Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ages 5 and 7

It was a Wednesday when he first saw him. Isak thought he looked like one of his mama’s angels. The kinds that live in God’s love. He didn’t know they could be little boys too. He tugged his papa’s trouser leg, pointing at the angel. He was pushed in his direction, a tired ‘just go say hi, Isak’ echoing behind him.

He’s not an angel.

Or, that’s what he says when Isak asks him what God’s like in person. Isak doesn’t really believe him, though. His name is Even, and he just moved to house next to Isak’s. He talks a little funny, but Isak thinks it’s because he’s from heaven.

“You’re very pretty, Isak.” And Isak frowns. Because pretty is for girls. His hair might be long but he’s not a girl. His mama calls him her ‘perfect boy’ every night. Maybe this angel was confused.

“I’m not pretty. I’m a boy, silly.” Even smiles big and bright and Isak is positive he’s one of God’s angels.

“You’re a very pretty boy.” Isak smiles back, because he’s sure this is God answering his prayers. Mama said if he prayed every night, God will listen. And He did. He gave Isak an angel.

Mama doesn’t agree.

She says that the boy next door isn’t an angel.

“Did he tell you that, Isak? If he did, I want you to stay away from him. People who call themselves angels are demons sent by Satan, baby. Don’t fall into his trap.” Isak shakes his head and uses all the words he knows to tell his mama that Even was great and couldn’t be a demon. His papa says something that he doesn’t quite understand, and then he has to run to his room because they’re shouting and Isak doesn’t like it when his parents shout.

He sleeps a little easier knowing that his angel is just next door.

Ages 11 and 13

It’s a Saturday when Isak meets his new friends. Five or six teenagers crowding his best friend. And. He’s not jealous. He’s not. Even can have friends just like he has Jonas. But the boys push him out of the group, and Even lets them. Or maybe he’s just not paying attention. Either way, Isak doesn’t like it. Isak huffs and glares but Even still doesn’t see it. He’s on his skateboard, doing that kickflipy thing that he tried to teach Isak last week. (It’s not Isak’s fault he’s sucky.)

He ends up walking home alone, tired of the mean looks and comments the older boys throw at him. Well, he tries to but Even’s calling out to him and his instincts force him to turn around.

Even’s out of breath when he reaches him. “I thought we were going to go home together.”

“Yeah, well.” It’s not an answer. But it wasn’t a question either, so.

“Why did you leave?” Isak doesn’t like it when Even looks down at him like that. His eyelashes make shadows on his cheeks, and there’s a sad edge to his words. It makes him want to do everything for Even.

He doesn’t want to tell Even that his friends are mean to him. Doesn’t want to make Even choose between him and them. Because that’s what this was. Even his eleven year old mind had that figured out. “Mom told me to be home before it got dark. And I didn’t want to interrupt so.” His hands flail around a little. It’s not technically a lie.

“You’re not sleeping over? The rest of the guys are.” And, see, he was going to. He wants to. Really. But their sleepovers are something he doesn’t even tell Jonas about. They belong to them. So, he just shrugs, and mutters something about his mom getting mad that he doesn’t spend time at home. Still not a lie. She’s been pissed for a good week about it. Still, he smiles and punches Even’s arm and tells him to stop acting like a girl and that he should chill with his friends.

Isak wakes up to his window rattling. Then a thump. Was that a rock? He gets up to investigate, sleep making his lids heavy. Standing outside his house is Even, overnight bag in hand. Quickly pulling the window open, he whisper shouts at the boy.

“What are you doing?” Even raises a shoulder and drops it, an innocent smile shining in the darkness.

“Let me in.” And he does. Because Isak is really bad at not doing what Even wants. When he’s snuck him through the front door and back into his room, Isak is awake enough to sassily cock his head to the side, hands on his hips. Even laughs and scrunches his nose.
“They were so boring. I didn’t want to hang out with them anymore, so I kicked them out.” Isak considers this. It didn’t seem like he thought they were boring back at the skate park. But Even’s here with Isak, and everything is better. He’s got his angel.

Even waits until Isak’s asleep to turn and stare at his young friend. He missed him the whole afternoon, and the sleepover sucked because Isak wasn’t there. The other boys were ok, but then they started to make fun of Isak just because his hair was still so long and he was younger than them. Even still doesn’t know how to describe how he felt then, when he punched Martin. He just knows it was the most intense thing he’s ever experienced. Physically unable to listen to them talk about Isak, his Isak like that, and his body reacted. An impressive right hook catching his ‘friend’ off guard.

Martin left with a decent back eye and the others followed. Even doesn’t really mind, though. He just wanted to be with Isak and now he is, so it’s ok. If he doesn’t have any friends left at school on Monday, he’ll be ok.

“Goodnight, pretty boy.”

Ages 6 and 8

It was a Monday when Even walked Isak to school for the first time. Isak’s mama didn’t want to wake up that morning and his papa was already at work. But Even knew how nervous Isak was. He got up early and told his own mama that he had to help Isak get ready for school. She smiled and handed him two lunch bags.

He found Isak peering into his mom’s room. And he just knew the boy was crying. He grabbed onto him and hugged him tightly. In all of his eight years, Even had never felt so much pain than in that moment. Later, as he plaited Isak’s hair and helped him get his things together, Even promised himself that he’d do anything to keep a smile on the boy’s face.

Ages 10 and 12

It’s Sundays that are the worst. There’s waking up early, something Isak despises, and then there’s church. It wouldn’t be so bad if his mother wasn’t constantly shifting between staring Isak down and feverishly mumbling prayer, rocking in her seat. The rest of the congregation looks at him with pity and Isak’s itching to leave.

Jonas texts him and that tides him over most of the time. But it’s getting to be too much. He feels like a sheep in wolf skin. He no longer believes in his mama’s God and His angels. And he feels like a fraud, listening to hymns and parables that he can’t connect with. Sermons that feel more like they’re attacking him. It’s awful, but he wants to be there for his mama and she’s at her happiest within the confines of the church.

