.”
“You’re a hero. Saving the world one cake at a time.”
“It’s my true calling. Medicine is just a pit stop.”
Even chuckles, but turns serious again just as quickly. “You don’t have to thank me. I wasn’t going to let you pass out in that club.”
“Some people would have.”
The weight of Even’s stare is too much, and Isak has to lower his gaze. He’s crazy for thinking this was a good idea. Sooner or later, Even would find out about Isak’s demons, and he’d only be left with disdain, or worse, pity. Even looks like the kind of guy who would appreciate a project, but Isak can’t be fixed. He just can’t.
“Uncle Evy, I smell cookies,” a small voice says suddenly. When Isak looks down, there’s a little girl, no older than five, grabbing at the bottom of Even’s jeans. She’s wearing a Captain America shirt, and she looks so much like Even it’s a little disconcerting. She cocks her head at Isak. “Who are you?”
Isak’s never been good at dealing with surprises, but thankfully, Even beats him to it. “This is my friend Isak. Isak, this is my niece Elise.” Even mouths sorry, but Elise doesn’t seem to notice, because she only has eyes for the cookies. She stands on her tip-toes to get a good look at them, but Isak quickly brings them down to her eye level. Before they’re even strictly in reach, Elise snatches one, as if one of them would stop her if she doesn’t go for it now. Superhero reflexes, indeed.
Isak bites his lip to hold back his laughter.
After one bite, she seems to determine her verdict. “You can bake?” There’s chocolate smeared all over her mouth, and Even rolls his eyes fondly at the mess. Isak’s chest aches.
“That’s kind of a stretch, but – “
Elise tugs on Even’s sleeve. “Can he help us, please, please ?” She turns to Isak. “We’re baking a giant cookie for my class, and then I’m gonna decorate it like Captain America’s shield, and it’s gonna be great.”
Isak sneaks a quick glance at Even, but can’t read his expression. “I’m sure you and your uncle have it covered.”
There’s something about this kind of unbridled enthusiasm that always makes Isak nostalgic for the childhood he’d never had. Even when things with his parents were more or less fine, he’d always known his mom wasn’t normal, even as he tried his best to ignore it. She was just eccentric, and religious, and moms didn’t have to spend every waking second with their kid to be a good mom. And she was a good mom, when it mattered. When he’d broken his leg falling off his bike, when he’d played a tree in that school play and she’d clapped the loudest, when his dad had left for the first time.
But that’s just his mind playing tricks on him. Those had been rare, fleeting moments of joy in a time mostly spent in fear and loneliness. Isak’s starting to forget the bad now that he’s had time to recover. He can’t let himself forget.
Elise pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Uncle Evy bought cookie dough, but I wanted to make the cookies by ourselves. That’s how my friend Mary and her mom do it.”
Even sighs. “I told you it’s just easier that way.” Over her head, he mouths I can’t bake.
Isak barely manages to stifle his snort.
“I’m sure Isak is busy, Elise.”
Isak’s stomach drops. Even must have gotten the signal by now – Isak’s fucked up enough times for him to get sick of him. He may indulge Isak when he’s literally helpless, but allowing him to hang out with his niece is another story. He should go, finish that Genetics assignment he’s been putting off, start the semester on the right foot.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” Even says, and the uncertainty in his voice stops Isak in his tracks. A spark of hope blossoms in Isak’s chest.
“I’m free, but only if it’s okay with you,” he says.
A part of him hopes Even will say no.
But Even breaks into a wide smile, and Isak’s breath catches in his throat. “Of course it’s okay with me. Plus, it’ll take two of us to make this monster behave.”
Elise pouts. “I’m not a monster – “ But Even’s already scooping her up in his arms and taking her inside. It’s not an easy task given the sheer amount of squirming, but no matter how loudly she shrieks for him to let her down, he manages to hold on. Soon, she’s laughing, and they look so comfortable together that Isak’s heart gives a squeeze. He hesitates at the door, wary of ruining that perfect picture.
Even looks over his shoulder, asks, “Are you coming in? I’ll try my best not to set your cookies on fire, but no promises.”
There’s only one answer he can give.
“Do you want me to help, Elise?” Even asks, hovering over her. Elise has spent the last fifteen minutes stirring the batter Isak had thrown together, but it’s still more clumps than actual batter.
