Chapter Text
Isak can tell the exact moment Even arrives at the party before he even sees him.
Something shifts in the air. In a second, it becomes more electric, almost feverish with exhilaration. A murmur courses through the crowd, heads turn in all directions in the hope to get a glimpse of him, to see with their own eyes that the rumour is true: Even — Even Bech Næsheim is back in Oslo, and he is here tonight.
Isak plays it cool, but he feels his heartbeat race, his hands shake slightly. He looks around, breath hitching each time he thinks he can spot a flash of swoopy blond hair or hear a burst of laughter that sounds like his — the echo of a melody he used to love so much but hasn't heard in years, not directly. But when he searches the sea of people surrounding him, it’s never him.
It’s no surprise he can’t find Even so easily; it seems like half of Oslo is at that party, on the very last day of the year. From the moment word got out that he would be here, everyone became the friend of a friend of a friend of the girl throwing the party and found a way to get invited, or just invited themselves. It didn’t seem like she cared how many people came, her parents’ fancy house in Frogner is huge, and she’s probably thrilled to be at the center of the event of the closing year.
Isak isn’t exactly a fan of having a big blowout on New Year’s Eve. These parties are always a bit too much, people desperate to make it a big one, convinced that the entire new year will be as exciting and fun as that night, only to go back to their same everyday life filled with unkept resolutions. To him it was just another reason to party but he was fine doing it just like the rest of the year.
Usually, he reluctantly follows his friends to these kinds of big new year’s eve parties, but not this year. Not tonight.
For once, it does feel like a special night. Like a promise of something new and exciting. For once he does feel like his life will be changed in a big way come the new year. Because after what felt like an endless wait, Even is finally back in Oslo. And soon also in his life.
Isak met Even when he was seventeen.
It was at another party, one he didn’t even want to go to in the first place; but Sana had forced him to.
Admittedly, Isak had kinda fucked up. He’d hidden some pot in a vase at Eva’s during a party when the police had turned up, probably after getting a phone call from a neighbour about all the noise and underage drinking going on. Sure, it could have gotten Eva into trouble, if not with the police then at least with her mum, but it didn’t. So Sana withholding his weed and blackmailing him into attending that stupid kosegruppa party was definitely excessive.
But there he was, willing to make it up to Eva whatever way Sana had decided he would. He didn’t want to argue with her anyway. So he’d agreed to come to their revue party with his friends. Apparently it was important to the girls, especially Vilde and Eva who were worried that no one would show up. It would probably suck, a whole night out with nothing but revue nerds, but at least the guys would be there too, and Isak would get back his weed.
After almost an hour of waiting, Isak had to face up to the realisation that the guys weren’t coming. Mahdi had supposedly forgotten about it, even though Isak had repeatedly reminded them of the damn party; Jonas had “something” he had to do with his mum and Magnus just laughed at Isak in the group chat for being there on his own, not even bothering to come up with some bullshit excuse. At least he was the only one being honest about it.
When Isak was almost ready to storm out, fucking bag of pot be damned, a group of guys walked into the party in a racket of booming laughter. Six boys he was sure he’d never seen before at school or a night out. He wouldn’t have missed them if he had, they instantly filled the space, loud and exuding a sort of easy coolness. And one of them…
One of them was the hottest guy Isak had ever seen. He was tall and lean, with swoopy blond hair and bright blue eyes that almost closed when he smiled, wide and warm.
“Um, Vilde?” Isak called her when she walked past him, a glass filled to the brim with white wine in her hand.
“Yeah?”
“Who’s that?” He asked quietly, jerking his head towards the group of friends.
“Oh that’s Sana’s brother and his friends!” She beamed, taking a small sip of her drink. “They’re going to Bakka but we thought it’d be nice if they came tonight. They’re in third year, isn’t that cool?”
“Uh sure, I guess…” Isak refrained from rolling his eyes at Vilde’s weird obsession about school status. He didn’t want to vex her, not if he wanted her to tell him more about the boys. “So you know them, or…?”
“Not very well. That’s Elias, Sana’s sister.” She unfurled one of her fingers from around the glass to point at them. “That’s Yousef, Adam, I think, and um…” She stopped when someone called her from across the room. “Anyway it’s so nice that you came tonight Isak, you should mingle!” She said with a final, too bright smile, before leaving Isak on his own with no useful information about who that guy was. Not even his name.