Sometimes his mama points out a pretty girl that Isak should talk to and for a while now he’s known that when talks to the girls, he’s looking at their brothers. It settles in the pit of his stomach like poison and closes his throat when his mother mentions sin and hell. It’s even worse when he’s doing homework on Even’s floor later that night. Because he’s not really doing homework. He’s watching Even pluck his guitar and can’t stop those thoughts from infiltrating his mind. The ones that say things like beautiful and perfect and angel. It doesn’t matter that his faith in God’s angels is lost. His own angel, Even, is more than the whole heavenly host combined.

Even looks back at him, and he wonders if the intensity of his stare is imagined.

“You’re so pretty, Isak.”

“Fuck off, you can’t say things like that anymore.” It was cute when they were young. When Even used to wear dresses and Isak had hair down to his waist. Now the words feel like scissors. Snipping at the seams of his clothes. Leaving him bare. It’s a weird way to think of it, but it’s the only way he can describe the vulnerability that Even’s words bring out in him.

“Yeah I can. It’s not like you stopped being pretty just because we’re older. You’re, like, still the prettiest boy I know.” Even turns back to his guitar, like it was nothing. But it’s everything, and Isak flushes, he’s sure those words reach his soul and for the first time he lets his heart swell with love for his angel. Maybe Sundays aren’t so bad.

Ages 12 and 14

It’s a Tuesday and Even’s fourteen and he’s pretty sure his heart is broken. It’s all gone and he can’t hide the tears that sting at his eyes. The day started off like every Tuesday does. He walked Isak to school, before catching a bus to his own, the promise of another sleepover buzzing in his mind. He was so ready to kick Isak’s ass at COD.

When school lets out he heads home alone, Isak texted earlier that his mom was picking him up. Which, really it should have tipped him off, but he just shrugs it off and prepared for their night ahead.

The moment he opens his bedroom door, he doesn’t know what to think. Isak’s hair. His hair was all gone. Chopped off.

“How could you do this to me?” He knows it sounds stupid. But. That was his hair. He loved to run his fingers through the soft golden locks. Loved braiding and styling it. Loved hiding his face in it and smelling the sweet strawberry shampoo Isak used. He’d been doing it for seven years, and he wasn’t ready to stop.

“Even, I promise, I didn’t want to.” Even looks up, tear stained cheeks a blotchy red. “Mama heard some kids saying things and she made me cut it off. I know how much you liked it. Sorry.” Even’s arms wrap around Isak’s torso and he rubs his face against the rough curls cut close to his head. It feels nice. He lets his hand wander up Isak’s back, neck, and wraps his fingers in the blond mass. Still soft. Still smells like strawberries.

“Don’t have to apologize.” It’s whispered against Isak’s ear. And when Isak’s ear flushes a brilliant vermillion, Even finds that there are advantages to Isak’s new haircut. “I think I like it.”

Isak pulls himself out of Even’s hold and laughs at him. His smile is sunshine and Even can’t remember why he was so sad in the first place.

“Even, you are the gayest. Like what the fuck, dude.” It’s ok to joke now that Even smiles back at him.

“Wash that potty mouth of yours, Valtersen. And you need new friends if they use gay like that. It’s not nice, pretty boy.” He’s joking back but also not, because Isak has to know that gay is not a bad thing. It just isn’t. But now isn’t the time for it. Now, they start up the game and Even watches him. Even though he misses the boy’s beautiful golden mane, he thinks, not for the first time, Isak looks like an angel.

Ages 14 and 16

It’s a Friday when Isak wants to disappear. His parents have been fighting constantly. Or, whenever his father manages to make it home. By now, Isak knows his mother isn’t well and can’t understand why his father won’t just get her help. He feels like he’s being pulled apart, taking care of her after her episodes. And he’s not sure he can hold himself together anymore.

And Even. Well he’s not around as much now that he’s dating Sonja. He doesn’t want to think about them, or the horrible feeling it brings when he’s around them. Part guilt for hating his girlfriend, and part something else. Something nasty. Something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

So he throws himself into his friendship with Jonas. They do everything he used to with Even and most days he can forget the sting and the empty space by his side where Even should be. And then it happens all at once. Or maybe Isak just noticed it too late, but Jonas has become something to him. It’s not love. No. Isak knows what love feels like. But it’s not as simple as infatuation. Jonas smiles at him like he’s hung the stars and that feels good. When Jonas calls him his brother, early in the morning, after too many shots from his parents’ stash, Isak is over the moon. Even may not be here, but Isak has a person and it’s ok. He’s not Isak’s angel, but maybe it’s time to let go of that. Even is just a person. And it’s not fair that Isak put him on such a high pedestal. It’s ok.

(But it’s not and Isak is still unsure about most things. Letting Even go, letting him live, that’s the one thing he doesn’t regret. Because the longer they go without contact, the stronger Isak’s resolve to leave Even alone becomes. And he’s convinced that his memories are tainted with his one-sided feelings. Even probably didn’t like him all that much.)

Ages 17 and 19

They haven’t really talked. Like. It’s been two years since they last hung out properly. So, when he gets the text on a Wednesday, he doesn’t check his phone until it’s almost too late. If he still lived at home, he probably would have seen the van pulling up in front of the house. But he doesn’t and he didn’t.

By the time he’s read the text, it’s almost sundown and his heart is beating out of his chest. He grabs his bike, and prays for the first time in years.

He makes it. Barely.

Even’s putting a box in the open moving van, broad back facing Isak.

“Hi.” His voice is quiet, but carries across the silence of the evening. Even’s posture changes, back rigid.

“Didn’t think you would come.” He’s been crying.

“Nah, just didn’t check my phone.” Even nods, but still hasn’t turned around. “So, uh, this is it?” Isak rubs his eyes, fighting back tears of his own.
“Did you hear about it?”