“ No ,” she insists, snatching the bowl away from Even so forcefully that she nearly topples over.
It’s only Isak who keeps her from falling off the stool, and as he helps her regain her balance on the seat, Even beams at him. It’s Isak’s turn to nearly lose his balance.
“I’m not a baby,” Elise pouts.
“I know you’re not. I’m just trying to make it go faster. Don’t you want to eat the cookies soon?” Isak can hear the trace of frustration in his voice. He gets it. At this rate, they won’t be done for another hour, and Even’s sister is picking her up soon. She’s out getting her hair done before a networking event, because looking good is the only way she gets through those few hours of literal hell. She works at a law firm, Even had explained as he laid out the ingredients. Pays well, but he personally can’t fathom spending his entire day in a suit, arguing about other people’s problems.
Isak had also found that Even has a tendency to babble when he’s nervous. It’s kind of cute. But the fact that Isak is the one making Even nervous, no matter the reason, has him a little dizzy. He’s never liked this kind of responsibility.
Isak gently places a hand on Elise’s hand, halting her movements. “Why don’t we do this together?”
Elise looks at him suspiciously.
“We’ll pour the batter into two bowls, and whoever gets it mixed the fastest wins?”
Elise lights up. Isak must’ve guessed right – he’d had a competitive streak a mile wide when he was that age too, before it slowly became a chore to care about much of anything. It’s taken time to relearn that, but now he’s proud of say that he’s as much of a competitive asshole as he was at five years old.
The contest is what gives Elise enough energy to finish up, and Isak slows down enough that they tie at the end. Even gives her a standing ovation as Isak pops the cookie in the oven, and Elise giggles in glee. “This is going to be so much better than Chris’ Batman cupcakes.”
“I don’t know, Elise, Batman is pretty cool,” Isak says.
“But does he beat a giant cookie?”
And Isak can’t argue against that.
They eat Isak’s cookies as they wait, and they’re honestly not half bad. Would’ve been better years ago, when he still had his mom’s recipe fresh in his memory, but they’re on the better side of average. The chocolate is still gooey, which is the true test of a good cookie, really.
Isak glances across the table, at the smear of chocolate on Even’s lips, and he thinks that’s never been truer. By the time Even’s sister, Anna, comes to pick up her daughter, Isak has eaten so many cookies he can feel the impending stomachache. There’s icing everywhere in Even’s kitchen – the aftermath of an impromptu war between the three of them – but Anna doesn’t blink an eye.
“Between you and me,” Anna tells Isak as Even says goodbye to Elise, “Better his kitchen than mine. Thanks for helping with her.”
“No problem. She’s a really good kid.”
Anna looks at him curiously. “What’s your name? Even talks about his friends constantly, and I don’t think he’s ever mentioned you?”
Isak scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, I’m Isak.”
“New friend?”
Isak is about to respond that they aren’t really friends, that this is the longest civil, sober interaction they’ve had, but that seems like too much to unload on a stranger he’ll never see again. In the end, he settles on, “Yeah, I’m a new friend.”
It feels like a lie for all the wrong reasons. This feels so much bigger than that.
After he shuts the door behind him, Even lets out a sigh. “I love her, but that kid has so much energy.”
“You’re just a grumpy old man.”
“I’m only three years older than you.”
“Three years is a long time. You start hurting everywhere , forget all about the wonders of childhood…”
Even shakes his head in amusement. “You’re not what I expected, Isak Valtersen.” Isak waits for him to clarify, but he seems to like keeping Isak in the dark, the jerk. He rifles around in his drawers for something, but when he pulls out a Ziploc bag of old brownies, Isak’s disappointed.
“You want?” Even asks.
Isak pats his stomach. “Thanks, but I think I’ve had enough baked goods for the day. I better get going.”
Even quirks an eyebrow at him, and he suddenly gets it.
“On second thought, I think I’ll stay.”
Even had gotten them high by arguing that cleaning a kitchen is always better when you’re not entirely sober, but in the end, they ignore the mess completely in favor of lying on Even’s bed, side by side. Isak doesn’t do edibles much, prefers smoking whatever his friends have available, and he’d forgotten how easy it is for them to completely fuck him up in the best way. This is the most relaxed he’s felt in months. No impending assignments he has to ace to keep his scholarship, no stress about the extra shifts he’s working this weekend to pay rent on time.