Lost in his thought, Isak didn’t realise he’d stayed there looking at them, at him.
Until their gazes met; his eyes slightly wide in surprise of realising he’d been watched and, oh so blue. He tilted his head to the side like he was pondering something, studying Isak, and smiled. Realising he’d been caught staring, Isak felt his cheek flush red. He looked away and lifted his beer to his mouth. The glass of the bottle felt cool against his lips, but when he tilted his head back he realised it was empty.
“Shit,” he muttered.
Unable to stop himself, Isak threw a quick look back at the guy, hoping he hadn’t seen that. But the guy was still looking, and his small smile had curled into an amused smirk like they were sharing some kind of inside joke. It felt a little embarrassing, but also kind of exhilarating.
Isak quickly turned around and walked out of the living room, leaving his empty beer bottle on the nearest piece of furniture. He made his way to the kitchen, opened the fridge, bending close to let the cold air inside cool his flushed cheeks, and snatched a can of Tuborg. Cracking it open, he leant against the counter and closed his eyes as he took a long swig.
“Fucking hell…” he sighed, torn between to urge to finally clear out of this damn party and the curiosity, the instant attraction he was feeling toward that boy.
“That bad?” A deep voice interrupted his musing, making Isak jump.
Isak’s eyes were still closed, but somehow he knew the voice was his. There was something about the way it instantly made his skin tingle. His belly flip.
He opened them and was thrilled to realise he was right. The guy was there, standing in the kitchen, looking at him with that amused look still shining in his eyes.
“I mean, it’s a nice party, don't you think?” He walked across the room to join Isak.
“Sure,” Isak scoffed, finding his bravado again with the elation of feeling the guy get closer to him. “I mean if you’re into baking bread and trust falling it must be.”
“Oh, so is that what that kosegruppa thing is about?”
“The fuck would I know?”
“You’re not part of it?”
“No,” Isak spat like it was the most ridiculous idea.
“But you’re still here and obviously having the time of your life because…?” The guy pondered before suddenly raising his hand up like he’d had a sudden idea. “Okay don’t tell me, there’s a girl, right? That brunette girl with a pixie cut? Pretty sure she was checking you out.”
“What? No!” Isak objected, desperate for the guy to not get the false idea that he was into someone else. If only he could just flash the guy a flirty smile and tell he wasn’t into girls, but things were not that simple. “It’s Sana, okay?”
“Sana? Oh–”
“l mean, she forced me to come. She has something that’s mine and I want it back.”
“Something…?”
“Weed.”
“Okay…”
“And she wouldn't give it back to me unless I came to their fucking kose party.”
“Damn,” the guy laughed, his eyes crinkling in the most adorable way. “What kind of mob boss shit is that?”
“Right?” Isak felt a little breathless from knowing he was the reason for his mirth.
“I’m Even, by the way,” the guy said when their laughs had died down.
“Isak.”
“So um, if Sana’s still withholding your stuff…” Even said in a conspiratorial murmur, pulling a neatly rolled joint from the breast pocket of his jean jacket. “How about we share mine?”
Isak broke into a wide grin Even instantly mirrored. “Sweet!”
“Come on.” Even opened the fridge to get a couple of fresh beers. “Let’s go outside.”
They headed to the garden through the living room patio door. Isak hissed at the sudden cold of that autumn night, but didn’t make a move to go back inside and get his own jacket. They smiled and nodded at the few people that had come out there to smoke a cigarette and walked deeper into the dark garden until they found a low wall they could sit on, away from everyone. Isak wondered if Even had brought them there on purpose, if he wanted to be alone with him.
They sat close, but not quite touching, and Even lit up his blunt. The glow of the small flame illuminated his side profile golden against the black of night. Isak felt his throat go dry before he’d even had a drag.
Even exhaled a thick cloud of smoke with a content hum and turned to Isak. Held the burning joint between them and smiled when Isak took it from his fingers. They smoked for a moment in silence. It was tranquil, as if they’d done this together a hundred times before, and yet, the air between them felt almost electric.
“So how about you?” Isak asked, his voice slightly mellow with weed. “Did Sana also coerce you to come to this party?”
“I think Elias lost a bet…” Even answered. “Honestly I don’t know why he keeps making bets with Sana, she wins all the time. I think it might be his way of hiding the fact that he would do anything for her if she asked anyway,” he huffed, a soft smile on his lips. “He’s so soft with her but he’d never show it, he’s proud like that.”