“About what?” He’s genuinely confused. Even’s leaving and he wants to catch up on gossip?

“I went batshit at school. They’re calling me fucking nuts.” The words are all jagged edges and a humorless chuckle follows. Isak is sure that hollow sound is going to haunt him. Why won’t he just turn around?

“No. I haven’t.” He hasn’t and doesn’t really care. Even is leaving. Isak’s walked so close to him, he can see his body tremble. It’s pure instinct when he presses his chest against Even’s back, and it’s pure love when his hands rest on Even’s chest. “Should have told me earlier.”

“We weren’t talking.”

“Still would have come running. You’re still Even.” My Even, his brain supplies.

“Kinda wish I called you. Kinda wish I did a lot of things. With you.” There’s a lump in his throat, and he can’t help but mourn what could have been.

“How’s Sonja dealing with it.” He tries to change the subject but he must have hit a nerve.

“Don’t wanna talk about her.” Finally, he turns in Isak’s arms and buries his face in Isak’s hair.

“Still strawberry, huh?” They let their hands roam each other's’ backs, not really caring about how it looks. “Isak, I know it’s the worst time to say it, but I - “

“Even, we can’t wait any longer. We need to leave now.” They pull apart slowly, and take each other in.

“What were you saying?”

“Nothing, pretty boy. I missed you. I’m just glad I could say goodbye.”

It feels wrong. And it hurts. But Isak is just 17 and he has no control. So he’s strong for a few more minutes, and only when the truck disappears from view, does he let his sobs bring his body to the ground. Even is gone and it’s not like before, where he can silently stalk Sonja on Facebook to make sure he’s doing ok. Now he’s gone and Isak is breaking. It just confirms that there’s no God. No angels. And as he breaks on the street, a warm pair of arms wrap around him and he smells her before he feels her touch. Lavender and honey. And warm bread.

“I miss them too.” It’s the most lucid he’s ever heard her. Turning in her arms, he lets his head rest against her stomach.

“Mama.” He breathes, before crying even harder.

Ages 13 and 15

He meets Sonja on a Tuesday. She’s pretty, he supposes. Not like the models he has plastered on his walls, but not a total troll either. She’s got a good smile. And nice hair. She looks at Even a lot. And that’s...good. She’s his girlfriend.

He’s not entirely sure why she makes him kind of mad. Well. Not mad. But everything she says annoys him and he can’t help but roll his eyes every time she latches onto Even’s arm. There’s a part of him that says take that, bitch, when Even introduces him as the “most important person in his life.” It’s that sick, twisted part in him that revels in the little frown she tries to hide when he says that.

But then she’s wormed her way into their time. She’s always there when they hang out, and Isak can’t be himself around her. Even doesn’t really notice, because he’s too busy eating her face. The times they do get around to talking, the conversation is stilted and awkward. Isak doesn't know how to tell him that this isn't working. That Isak can't be real with her around, because then she'll see. She'll see how he feels and then she'll take Even away from him. And he won't be able to handle that.

So he lets their friendship kind of fizz out. Because then he's the one who ends it. It's passive aggressive as fuck but he's the king of non confrontational arguments. He stops making an effort to hang out with Even, and unsurprisingly, Even doesn't really ask him anymore. They manage to text sometimes. An odd wazzzzaap here and there (Isak prides himself on being well educated in old meme culture.) But even that ends eventually.

And of course, when Isak hasn't seen or heard from Even in months is when his family goes to shit. His mama's gone insane. Psycho. She's throwing things. Yelling at things. Everyone's going to hell. Isak's sure that if hell was real, this would be it. He barely notices the long, jagged cut running down his arm. Or the blood dripping out of it. He barely feels anything except for the pure adrenaline coursing through him.

His papa comes home and everything goes silent. Slows down. Like a scene in a movie that Isak’s never watched. He can see his mama scream and it’s all jumpy frames and spit flying from her mouth. He sees his papa run towards him at half speed, and when he’s pushed out of the house, it still feels like he’s outside of his body, watching it all unfold.

Then the movie’s over and he’s outside and it’s dark. There are muffled shrieks coming from behind the door to his house. It’s freezing. His legs carry him to brightly lit streets, and if his vision wasn’t blurred with unshed tears, he’d have noticed where he ended up.

It’s a bar. There’s alcohol and nothing else matters. Not his stinging arm or throbbing head. Money is money where the bartender is concerned, so he has no problem refilling shot after shot until Isak’s smiling and bobbing his head to the music.

“Isakyaki? That you?” There’s three concerned looking men standing over him, and he wonders if his instagram has gone viral for a minute? Are they triplets? They look awfully similar.

“Nope. Only child. You seem a little too young to be this drunk.”

“I’m however old you want me to be.” Liquid courage turns Isak into those suave boys from Even’s movies. He’s Danny fucking Zucko. He lets his hand hang between them. “Isak.” And oh right. “But you knew that.”

It’s a weird laugh that follows. Concerned. “I’m Eskild. Noora’s flatmate?” Recognition colours Isak’s face and he leans forward to drape himself over the now singular version of the man.

“Let’s dance.’ He’s terrible at dancing, but the world is Isak’s right now. Family life be damned.

“How about I take you back to my place instead. Sober up a little.” That’s a pretty good idea.

Ages 18 and 20

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll be alright.” He’s crying a little, but his mama looks at him with all of the love in the world and he wonders how he could have left her behind. How he could ignore her.

He spent the last year taking care of her. Finally, stepping up and getting her the help his father denied she needed. But he’s going off to university soon and he wasn’t going to be around as much.

They talked about it a lot. She even picked the place. He was as supportive as he could be but felt like he was betraying her. That’s his mama, and he’s just going to leave her in that place.