Even’s room, like his kitchen, is overflowing with the sheer amount of staff he’s managed to cram into it. It’s nothing like Isak’s bare apartment, which is only filled with the bare necessities. Isak is once again reminded of the distance between them. There’s a guitar at the corner of the room, a desktop computer that’s collecting dust, and his walls are covered with pictures – so many of them that they’re spinning before Isak’s eyes. Some of them are beautiful, realistic renderings of people he assumes are Even’s friends, but he likes the funny ones the best. He makes out a cartoon of what he assumes are Captain America and Putin falling in love, another starring Mercutio – Magnus is studying literature, and some of that Shakespeare knowledge must have transferred over by osmosis, to Isak’s chagrin.
He doesn’t notice Even gauging his reaction until he asks, “Do you like them?”
Isak smiles softly. “Yeah, they’re really funny.”
But that’s not really why he’s so fascinated. He’s suddenly realizing how little he knows about Even, and he’s a little scared by how much he wants to know more, to sink deep into everything that makes up this boy.
“What did Eva tell you about me?” Isak asks carefully.
“Nothing except that you were studying Biochem and that you were rooming with Jonas, I swear. I had no idea she was trying to set us up or – “
“I believe you.”
“You do?” Even says, surprised.
“Eva is really big into helping people figure themselves out when they don’t want it.”
Even chuckles. “So does Noora. I’m kind of scared of them joining forces.”
“Well, they’ve already failed once with us, so maybe that’ll set them back.”
Even coughs, and Isak blushes all over. Neither of them have to say it. They may have gotten off to a rocky start, but they’re lying in bed together, so really, had the girls failed?
Isak has to tell himself the answer is yes. That’s the only way he can keep his sanity.
“I still think you know more about me than I know about you,” Isak says, quickly changing the subject. “I don’t even know what your major is.”
“Noora didn’t warn you I was a dirty arts student?”
Isak feigns a groan. “I guess we can’t hang out anymore.”
“You’re killing me, Valtersen.”
Isak shrugs. “Sorry, maybe if you just majored in something more useful. Have you ever heard of Biochem – “
Even hits him with a pillow then, which Isak grabs to muffle his laughter. It’s too easy to be around Even, too easy to feel light and carefree when Isak should feel anything but.
“Really, though,” Isak says when he’s done, “I may not get the arts, but I promise I’m not a snob. What’s your major?”
“Film. I’m a fourth year.”
Isak slowly turns to face Even, pillowing his head on his hand. Even’s hand is only inches from his, taunting him. “You make movies?”
Even looks amused. “I try.”
“Do, or do not. There is no try.”
Even snorts. “Did you really just quote Yoda at me?” But his eyes are bright, and he looks impossibly fond. He strokes a thumb across Isak’s cheekbone, and Isak shudders under his touch. A part of him is desperate to tell Even to snap out of it, because he’s not brave enough to do it himself.
The bigger part of him stays silent.
“You’re the one who has a Lego Millenium Falcon,” Isak teases. Isak had treated his own Lego Starship Enterprise like it was the Hope Diamond itself, but that’s justified. It does seem a little counterproductive to get into the Star Wars vs. Star Trek debate right now, though.
“Hey, don’t shit on the Legos. They’re surprisingly complicated.”
“I remember. My mom said that when I was a kid, I’d always try eating them when I got frustrated with actually putting them together.”
“I always thought they were too colorful for you not to eat.”
“Finally! Someone who agrees with me.”
“Now you can tell your mom that.”
Isak’s mouth goes dry, and it’s almost uncanny how quickly Even catches on.
“What’s wrong?” he says.
Isak clears his throat, and it comes out a little wet. “My mom and I don’t really talk.”
That’s a little bit of a lie. A year ago, Isak had dropped off his phone number in the birthday card he left on her doorstep. Four years after he’d walked away and she still lived in the same house. It may be a good sign – she must be self-reliant at least part of the time. Isak prefers to take it as a good sign. He’d made sure her car was gone from the driveway before stopping by, but that didn’t stop the sharp ache in his chest as he stood in front of the too-familiar front door.
For a second, he’d tried to think of it as home.