“Bakkoushes, amiright?”
“Yeah,” Even laughed, bright and sparkly. Isak felt his chest warm up and expand with the melody of it, with pride of being the reason for it.
“Did you guys collectively lose that bet or…?”
“No, we just came for moral support.”
Isak only hummed in response, thinking about his own, traitorous friends who left him on his own. Although, now he was starting to think that it was maybe for the best.
“But I don’t regret coming,” Even continued.
“Oh yeah?” Isak cocked a teasing eyebrow at him. “Revue nerds’ parties are your thing?”
Even smiled and bumped their soldiers together. “I found good company.” He winked, not making a move to detach their shoulders and Isak fucking melted.
Not knowing what to say back, he just snatched the joint from Even’s hand with a weak, huffing laugh. He took a way too long drag and instantly choked out on the smoke when he swallowed it. Through his coughing fit, he could hear Even laugh again, soft and teasing. Then, Even’s hand on his back, gently patting him until he found his breath again.
“You okay?” Even asked, running his hand up and down Isak’s back, sending shivers down his spine.
“Yeah,” Isak breathed out, low and raspy.
Even smiled, his hand coming to rest at the collar of Isak’s tee-shirt, his thumb brushing his neck, burning his cool skin.
*
Isak had never seen Even before that night, but then, they kept meeting again. He and his friends started to hangout more with the girls after that party, Isak suspected because one of them seemed to have a huge — reciprocated — crush on Sana. Then his own friends met them and soon, going out and spending time all together had become a new normal.
These guys were cool and friendly, and Isak genuinely enjoyed hanging out with them. He was genuinely glad that their friends groups had sort of merged together in one big joyous mess.
And then of course, there was Even.
Even who made his heart bolt with only a simple look his way; who laughed at his stupid jokes like they were the funniest thing in the world. Even who always caught his gaze amidst loud conversations and smiled at him like they were secretly having their own, private one. Who lit his body on fire with the most casual touches, and God was Even generous with them. Always reaching for him, or so Isak felt. Hoped.
Just like they did at that party, they always seemed to gravitate toward each other whenever they all met. Isak was very aware of the pull he felt toward Even, and each time they ended up together, sitting next to each other, wandering away from the group or lost in their own conversation, he wondered if Even felt it too.
He was almost sure of it, but then…
Even showed up one day with a girl he introduced as Sonja, his girlfriend. She was beautiful and sweet, smiling brightly as she gushed about how happy she was to finally meet the whole Nissen gang after hearing so much about them.
Everyone loved her, and Isak felt his heart crack.
That day, he avoided Even as much as he could, but whenever he’d accidentally caught his gaze, unable to look away from him completely, Isak thought he looked almost sad, even guilty.
The next time they were all supposed to meet, he gave some bullshit excuse to stay home. As painful as it was to stay away, he told himself it was for the best. That he just couldn’t go through the whole "secretly falling for a straight boy in a relationship” again. This time he’d be strong, put distance between them. Forget about the guy.
But all it took was a text from Even, a simple “hey, missed you last night” under the stupid meme he’d last sent him, for Isak’s resolve to crumble.
When they met again, Sonja was not there and Even smiled at him when he arrived as if he hadn't seen Isak in months. Hugged him like he really did miss him. Like he felt it too, that pull that Isak couldn’t resist.
Then, Even and Sonja broke up, but Isak didn't even have time to be selfishly happy about it; to try and explore what he was so certain was there, between them. Because not long after that, Even announced that he was leaving.
Leaving Oslo, leaving Norway. Leaving Isak, and everyone else.
He had been scouted on a street casting as he was strolling around Sentrum on a Saturday afternoon.
An American casting team was looking for a Scandinavian guy for a film. A fresh, new face. He had to be young and handsome and he had to look regal. To look like a prince. Of course they found Even and fell in love with him at first sight.
How could they not?
Even made a few screen tests and that was it; he was leaving for Hollywood to be the lead in a new romantic comedy.
When he told everyone about it, Isak couldn’t help feeling heartbroken, but deep down, he was mostly, truly happy for him. For as long as he’d known Even, he knew that working in the film industry was his life long dream.
And as Even kept telling them all, he’d be back soon.
He kept telling them that the night they all got together at Even’s parents home for his farewell party and Isak's spirits got a little heavier every time, his eyes dangerously blurry.