“Isak, let me go, sweetheart.” She held his face and kissed his forehead before continuing. “Listen, my precious, perfect boy. You are going to school. You’re going to do well. When you have some free time, you’re going to come visit. We’ll talk on the phone. You can even send me those funny pictures on the internet. And when you find a boyfriend, you’re going to bring him to meet me. It’s all going to be ok.” His heart breaks and mends and feels whole. He loved his mama and she loved him right back. It was going to be ok.

“Try not to get in trouble, mama.”

The sound of her laughter made him so warm.

“No promises. Take me away, boys.” She grabbed the worker’s hand and let herself be led into her room. “Love you, baby.”

It was going be ok.

Ages 22 and 24

It’s Wednesday in London. Well, it would be Wednesday in Oslo too, but Isak isn’t home right now. He’s travelling to ‘clear his mind before real life starts.’ That’s what Eva called it when she handed him the tickets on his birthday, at least. And, ok, he gets it. He’s had it rough, especially after getting dumped right after his graduation ceremony, but really? Sending him to London?

He supposes it’s a nice gesture, and he’s more grateful than he lets on. It’s just. Petter was really good to him. He’s pretty sure that he didn’t deserve a good guy like him. Not when he’s still hung up in a guy he knew when he was a kid. And really, he could see it coming for weeks, but it still fucking hurt. Like. A lot.

So now he’s eating a mediocre sandwich in the closest pub to his hotel, no boyfriend in tow. It could be worse, Isak muses. He could still be a troubled, closeted mess. Too afraid of his own truth to be real. He’s a lot better now. Still emotionally constipated but, he’s out. Which is cool. And now there’s a full Javi, Erik and Petter behind him, so he’s a wonderfully experienced gay. Knows what he likes and how to navigate through the complexities of men. Really he has nothing to complain about.

Except. The weight of his loneliness is hitting him hard. Especially here in a country where he knows no one. The language seems much more menacing without someone by his side. In moments like these, where he feels so utterly alone, Isak allows himself to think about him. Lets himself remember, and wonder what could have been. If only he stayed. If only he texted. If only.

It’s a draining train of thought, but it’s the only constant he has. Everything changes. He’s not a student anymore, and he’ll never be able to swing by Sana’s table at the library again. Or study with Mahdi. Or fall asleep next to Petter. That’s all done but Even remains. The love and heartbreak. It’s still there. Waiting to be dealt with like a normal, mature person. But Isak is weak, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. So it sits there, neatly filed away in the back of his mind, only to be brought out, rifled through and put back again.

“- Valtersen? Is that you?” He’s been chewing the same bite for fifteen minutes, so really, it’s no surprise that he only just registers the voice in front of him.

“Oh shit, Elias?” The man standing before him barely resembles the boy he once resented. His body filled out nicely, and though Isak is wary of his reaction, he lets his eyes wander before settling on the handsome face.

“Never thought I’d see you again.” There’s that wolfish grin that used to bother him, but now it’s a welcome distraction. Apparently his silence is taken as an invitation to sit, and Elias seems very comfortable with their one sided conversation.

“Um, yeah. Me neither.” What is someone supposed to say to their childhood tormentor? Isak’s put it all far behind him but it’s still weird.

“So where’s Even? He was always around you, like, all the time. I swear, I thought you’d be married by now.” There isn’t a hint of malice in his tone, but the words are still jarring.

“Is that supposed to be a gay joke?” He can’t help that his eyes narrow into barely visible slits, accusation heavy in his voice.

“Oh, god, no. Sorry about all that, by the way. I was pretty shitty back then. I meant to apologize sooner, but life sort of happened.” His hand gestures lamely, but the sincerity is clear.

There’s a lump in his throat, and he didn’t know he needed to hear this. “You, uh, weren’t wrong. About me, I mean. I’m gay. But no Even. Haven’t seen him for a long time.” Elias’ grin stretches impossibly wider, before dimming again.

“That’s really great to hear, man. But really? You guys just seemed to love each other so -”

The snort is an involuntary reaction. “We grew up together. It was like. Just a really close friendship. For him.” It’s a bitter whisper that he wishes he never let slip.

“What was it like for you?” He’s leaning in and looking at Isak in a way that makes him uncomfortable. The intensity shaking him up a little. The entire situation is just too surreal for Isak. But the compulsion to answer is too strong.

“It was everything to me. He was. Is. Feels kind of pathetic, saying it out loud. Can you believe it’s been five years since I’ve seen him? And the last time I saw him, we hadn’t spoken in two years? Christ. I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.” Elias is already gesturing for drinks, and Isak is grateful for the surprising company. He’s not invested enough to be called a friend, but not a total stranger either, and it’s perfect.

He has two more pints before he can continue.

“She was always there, you know? Like,” his arms wave slightly before settling back on the table. “Hovering. He never acknowledged it or anything. Felt like a fucking side piece, even though I was just his friend. And I just wanted to kiss him. Just once. To know what it was like.”

“Fuck, man. I get it. There was this one person. I kept saying all the wrong things. And like. I was shitty. And I knew they were into someone else, and the other guy was around them all the time. But whenever I tried to make a move the dude got up in my face. I thought they were together so I was a shit to both of them.” They’re both hammered, but it felt good to let go. Maybe this was the release from Even that he needs. Finally clearing out that folder. Closing the book. New chapter, all that jazz.

So he looks at Elias through his lashes, a suggestive smile that he knows works wonders on everyone. He wonders if he’s read the situation wrong, but tries anyway.

“Fuck them.” Elias’ expression sobers, before pulling Isak close, crashing their mouths together.

Ages 12 and 14

It’s Monday when Isak decides he’s just going to transfer.

He doesn’t.

With Even at another school, Jonas was really the only person Isak could rely on. He had been since elementary school, when Jonas was the only boy who didn’t make fun of his Power Rangers lunch box. Isak thought his Captain America one was pretty cool too.