It didn’t work. He’d shaken his head, as if to throw off the thought. It didn’t sit right with him, made him feel a little gross, honestly. The ties he has to this place are memories long faded. They belong to someone else entirely, someone younger, less lost. He’d finally cut off ties to his childhood, and he didn’t feel any stronger for it.
If you ever want to tell me about your day, he’d written in the card. His mother had instead chosen to send him Bible verses every couple of weeks. He even remembers her yelling some of them at him during her episodes, back when he’d lived at home. Verses about God’s power, His will. Verses about the sin of homosexuality.
Isak had gone out to get well and truly fucked up after that one. The guy he’d gone home with was a little rough around the edges, but Isak was a still surprised at how long the bruises stayed after. He shouldn’t have been. He remembered asking for it, distantly, as if watching himself from afar. The truth is, he doesn’t why pain is so much easier for him to handle than all the good in the world. Maybe it’s better not to know.
When he’d left that morning, clothes stained with come and feeling emptier than he had for a long time, he finally understood his mother. A sin, indeed.
For his part, Even doesn’t probe further. He only gives Isak a small smile, brushes his fingers along Isak’s arm.
Isak has never appreciated him more.
Isak rolls over, so he’s facing the ceiling again. He smiles when he sees a picture of young Even with a video camera. His smile is so bright it’s almost blinding, or maybe that’s just what Isak chooses to see. “What kind of movies do you make?”
If the change in subject surprises Even, he doesn’t let it show. The corner of his mouth twitches upward. “You’re going to hate this, but my best ones are the love stories.”
Isak snorts, but this time, there’s no condescension. He should’ve expected this, honestly, as if this ridiculous boy could do anything but. “How sappy are they?”
“Actually, most of them are pretty sad.”
Isak eyebrows shoot up. “What? But you actually believe in love.”
“I do, but love can be the saddest feeling in the world.” Even’s mouth quirks upwards, and his smile is a little wistful. “Besides, the most epic love stories are the ones that end in tragedy.”
“You can’t really believe that,” Isak protests. This doesn’t fit with what he’s seen from Even so far. Besides, if Even doesn’t believe in happy endings, what do the rest of them have to look forward to?
Even chuckles. “Who are you and what have you done to Isak Valtersen?” Isak gives an indignant snort at that.
Even’s smile turns pensive. “I think that you need the tragedies to remind yourself how good love can be, even if it ends badly. The endings aren’t always the most important part of the story.”
“Isn’t that the only part that matters?” With Alex, everything had been bad — all of it, from their meeting, to their relationship, all the way to the bitter end. It had only taken Isak months to get that, long after their breakup, and he still feels a little pathetic for acting like a fool for so goddamn long.
Even sits up so suddenly that he nearly knocks the joint from Isak’s fingers. “Alright, this is enough.”
“Enough what?”
“You look sad.”
Isak snorts. “Everyone’s fucking sad.”
Even peers at him intently. “That’s a real fucking depressing thought,” he says.
Isak shrugs.
Even scrambles off the bed, heading to the precarious stack of vinyls sitting on his desk. Trying to pick one is like an elaborate game of Jenga, but Even manages to do it anyway. He holds up one album proudly. “I did promise you I’d introduce you to NAS.”
“And I told you I’d listened to him before,” Isak says, but it’s more of a half hearted joke than anything. It still gets a grin out of Even, though, and before he can tamp it down, he’s grinning back. He’s ridiculous, Even’s ridiculous, and this entire thing is ridiculous. If anyone had told him back at their first meeting, that Even would somehow get him into his bed — no matter how innocent all this is — he would have laughed in their face. Now, this feels like the most natural thing.
And right then, the fear seems secondary to the sheer joy that thought brings.
Isak settles back against the pillows as Even puts the record in the player. “I’m expecting this to change my life.”
“It will,” Even beams and for a second, it doesn’t feel like they’re talking about the music.
Two hours later, Isak is still in Even’s bedroom, belly full with laughter and the cheese toasties that Even had scrounged up from the kitchen. By the time they’d actually gotten to finishing them, the toasties were less toast than cold blocks of bread, but they still tasted delicious, better than any fancy dinner Eva took him to with her mom’s guilt money. The brownies had worn off enough for Even to pull out a joint — from behind his ear, no less — and each hit seems better than the last. Isak can’t remember what they were talking about, really. They could’ve been talking about the weather for all he knew. All he feels is a soft warmth, and Isak comes perilously closer to bringing his hand to Even’s with each passing second. He doesn’t think Even would mind.