Isak retreated to the empty kitchen to drink a glass of water; to catch his breath and try to ease the knot in his throat. As he put the empty glass down in the sink, he heard steps behind him, coming into the kitchen.
“So that’s where you’ve been hiding?” Even didn’t actually sound surprised to find him there, and Isak wondered if he’d seen him head over to the kitchen and followed.
“I wasn’t hiding,” he scoffed. Even’s sly smile told Isak he didn’t buy it.
Even walked closer, nodding a low, disbelieving hum. He came to lean against the counter next to Isak but didn’t say more, the atmosphere suddenly too serious for their usual playful and easy banter.
Silent stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable.
“So you're really leaving, huh?” Isak felt tears well up in his eyes.
“Yeah.” Even smiled, soft and slightly sad. He turned his body to face Isak, took a step closer. “Are you gonna miss me?”
Isak scoffed, rolled his eyes at Even’s ridiculous question and the tears almost spilled out. He looked down at his own feet, willed the tears back. “You know I'm gonna miss you.”
Another step, and Even’s socked feet were almost touching his own. He lifted his hand, reaching for Isak like he’d always felt Even wanted to, let it rest on his hip. “I’ll miss you too, Isak.”
Isak looked up at the way Even said his name, his voice tender and a little rough. His lips were still parted, his gaze searching, asking. Isak lifted his chin in answer and felt Even’s hold tighten on his hip, his breath caress his lips when he leaned in to—
“Oi, Even!” Michael’s voice rang from the corridor, followed by a laugh, probably Mutta’s.
Isak jumped and turned away from Even when they stepped into the kitchen. He’d been so close to finally getting what he wanted so badly, but deep down, he was still afraid. No one knew and he wasn’t ready for them to find out, or at least not like that.
He could hear the boys talking next to him but he could make out what they said, blood rushing to his ears with the loud beating of his heart.
When he looked back at Even, he saw him like frozen in place, his mouth opened in surprise and with the promise of the kiss he was about to give him. Isak was so frustrated, at Even’s friends for stopping them, at himself for still letting his fears overpowering him and denying him this — he felt he could have fucking cried.
He wondered how Even felt. If he was as frustrated with him, disappointed, if he’d vexed him by tearing himself away from him like that. But Even’s gaze was soft, understanding, and even though they couldn’t talk at that moment, Isak felt it seemed to say, it’s okay, I get it.
Then, Even shot him a small, half smile as his friends dragged him back to his own party.
Isak knew he would regret that kiss every day that Even would be gone, he felt it already deep in his bones, but at the same time, he figured it was probably for the best.
Because he had the feeling — no, he knew — that this thing between him and Even would be big, important. More than a crush, a simple fling. And it would have been unbearable to only get a kiss — only a glimpse of it, a taste of him — before Even would leave for who knew how long.
It would happen. Isak just had to wait, and he was willing to.
*
Even flew halfway across the globe and Isak watched his life being turned upside down from afar.
They exchanged some texts the first few weeks, nothing about what had happened before Even left, though. Even told him about his new life in L.A., entirely devoted to shooting the film, and Isak gave him some news from back home. These messages quickly became more sparse and soon enough Isak only got news from Even on the rare occasion he met the guys from Bakka. As everyone moved on with their lives, with jobs and uni, they got together less and less and Even seemed to slip even further away.
Then, the film finally came out.
Isak would probably never have seen it if it weren’t for Even starring in it. It was a stupid, mushy romantic comedy, the story of a young Norwegian student that came to America to study in a prestigious university. There, he met a girl; they seemed to have nothing in common but unsurprisingly fell madly in love with each other. It all seemed perfect until she started to talk about their possible future together and he had to reveal the big secret he had been keeping from her. He couldn’t stay in America, nor take her back home with him. He was the crown Prince of Norway and would begin to assume his royal responsibilities once he’d be back, starting with getting engaged with the girl his parents had chosen for him since he was a teenager. Of course because it was Hollywood, the film ended with a tear-jerker of a happy ending, love winning against all odds.
The movie was a hit, and it made Even a star overnight on the other side of the Atlantic.
Back in Norway, everyone was obsessed with him as well, so proud of this guy from Oslo no one had heard of before suddenly becoming Hollywood’s new heartthrob.
The whole gang got together to see the film, taking group pics and videos at the theater to send Even before the light went out.