But Jonas had other friends. He would spend a lot of time with Isak, but a lot of the time it was shared with other boys. Jonas especially liked an older boy, Elias. He wasn’t fond of the boy, but Jonas liked him, so he made it work.

Elias seemed ok at first. He looked at Isak a lot, but most kids did. It was the hair. Even loved it, though, so Isak thought it was worth it. Elias scared him a little, though. He never looked Isak in the eye, or spoke to him directly. He always had a mean smile, and then he started saying things.

It wasn’t too bad in the beginning. A little teasing here and there. Really, it meant nothing at all. But after the day they all hung out with Even, it got so much worse. The word ‘fag’ got tossed around a lot. Elias became physical with him too. Pushing him around, tripping him. Nothing he could get in trouble for, but the constant abuse took its toll on Isak. Even found out one night, when he came over and Isak was crying. Even held him for a long time. And the promise of taking care of things tomorrow, meant that Isak could stop being sad and play video games again.

Apparently taking care of things meant almost starting a brawl with Elias and his thuggish friends. Isak had to pull Even away from them all, smacking the back of his head when he wouldn’t budge.

“Even, what the fuck?” They were in Isak’s room, chests heaving from the intense emotions.

“I don’t want you going near him.”

“I think I can decide who I want to hang out with on my own, thanks.” He didn’t know why he was being so snippy, but he just didn’t like that Even got so scary. He could have hurt himself. It was a stupid thing to do, and Isak was pissed.

Even finally relaxed, body sagging against Isak’s. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He wrapped his arms around Isak, and pressed little kisses into Isak’s hair. “Just want you safe, pretty boy. He’s not a good guy.”

“I know.” Isak let his face burrow into Even’s chest, feeling safe and warm there. “Thank you.”

When they fall asleep, still holding each other, Isak thinks it’ll be ok.

(And it is. Elias backs off. Still looks at Isak funny, but there are no comments, no rude gestures.)

Ages 22 and 24

It’s still Wednesday when Isak wakes up in an unfamiliar room, an arm securing him to a toned chest. Elias.

Moving to get up, the arm tightens and a groan rumbles through him. “No.” The grumpy tone makes Isak laugh, and settles back down, drawing patterns into Elias’ stomach.

“I thought you were going to show me London’s wild night life.” He’s getting up again, and this time he lets him. Straddling the man’s waist, Isak takes a good look at the soft expression on his face. He still can’t quite believe how this happened. Elias confessing what he really felt back then. The incredible sex. It’s weird. But good weird.

His hands run up and down Isak’s thighs, ghosting over his stomach, and back down again. “You know, talking’s fun and all, but there’s this really hot guy I used to have a huge thing for and I kinda want to get in him, if you don’t mind.” He’s flipping Isak over, and pressing hot kisses into his neck.

“By all means, go ahead.” The teasing lilt in his voice just spurs him on, and all conversation is forgotten when he’s biting his pulse point.

When they finally make it out of the apartment, Elias still can’t keep his hands off him. Isak lets him, because here’s a handsome boy who likes him, and while they both know it’s not going anywhere, it feels too good to stop.

The club he takes him to is like every club Isak’s been to. Loud music, sloppy drunks, dancing. It’s hardly remarkable, but pretends to be impressed, and grinds back into Elias with a half buzzed grin.

He sees something then. Someone. A someone he’s never wanted to see less and more in his life. For a moment he thinks Elias slipped something in his drink. This had to be a hallucination. There’s no way he could be here.

And yet. There he stands. Still as ethereal, as angelic as the last time he saw him. He hasn’t seen Isak yet, but knowing he’s here makes him want to hold onto him and never let go and run far, far away at the same time. Elias is saying something to him, but the words don’t reach him. He can’t tear his eyes away from the man he never learned how to stop loving.

“Isak,” Elias’ tone is dark and maybe he should be afraid. “Let’s get out of here.” Surely he’s seen him too. There’s a possessive sting to his grip on Isak’s hips, so he tears himself out of it.

“I don’t - I need - I have to talk to him.” Elias closes his eyes, and nods once. When his gaze falls back on Isak, he smiles tightly.

“I thought so.” He turns to leave, but Isak stops him.

“I never said you had to go. Come with me. I need all the support I can get.” He means it. There’s no way Isak can do this alone, and he’s terrified, but the shots of whatever it was are coursing through his veins and he’s ready to do something very stupid.

Elias drapes his arm across Isak’s shoulders and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. It’s a little cute, though.

Even hasn’t changed much. His face is still open and expressive. His eyes still crinkle when he smiles. There are a few more lines and a lot less hair gel, but he’s still beautiful.

He’s too caught up in his conversation, hands gesticulating wildly, to notice them making their way over.

“Hey, Even.” He doesn’t know how he’s managed to keep his voice strong and easy. Because now he’s in front of him, Isak wants the ground to swallow him whole. He looks even better up close.

Even’s whole body goes rigid before turning to look at them. His eyes trace Isak’s face, mouth frozen mid-word. He spots Elias’ arm hanging off him, and his brow furrows. But he eventually schools his face into that charming smile that still makes it’s way into Isak’s dreams.

He steps forward to envelop Isak in a hug, effectively pushing Elias to the side. “You’re real.” It’s breathed into Isak’s ear, arms tightening around each other.

Isak laughs breathlessly. “I should hope so.” Seriously, what is this confidence?

“Oh my god, Isak,” he pulls away and Isak misses the feeling of him. “Look at you. You’ve grown up so beautifully.” He looks over at Elias, and the forced smile is more than apparent. “Is this, uh. This a thing now? Didn’t know you were friends.” He gestures at the air between them and before Isak can disagree, Elias pulls him close.

“I’d say Is and I are a little more than friends.” Isak chokes a little, not wanting this to be the way Even found out. “And, I mean, seven years is an awful long time, it’s not like you’re still friends.”

Even’s jaw clenches, and the vein in his neck pops. Isak has only seen him this mad a few times in his life, and it scares him how easily he’s fallen back into this role. He knew Even better than himself, and now it feels like he still does.

