If there's one thing Mikkel trusts his boyfriend's judgement on, it's book recommendations. Eirik knows his tastes inside out, and looks at a series objectively rather than basing his recommendations solely off his own tastes. So when Mikkel decides to give fantasy books a try, he goes straight to Eirik for advice.
The Norwegian is going through his revision sheets, lips moving silently as he tries to remember complicated words that all sound the same. He's seated himself down on the sofa, however, a signal that he doesn't mind taking a break if Mikkel wants to chat. He glances up once he hears his partner's footsteps, a soft smile serving as a greeting.
"D'you have any fantasy books I can read?" Mikkel asks.
Surprise flickers across Eirik's face, soon replaced by an expression of pure joy. He nods, rising gracefully to his feet and walking over to the bookcase. Most of the books lining its shelves are Eirik's, a variety of different genres tidied away so he can find them again without difficulty. Mikkel's books, on the other hand, are put haphazardly wherever there's space, with recipe books nestled between psychology manuals and theatre scripts.
Pale fingers brush against various spines as Eirik mutters to himself. Regularly, he pulls a heavy volume off the shelf, flips through its pages, before shaking his head and sliding it back into the gap reserved for it. Mikkel catches snippets of the reasons he lists to himself: too many complicated names to remember, not enough action, an unlikeable protagonist...
He eventually decides on five different books. Most are part of a series, one or two can be read as standalones. They vary in length, some character-driven, others plot-driven. Eirik presents them to Mikkel one by one, giving him a brief summary without spoiling the plot, weighing the pros and cons, tells him why he thinks the Dane will enjoy each one.
He pauses once he's finished, hesitates as Mikkel chooses which one to start with.
"I can read a chapter to you, if you'd like me to."
Mikkel whips his head up to stare at Eirik, a rush of excitement coursing through his veins. Having Eirik read to him? Fuck yes! He can barely keep the anticipation out of his voice as he agrees, handing him the novel he's chosen.
Eirik settles back down on the sofa, pats the cushion next to him. Careful not to latch on to his boyfriend, Mikkel snuggles close, resting his head just below his partner's bony shoulder.
Eirik takes a deep breath and begins to read.
He's quite the storyteller. Words blend together seamlessly to form a sentence, never tripped on, never mispronounced. He pauses at all the right moments, heightening the suspense when required, speeding the pace ever so slightly when it comes to fight scenes. His voice doesn't adopt various accents, but his tone when each character speaks conveys their personality perfectly.
One chapter. Two chapters. Three chapters. Four chapters in, Eirik suggests they continue another day, his voice having grown hoarse. Mikkel wants to protest, engrossed in the epic tale and its multitude of interesting characters. He wants to learn more about this fleshed out world his imagination brings to life, a world of breathtakingly beautiful cities, terrifying monsters and heroic protagonists. He wants to lose himself in this fantasy world so different to the one he lives in. No wonder Eirik loves these kinds of books. Escapism at its finest, he can't help but think.
Eirik takes a sip of his water before gesturing the next book on the pile.
"You can probably read that one by yourself without mixing things up."
So Mikkel does, and while his boyfriend returns to his studying, he promptly loses himself in a tale of fire-breathing dragons and incompetent policemen that leaves him in hysterics all the way through.