Isak watched Even’s face appear on the big screen, his heart pounding. He felt like he’d held his breath throughout the whole film; so overwhelmed to see Even again, to hear him. A huge, happy smile broke across his cheeks as Even’s name filled the screen at the end when the credits rolled and the whole gang erupted in loud cheering.
A few days later, he returned to the cinema alone, and then again the following week. Then, he downloaded the film and watched him in the secrecy of his bedroom, again and again until he knew all of Even’s lines by heart, every intonation of his voice, every intake of breath and curve of his lips.
Fuck, it was ridiculous how many times he watched that damn movie. Wishing it was him Even was kissing in pouring rain, promising his everlasting love to. He knew it was stupid and over the top cliché, but he didn’t care. Because it was him.
Meanwhile, Even was swept up in the whirlwind of his sudden fame.
Everybody wanted a piece of that new, Scandinavian sensation. He was everywhere, invited on talk shows, charming every host with his easy warmth and his “exotic” accent, at movie premieres and on the front row of fashion shows, at exclusive Hollywood parties…
He was chosen by a big fashion brand to be the face of their new campaign. The pictures were gorgeous, Even as natural and magnetic when he modeled as he had been on film. Isak had saved all these pictures, losing himself in Even’s intense gaze, caressing the soft curve of his lips with a brush of his finger on his screen.
He read every magazine article about Even. Some quickly hinted at a sequel that might already have been in preparation, which made Isak both happy for Even and his success and worried it would keep him away from Oslo for another long while.
With Even’s fame also came the gossip and stolen pictures. Rumours of him dating his co-star were confirmed when they were photographed kissing and holding hands outside a restaurant. Isak was more furious at these paparazzi for invading Even’s private life like that than he was hurt seeing him with someone else. Of course he was jealous, but he and Even had made no promises to each other. They couldn't be together yet but it didn’t mean they couldn’t be with anyone at all.
Isak started dating for real as well, came out to his friends and started seeing guys, hooking up.
He and Even felt inevitable, but he had no idea when that would happen, and neither of them were monks. It hurt a little, but it was fine. It would be fine.
Even and his co-star eventually broke up.
Then there was a model. And another. All looking more perfectly beautiful at his arm than the last.
There were also more parties.
All sounding wilder than the last.
Rumours of drinking, maybe even drugs. Wild behaviours.
There was a fight in a bar that Even had supposedly started. Some said he’d left a party at Château Marmont butt naked but that was either a lie or thankfully he was gone before someone could take pictures of him.
It all sounded like bullshit, Isak thought, even though he couldn’t help reading everything that came out about Even.
Hollywood realised that its charming Scandinavian heartthrob maybe wasn't so perfect after all. Discussions of a sequel died down and soon, a new TV series and its leads quickly became the new thing everyone talked about, taking the focus off Even and his escapades.
No one really heard about Even for a while after that.
Until a new rumour started to spread.
Even was coming back to Oslo.
So, no, tonight Isak doesn’t care about being crammed into the corner of a jam-packed living room around people he doesn’t even know for the most part; he doesn’t care about the uncomfortable fitted shirt Eskild insisted he wore because it was NYE and he “should make an effort”.
Because the moment he’s been waiting for since what feels like forever now is finally coming.
The murmur in the crowd suddenly becomes louder, heads turning in the same direction.
Even is here.
Isak watches him walk into the party, all bright smiles and easy confidence. He looks even more beautiful than in Isak’s memories, or maybe they just could never make him justice. He stands a little less lanky, his body fuller and maybe still holding the royal posture he’d been trained to adopt for the film. His skin is not as fair as it used to be in the midst of the Norwegian winter, but kissed by the golden warmth of the Californian sun.
He stands there, looking like a movie star as people instantly swarm around him. Because that’s exactly what he is. A fucking movie star.
Isak watches Even greet everyone who comes up to him with grace, old friends and new fans alike. Ida, the girl hosting the party, hangs on to his arm like she owns him, smiling proudly as the both of them stand in the center of everyone’s attention.
Isak doesn't think Even’s seen him yet and he doesn’t try to approach him either. Not yet. He can let them all have their fill of him first. Can let her flirt with him all she wants, clinging to his side in her tight, sequin dress and giggling at every word he says.
He’s been waiting for a while now, and he can wait some more until it feels right. Until he can steal Even from them all and have him for himself.
He has a joint rolled in the breast pocket of his shirt, right where his heart is beating hard; determined to give Even the two things he owes him: the weed Even shared with him the night they met, and the kiss he meant to give him the night they parted.