“You never told me.” He pointedly ignores Elias, and the hurt is clear in his expression. Isak just wants to make it all better.

“I hadn’t even told myself.” It’s all he can offer. Even nods, a small smile quickly replacing any sign of hurt.

“So, uh, I was here for a bachelor party, but it seems like my friends have abandoned me, and I’m not really close to the groom. Coffee on me?” Isak agrees before he can even think about it, and Elias makes a little pissed off sound. Whatever. Deal with it, Isak thinks.

It’s awkward.

There’s no other way to describe the silent, tense atmosphere. Elias keeps touching him and at first it feels nice, but Even won’t stop staring at his hand on Isak’s shoulder, thigh, neck. It starts to feel not so nice, and both the touch and the stare need to calm the fuck down.

“So, Even. What have you been up to?” The way the man’s face lights up is Christmas and birthdays and Isak hates that he forgot what it looked like.

“I’ve been kind of all over the place. Went to school, left. Went back after a while. Directed a few short films, but I’m focusing on art right now. Actually, I’m here for a show.” He’s such a passionate man, and Isak can’t help but lean forward in interest. He’s aware of Elias’ fingers in his hair, but Even is here and everything feels right again.

“I’m so happy for you.” There isn’t any resentment, or anger, like he imagined. No heat. He’s just insanely proud of how well the man’s grown up. Isak always knew that Even would do amazing things, but after he left, he never expected to be able to hear about them.

Even’s hand covers Isak’s over the table and the whole world dissolves into nothing. It’s just Isak and Even. Even and Isak.

“What about you? I’ve heard some things, but clearly, not enough.” He looks at Elias, and their bubble shatters.

“Just finished school, actually. I’ve got a job lined up at a high school, as a counsellor. But I’m just chilling out before all of that starts.” He looks down, unsure of how Even will react. He’s always been like this. Eager to please him.

“That’s amazing, pretty boy. I’m so proud.” Face flushed, he hides behind his coffee mug, before smiling broadly at Even. He can’t help the butterflies flitting nervously in his stomach, or the way his body just reacts to being so close to Even.

“He’s great in bed too.” And what the fuck? Isak turns to Elias, no trace of the warmth he was feeling moments before.

“What the fuck, Elias? You have no right to talk like that about me.” His voice is even, but his face is flushed, and his hands are trembling.

“What? It’s not like I’m making it up. We’re talking about your achievements, and I’d say you’re at least in my top 3 when it comes to giving head.” His smirk is thrown in Even’s direction, but Isak feels it like a slap in the face.

"I think you should go.” Even’s voice has taken on a dangerous edge, and if Elias was smarter, he would have left. But he’s not.

“Why? Jealous I got there first?” They’re standing up now, chests puffing, matching eyes making the whole thing look like a scene from a shitty superhero movie.

Surprisingly, the first swing comes from Isak, and all hell breaks loose.

It’s a mess of limbs and shouting and the sleepy teen at the till calling the cops. Isak drags Even out when he hears the sirens, forcing them to run through dark alleys.

They run and run until their legs and lungs burn and the alleys have turned into quiet neighbourhoods. Even’s lip is bleeding and Isak has a bruise forming on his cheek. When they stop, laughter bubbles out from both of them. Isak lets his thumb brush away the blood from Even’s lip, and Even strokes the faint red mark on his cheekbone. The air around them is electric, neither one saying anything. Just feeling.

“You know, the first time I met you, I thought you were the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.” Isak hums, that memory is one of his favorites. “Now that we’re meeting again, I think you’re beautiful.” Even presses a kiss to his forehead, and Isak tries to ground himself with a chant of justfriendsjustfriends.

It’s Thursday now, and Isak is still in love.

Ages 13 and 15

It’s a rare Friday where Sonja isn’t hanging around them, and things feel like they used to. Even’s full attention is on Isak. He can’t stop looking at the older boy, and feeling so warm under his loving gaze.
It only takes a few words to ruin it all. “I think I’m going to ask her to be my girlfriend.” The pure joy on his face makes Isak burn with jealousy. Why can’t it be him.

“Do you think I shouldn’t?” He needs to get better at not showing how he feels all the time.

“No, no you should.”

“Then why do you look like someone shat on your toast?” Isak sort of snorts, but it comes out too hard and it really hurts. Doesn’t stop Even from laughing at him, though.

“Ok, first, shut up. And it’s nothing dude. Just like, girlfriend? That’s big.” Lies, lies, lies.

“Yeah, but I’m fifteen, man. It’s about time. And Sonja’s really great.” Of course she’s great. She’s a pretty girl. With tits. And a not dick. It’s all simple math, and if there’s one thing Isak knows, it’s his math. Good looking boy plus pretty girl equals high school sweethearts that get married way too young and have three awful kids and somewhere in his forties, Even is going to cheat on her with his young secretary.

Ok. So, maybe not that. But it’s the way the world works, and Isak is just jealous that it’s happening to his best friend. That’s totally it. It has nothing to do with the hard muscles and scruff that find their way into Isak’s dreams. Or, more recently, the plump lips and messy dark blond hair that belong to his best friend.

“Yeah, dude. Go for it.”

The silence is uncomfortable. Isak’s thinking way too much and Even’s not seeing things clearly. He’s not seeing their friendship fall apart. Or the scars his parents are leaving on him. They aren’t visible, but Isak knows that if you pay attention, you’ll be able to see the cracks in his skin.

“Isak.”

“Hm?”

“Is every - are we ok?” Maybe Even is looking. But Isak isn’t ready for this and doesn’t think he ever will be.

“Yeah, of course. Drittsek.” It isn’t. They aren’t. Isak decides that Even doesn’t need to be bothered with his useless inner turmoil. So he doesn’t. He lets the atmosphere get back to how it usually is, and they joke and tease. Isak isn’t as into it though, unsure of what the days to come would bring.