“Why are you in an Intro to Cinema class anyway if that’s your major?” Isak asks. Even’s sprawled out on his stomach, searching through his Netflix for something both of them can agree on. So far, Isak’s vetoed everything Even can come up with, but he doesn’t think Even cares all that much, if his widening grin is any indication. He seems to get a kick out of Isak’s bitching, which is great, really, because that’s the one thing he’s sure he can do well.
“Forgot to take it my first year. I started a year late, so my schedule was fucked.” Even hovers his mouse over Magic Mike, and yeah, he’s not even trying anymore. Even will never have to know exactly how many times Magnus had roped him into watching that movie, though he didn’t have to try too hard.
“Why’d you start late?”
“Medical reasons,” Even says. He breathes in slowly, bracing himself. “I, uh, am actually bipolar. I had really bad episode right before college started.”
Isak’s brain shuts down for a second. “Oh.”
“I just thought you should know that.”
Isak nods silently, but his head is a mess. Bipolar. It’s such a goddamn scary word. His mind flashes back to his mom’s diagnosis — it hadn’t seemed real then either.
But Even is more real than anything, more real than Isak would like, if he has any sense of self-preservation.
Even eyes pierce right through him, but Isak can sense the nervousness behind them. “How do you feel about that?” he asks hesitantly.
“I don’t think what I feel should matter, because no one’s opinion should ever make you feel bad about who you are,” Isak says carefully. Even isn’t his mom. That she had refused to get treatment, would rather hurt her son that help herself, that’s not his mom’s illness. That’s on her. “But, if you’re wondering, I’d never have a problem with something like that.”
Even breaks out in a grin. “It matters. You matter.”
Isak shakes his head vigorously, but Even just keeps smiling that secret smile. It’s becoming more endearing than annoying. It’s becoming a goddamn problem.
Isak’s stomach flips, and suddenly, it’s hard to keep still. He looks around the room for a distraction, anything to keep himself from falling deeper, and that’s what he sees their picture, right by Even’s desk.
Even has his arms around some girl with short hair, Eiffel Tower in the background. It’s the most cliché fucking thing, but Isak can’t say that he’s never thought about it, about letting someone sweep him off his feet and do all the cheesy things couples are meant to do. He hadn’t realized until now how truly fucked he was until the disappointment fully settled in his gut. He’s a fool. Even had been too good to be true after all.
The girl is beautiful, and Isak can’t stop staring. She’s beautiful and it makes so much sense for her and Even to be together. It figures someone like Even only dates supermodels. Isak doesn’t stand a chance, even if he’d been looking for one.
“What are you looking at – oh,” Even says flatly. “That’s Sonja.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Ex.” Even runs his fingers through his hair in agitation. “I just haven’t taken the picture down yet. We only broken up two months ago, but I guess I got so used to it that I forgot it was there.”
Isak wants to breathe out in relief, but something stops him, chokes him up. “You two dated for a while?”
“About five years.”
Isak can’t fathom loving someone for that long, being loved by someone that long.
“We were both seeing other people by the end anyway,” Even continues.
Alex had been “seeing other people” too, casually, like Isak didn’t care. Like Isak didn’t deserve to care.
Isak stands up, brushing the breadcrumbs off his hoodie. “Look, I gotta go.” He doesn’t meet Even’s eyes.
“Already?”
“I’ve been here for hours.”
Even glances at his phone, suddenly noticing the time. “Then a few more hours won’t matter, right?”
Isak shakes his head. “I have a test on Monday.”
“Can’t you study here?” At the pure hope in Even’s plea, Isak almost cracks. Even’s already proven that he’s not Alex, but he needs time to think, and it’s too much of a risk. Especially if Alex was right, that there’s something wrong with Isak that makes it hard for people to stay interested for long. The idea that Even could — and probably would — get tired of him makes him feel sick to his stomach. “I’ll stay quiet.” Even mimes zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key.
Isak does crack at that, a little, but his smile flits away just as quickly. “I’ll see you later,” he says, because that’s all he can give Even right now.
Even nods unhappily, but he’s a perfect gentleman as he walks Isak to the door.
Isak can’t sleep that night at all.