The night goes on, until the moment finally comes.
Isak is on his way to get something to drink in the kitchen and suddenly Even is there, on his own, standing in front of him at the other end of the corridor.
Isak feels his heart race, and he thinks Even looks somewhat a little stunned to see him too. Maybe he didn’t know Isak was going to be at that party. He takes a step closer to Even and as he opens his mouth about to just say hi, Isak notices Even tensing up, frowning and looking awkwardly around him. Then, before Isak can say or do anything, Even swiftly turns around and walks away from him.
It all happens in an instant and leaves Isak confused and… hurt.
What happened there? Did Even not recognize him? Isak is sure that he did, he looked like he did and it’s not like they haven’t seen each other in ten years, like Isak has changed that much since Even left. And even if he didn’t recognize him, Even has spent the whole evening chatting with people he’s just met as if they were the best friends in the world, so why would he avoid him?
No, it’s obvious that Even knew who he was, and that he had no desire to run into him.
Isak doesn’t understand and now feels his heart begin to shatter at the thought of Even running away from him.
He makes his way to the kitchen like he meant to like in a daze. He opens a beer, takes a swig, but decides he needs something stronger. Finds a half full bottle of vodka on the counter and drinks straight from it. It’s cheap, tastes disgusting and feels harsh in his throat when he swallows. Makes his already dizzy head turn even faster.
Did he imagine everything back then? Isak ponders as he takes another gulp.
Did he completely delude himself thinking there was something between him and Even? Was he the only one feeling it, that pull? But even if it was the case, even if Even wasn’t into him in the same way that Isak was, at least weren’t they supposed to be friends? Kind of?
Had Isak been so fucking blind not to understand that what he felt was not only completely one sided, but also that it might have made Even uncomfortable enough for him to now want to avoid the guy who used to have a crush on him? Had he been so unable to take a fucking hint?
But then why would Even have tried to kiss him that night, Isak remembers, pressing the neck of the bottle against his lips to take another long swig. Because he had tried to kiss him, Isak didn’t imagine that. Had it been out of pity? A little kiss goodbye so that Isak might finally move on.
How fucking pathetic. How humiliating.
He drinks again, swallows the sobs building in his throat along with the alcohol. He doesn’t even know what’s in that bottle anymore, only that it burns his lips and tastes bitter on his tongue. Only that it makes his head spin and numbs his heart ache just a tiny bit. Just for a second.
“Since when do you drink vodka?” Jonas walks into the kitchen, frowning at the mostly empty bottle in Isak’s hand.
He gets himself a can of beer and comes to lean next to him against the kitchen counter.
“I don’t.” Isak shrugs, putting it away.
“Okay,” Jonas snorts as he cracks open his beer. “What’you doing here?”
“Nothing.”
They’re quiet for a moment, as people come and go around them, getting drinks and snacks before getting back to the party, snippets of their conversation getting lost in the distant, booming music as they walk away.
“Hey, you talked to Even yet?”
“No,” Isak snaps. “Why would I want to talk to Even?”
“Everyone wants to talk to him, it’s been a while.” Jonas shrugs. “And I mean he’s a movie star now, that’s pretty cool.”
“A movie star…” Isak winces at the contempt in his voice. “He’s a fucking wannabe, that’s what he is. He made one film and it was shit. And after that he did what? A fucking modeling gig.” Isak scoffs. “Being hot is pretty much the only thing he has going for him, that’s how he got that role in the first place.”
“Oh wow,” Jonas huffs out a small, awkward laugh. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” Isak retorts. “I just don’t get why everyone’s obsessed with him, that's all.”
“We’re just happy for him. I thought you’d be too.” Jonas pauses. “I mean, I thought you guys were friends?”
Isak never told Jonas what happened, or didn't happen, between him and Even, even after he came out. Now he’s glad he hasn't. How could he tell him that it had basically been all in his head and that now Even wouldn't even give him the time of day?
“We weren’t friends.” Isak shakes his head, clears his throat when he feels it constrict again. “I don’t know him. Honestly I just don’t really care.”
“Oi!” Jonas protests when Isak snatches his beer from his hand.
Isak lifts the can to his smirking lips. The beer is softer than the liquor he was drinking just before but still adds to the buzzing he feels under his skin, in his head.
Jonas studies him for a moment, something mischievous in his eyes, the corner of his mouth curling in a smirk. Isak knows he’s gonna regret it, but still asks, “What?”