Ages 12 and 14

Isak falls in love on a Wednesday. Or, that’s when he finally realizes it. In reality he knows it’s been much longer. His whole life. Even is safe and warm and comfort and it really is no wonder he’s fallen in love with him. The boy’s mind works at a million miles a minute, and Isak’s certain he could never get bored. He could listen to him take movies apart and watch him draw silly pictures for hours. The rest of his life.

He remembers when he was six and decided that he would marry Even. It just seemed natural at the time. Until he told his parents over dinner, while Even nodded in agreement. His parents didn’t seem to think so. And after they forced Even out, Isak’s mother sat him down and spent the whole night explaining to him what happens to men who marry other men. That God doesn’t like it and Isak would end up in hell. It didn’t make much sense to him at the time. He loved Even and you’re supposed to marry the person you love.

He didn’t get it until later. When the lectures sank into his bones and every time he looked at himself words like sin and useless and faggot etch themselves into his skin and he hates it. Hates himself. And he tries to hate the love he feels for his friend, but it’s impossible. Those moments where he allows himself to feel and love and live are the most freeing and he’s too selfish to give it up.

Ages 19 and 21

“Don’t give me that Grindr bullshit I saw you delete it. It’s Friday, man. Just come with us.” Isak rolls his eyes and pokes Magnus’ side. It’s not that he doesn’t want to chill with his friends, it’s just. It’s one thing to come out. Say the words, let everyone know who he is. It’s an entirely different thing to go to a party where people expect him to be smooth and charming and hook up like he’s always done. He doesn’t know how to differentiate between friendship and interest. Clearly. He’s still hung up on a boy who would never love him the same way.

“I don’t know, I’ve got a shit ton of homework to get done. I’ll still be at Jonas’ on Sunday.”

“Fy faen, how are you ever going to get laid? There are tons of gays here.” He means well, but god Isak wishes Magnus would just shut up.

“Tact, asshole. Use some tact. But, he’s not wrong. You should come with us tonight.” Jonas pats his shoulder before heading to his class.

Isak supposes he can try. Nothing has to happen. Just some drinks with his boys.

This is a mistake. The guys stayed with him for about an hour before they’d been lured away by swaying hips and batting lashes. Isak is happy for them, but he really hates them in that moment. He doesn’t really know anyone here so he’s just awkwardly sitting next to a couple making out. The music is shit too.

There’s a pretty tanned boy in the kitchen smiling at him, and he feels a little lost. Is that a flirty smile or is he not even looking at Isak? He smiles back a little (it’s not even a real smile, more like a quick twitch at the corners of his lips). But the boy lights up and his pearly teeth contrast beautifully with his dark skin.

He makes his way over to Isak and in accented Norwegian says, “Hi, I’m Javi.”

It’s not a mistake.

(They go on dates and kiss and hold hands, and Javi is patient with Isak. It’s one of the best summers Isak’s ever had.)

Ages 22 and 24

Isak wakes up alone in another room he doesn’t recognize. The smell of pancakes wafting over from somewhere outside. He takes in the room, and it’s surprisingly homely. Lived in. Colourful flecks of paint spattered along the walls. Clothes on the floor. Everything smells like Even. Like spices and honey and soap. It’s a good weird combo and Isak can’t help it when he burrows deeper into the pillow.

It feels like a dream. It probably is. Life doesn’t do this. Doesn’t work out how Isak wants it to. And he’s waiting to wake up, but the quiet clattering lulls him back to sleep.

“Wake up, pretty boy.” Warm breath tickles his ear and a large hand strokes his back. “Come on, Isak. Your breakfast is going to get cold, baby.” What?

Isak’s eyes fly open and he sits up and he’s suddenly so, so close to Even. He doesn’t back away, instead, tilts his head back, and lets his lips part. “Halla.” It’s a whispered prayer. A confirmation that yes this is real and it’s happening. He’s sitting in Even’s bed, after seven years of nothing.

“Halla.” There are bruises on his face but Isak thinks Even’s never been more beautiful. But there’s an uncertainty that makes him want to cry. Is Even feeling what he is? Does he know just what kind of effect he has on Isak?

“Come eat.” Even does that thing with his eyebrows, sitting back on his knees, and Isak is 13 again.

“Baby?” He matches Even’s expression, and grins when Even laughs.

“I don’t care if it’s been seven years or seventy years. You’re always going to be my baby Isak.”

“Fuck off,” he scoffs, teasing. “You’re only two years older than me.” He lets Even grab him by the wrist and pull him out of the bedroom, into a small kitchen.

There’s coffee and fruit and pancakes, and Isak wonders how long the man’s been up.

“You should have been a chef.” They're barely even words, a mouthful of pancakes is hard to talk through. But Even gets it.

“I don’t think I could have done it. I only cook for your lazy ass.” It’s that easy banter that he didn’t know how much he missed until it’s back again.

“You love my ass.” Isak tenses, because it means a lot. It’s a joke, but it’s also a confession, a hope. He can’t even breathe anymore.

Easy as ever, Even responds quietly. “I really do.” His is saturated with fond and the intense look in his eyes says so much. I loved you. I love you. You’re it.

And then the moment is over. They’re just two guys eating breakfast. Except that Even moves his chair so that they’re sitting with their thighs touching. They’re two guys eating breakfast and Isak’s hand is curled around Even’s ankle. Even though it makes it really hard to eat, Isak can’t stop smiling.

(That also makes it very hard to eat. But who needs food when the man of his dreams loves him back?)

---

They’re sitting on Even’s couch, Isak’s back to Even’s chest. He’s not really paying attention to the movie they’re watching, instead playing with Even’s fingers.

“You know, when we first met, I thought you were an angel.” Isak’s voice is low, not wanting break the comfortable mood. It’s been a week since that night at the cafe. Seven days of relearning each other. They talked about everything. About his mama and Even’s breakdown at school. About Isak coming out and what the fuck happened with Elias (they don’t really spend too much time on him. He’s not worth it). They talk about Even’s fallout with Sonja. How his mind (and heart) was always on this pretty boy he grew up with. They took tours and ate food and watched weird movies. Even showed Isak the city and Isak showed Even his heart.

“No way.” Even’s low chuckle rumbles deep in his chest.

“Yeah. I told mama about it, but she wasn’t doing good then. So of course she called you a demon.” Isak can laugh at it now, his mama is good. He’s sitting with the only man he’s ever loved.

“She was probably right, Isak. I’m no angel.” Even’s head dips to rest against his neck. With everything they’ve been through, a smarter person might agree. But Isak isn’t that smart, and nothing really matters. He’d go through it all again if it meant he’d end up here.

“Shut up, you’re my angel.” He takes a long breath, and gently pushes Isak off him, so that they can sit face to face.

“I’m really not. Isak, I love you. You make me feel things that I’ve never felt before. But I can’t let you do this. I’m going to ruin you.” He’s not looking at Isak and it reminds him of the time Even moved away. He’s not letting this happen again.

“There’s absolutely nothing you can say or do that’s going to make me leave you. Not again.”

“I’m bipolar.” He looks at Isak, eyes searching. Gauging his reaction. Isak knows enough about mental illness to know it’s not easy. But. It’s Even. His Even. The boy who defended him from bullies. And taught him how to ride his bike. And the boy he’s loved his entire life.

“Ok.”

“It’s not ok. It’s not something that’s going away. It’s a part of me. It’s ugly and hard, and you’re just going to leave me.” The words make him want to cry. There’s so much self doubt and Isak hates that Even has to feel like this.

“It is ok. Because it’s a part of you. And when I told you I love you, I meant it. All of you. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want easy. And I sure as hell don’t want to leave you over something you can’t control.” He takes Even’s face in his hands and presses his lips to Even’s. It’s their first kiss ever, and it’s perfect. Isak pours everything he has into it, and Even takes and takes and takes. It’s beautiful and messy and tongue and lips and teeth. Isak’s hands travel to Even’s hair, and lets Even pull him on his lap.

His lungs protest for air, but Isak doesn’t give in. Can’t. Not with his angel holding his heart and the feeling of it all going straight to his soul. When they finally break apart, they don’t. Their lips and hands don’t leave each other. It’s just pure love and Isak has tears stinging behind his eyes and he’s feeling so much.

Even’s hands travel to cup his butt, lifting them off the couch as Isak wraps his legs around his waist. He’s laid out on Even’s bed, heart stuttering as Even presses kisses everywhere, whispering into his skin.

“You’re so perfect. I love you.” There’s sunshine in his touch and Isak’s entire body is lit up with it.

“Even,” he’s moaning and writhing as his clothes come off. “My angel.” They aren’t even doing anything, but Isak is delirious. Even’s fingers feel so right and good. They’re in his hair and on his face. Scratching lightly down his chest and gripping him just like that.

“What do you want me to do, baby?” His voice is soft and sweet. Isak isn’t sure he’s ready for everything, and brings Even’s face down to his, reclaiming his perfect lips.

“Just touch me. Want to kiss you. Love you.” Even’s sliding his clothed body against Isak’s and it’s not enough. He needs to touch his skin. “Off, Evi.” And like magic they’re gone. Or maybe Even’s just really quick. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is Even grinding into Isak kissing him relentlessly. The friction is delicious, and Isak is so overwhelmed with love and lust and Even, he’s not going to last much longer.

“Gonna - fuck, Evi.” He’s not sure if Even’s just really good, or him being in love makes it all so much more intense, but the feeling of Even rocking against him, his hands everywhere, is the best thing he’s ever experienced.

“Come for me, baby boy. My pretty boy. Mine.” Even’s body stills for a moment, and he’s released all over Isak. The feel of it on his skin pushes Isak over the edge, and soon they stay like that, Even on top of him, waiting for their heart rates to return to normal. It’s probably gross, but Isak is still lost in the moment.

“Love you, Even.”

Ages 25 and 27

It’s a quiet Wednesday morning and it’s beautiful. Isak’s standing in the garden of Even’s childhood home. The place he’s spent so much of his own childhood. He remembers being young and falling off the swing on the tree. He remembers playing pirates with Even. The window he used to sneak in through looms overhead, looking down at him.

Even’s standing in front of him and he’s never looked so beautiful. His friends and family stand around them, but Isak finds it hard to look away from his angel. His husband.

The ring on his finger is a wonderful weight and the man in his heart is an even better one. He does his best to stay in the moment, be a gracious host. But it’s hard when Even’s vows are still replaying in his head.

“I’m so happy, baby.” His mama hugs him close, and his papa nods behind her.

“Me too.”

“You’re going to have a beautiful life together. You deserve it, my perfect boy,” She’s doing so well, and it’s everything in the world to him that they have this. That she’s his mama again. That he’s her perfect boy. His life is so good.

Isak still doesn’t believe in God or angels. He doesn’t buy into it. But this right here? Being surrounded with his family and so much love. It’s something divine. The result of a higher power. It’s sacred and it’s holy.

They stand together and smile for the photographer, Even rubbing small circles into his hip.

“I love you, pretty boy.”

“Love you too, angel.”

---

Isak, I met you on a Wednesday. I lost you on a Wednesday. And the universe brought you back to me on a Wednesday. So it’s only appropriate that we’re here coming together on a Wednesday. I think you were put in this universe for me. My best friend. The man of my life. My husband. I promise to love you when you’re grumpy in the morning, and when you’ve had a rough day. I promise to honour and cherish you. I promise to make movies about you. And fill galleries with your face. I promise to take care of you and be your angel. Forever. In this universe, and every other one where there’s an Isak and an Even.