“You think he’s hot though.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
Isak pushes himself off the counter and leaves the kitchen, Jonas’ obnoxious laugh resounding behind him. But almost right as he walks out, he crashes into someone, spilling the content of his can of Ringnes on their shirt.
“Oh shit! I’m–” Isak freezes when he realises who he just collided with.
“For fuck’s sake!” Even spats, furiously wiping the big beer stain on his clothes.
“Sorry…”
“Right,” Even scoffs.
“The fuck, dude,” Isak shakes his head at him. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.”
“Oh no?” Even levels him with a hard, annoyed stare.
He seems so frustrated at Isak, so mad at him over a simple, small accident. He seems to think that Isak is intent on wronging him in some way for whatever reason and it doesn’t make any sense. He’s the one who couldn’t stand the sight of him, the one who seemed to have such an issue with Isak he couldn’t even say hello and preferred to walk away when he saw him after all this time.
Isak is the one with a reason to be mad at him, not the other way around.
“No, dude, I didn’t. Get off your fucking high horse…”
“You’re not the one who’s gonna spend the rest of the night reeking of booze… My shirt’s fucking ruined.”
“It’s just a little beer.” Isak rolls his eyes, which only seems to rile Even up more. “Don’t be so fucking–”
“Even! I was looking for you…” Ida stops their bickering, raising her eyebrows when she sees the state of Even. “What happened to you?
“Nothing, it’s fine.” Even turns on his flashing smile at her like the professional actor he is now. So fucking fake, Isak thinks, internally rolling his eyes. “What’s up?”
“It’s almost midnight, didn’t want you to miss the countdown.” She smiles coyly, before looking between the two of them as if she suddenly remembered that Isak was still standing there. “But um, did I interrupt, or…?”
“No,” Even answers curtly. “We’re done.”
“Cool.” She beams, taking Even’s hand in her own. “Come on.”
She pulls him behind her, towards where the heart of the party is in full swing. Even follows her without casting another glance Isak’s way. Isak, who stays there watching them go. Stunned as if he’d been slapped in the face.
A few minutes pass that seem to last forever. Isak comes to when the music is turned even louder, voices shouting from the living room.
“Ten! Nine!”
He walks to where the joyous racket comes from.
“Eight! Seven! Six!”
Elbows his way through the packed lobby to get there, not sure why when he’s in no desire to fucking celebrate.
“Five! Four!”
People are throwing their arms up in the air with the tempo of the countdown; they all have drinks in their hands, some wear silly, pointy hats on their heads.
“Three! Two! One!”
They’re not difficult to spot in the middle of the crowd counting down the final seconds of the year, her in her glistening sequin dress, him standing taller than everyone around him.
“Happy New Year!!”
Glasses clink against one another, golden streamers fly across the room, people cheer.
And Even leans down to press his lips against hers.
Even kisses her and Isak watches, his heart breaking in his chest while around him, everyone parties to the new year. To new beginnings.
Everyone cheers and laughs, but Isak — Isak wants to fucking cry.
But he can’t. Not there, now, not in front of him where he could see if he’d just looked up to where Isak is standing, watching him. Them, together.
So he leaves. He walks away as fast as he can through the crowd, shaking off the hands trying to grab him, to hug him or try to hold him back at the party.
Outside, the black sky is lit up with fireworks shot from every garden and rooftop in the city, music and voices from all the parties in the neighbourhood blend together in one huge bash Isak isn’t a part of.
The night is freezing cold, but Isak decides to walk all the way home. Needs to clear his head. As he begins to sober up, he replays the scenario he had imagined again and again; the way he thought this night would go.
They would have smoked that blunt still lying untouched in Isak’s pocket and decided to flee the party together before the stroke of midnight. They would have stolen someone’s bike and ridden through the night across the city, their laughs blending in the cold, salty air.
They would have kissed — finally — and watched the fireworks reflecting in the dark waters of the fjord.
They would have gone back to one of their places, made love all night and spent the next morning telling each other how much they’d missed each other again and again and again.
They would have been together, at last, and started to make up for all that lost time.
A dumb rom-com scenario.
A whole freaking love story, made up from a kiss that never happened, a friendship that wasn’t even real, a pull he was alone to feel.
Had he been so desperate, so yearning for someone to share his true desires that he had taken the warmth and kindness of a guy that was openly pan for interest? For love even?
How could he have been so stupid?