Final day of DenNor Week! (I've posted day 6 separately, as it's in a different AU). Really enjoyed writing these, though I'm slightly disappointed they're so short. Thank you for reading!
Quick note: Louis Pasteur is meant to be a prépa, a 2-3 year course in preparation for the entrance exams of some universities/courses.
Saturday nights are their nights. On Saturday nights, they stay in, watch a film, play video games, read each other stories, make love... Saturday nights are private, intimate, secret. The perfect time to discuss their deepest fears, to share grievances that eat away at their patience.
It's been three weeks since they last spent one together.
For the past three weeks, Eirik has locked himself away in the spare room, emerging only to grab what could barely be considered a bite to eat. He tells Mikkel he needs to be alone, that there's nothing for him to worry about. He's fine, he insists, pretending that failing his exams hasn't shattered his confidence, that his self-esteem isn't the lowest it's ever been.
"Gaming night tonight?"
He's disheveled. His hair sticks out at odd angles, matted clumps knotted together to form a pale fuzz. Shadows that circle his eyes and hang under cheekbones turn him into a ghost. He hasn't changed his clothes for days, from the smell of him. He looks a mess, yet he seems alive once more.
Holding back tears that have suddenly sprung at the corners of his eyes, Mikkel forces himself to stay still, not to pull his boyfriend into a crushing hug.
"That works with me," he grins.
The game they pick is one of Vasilica's recommendations, one they've already made progress in. A fun game, one that requires concentration, yet a lack of cutscenes enables them to chat over it to their heart's content. While Eirik took to the game straight away, falling in love with the level design and hidden lore, Mikkel finds himself enjoying it a little more each time they play.
The rules they impose on themselves could be considered unnecessarily strict. With every death, someone else is handed the remote. Before taking the remote, any sticky or greasy fingers must be washed with warm water and soap. If the game gets on their nerves, they can stop, take a short break, play something else, do something else, anything but let their irritation boil over. There are more rules, of course, more ways to ensure the evening goes smoothly. Both Eirik and Mikkel know them all by heart.
Eirik insists on cooking. When he next emerges from the spare room, he walks with a newfound spring in his step. His hair glows under artificial lights, furious brushing having turned it fluffy. He's dressed up for the occasion, a clean shirt, smart pants, even a tie. And when Mikkel fetches some nibbles to place on the coffee table, he catches a whiff of cologne.
They sit close to one another, not touching but close enough to feel the warmth the other radiates. Eirik draws his knees up to his chest as he watches Mikkel play, the latter's legs outstretched underneath the coffee table. A comfortable silence has fallen between them, their attention focused on the monstrous entity on the screen that darts from one side of the arena to the next. It's taking all Mikkel's concentration not to lose track of the boss, and he hisses in frustration as poison causes their character to let out a scream as she succumbs to it.
"Fuck this boss," he snarls, passing the remote over to Eirik.
His boyfriend, however, appears to be deep in thought. He urges their character into a run as she makes her way to the boss room, slaying the enemies in their way without stopping to consider the best way to deal with them.
"I'm staying here."
Mikkel turns to look at him with surprise, a puzzled frown on his face. Before he can ask Eirik what he means, the man is talking again.
"I've been accepted at Louis Pasteur."
"That's awesome!"
He wants to hug Eirik, but they've reached the abandoned church where the boss fight takes place, so he settles on putting as much enthusiasm into his voice as humanly possible.
"Yes, well, wasn't sure about it at first. Considered studying biology, but..." He shrugs. "Probably not the best idea right now."
He bites his lip as their character narrowly avoids getting caught in a combo of attacks. She gets two swings in before she's poisoned again, and she darts back, trying to gain some distance so Eirik can heal the status effect.
"I'm happy you're staying here."
"Where else would I go? I enjoy your company," Eirik's eyes remain fixed on the TV screen, but a smile tugs at his lips.
When the boss finally vanishes in a cloud of white, they cheer so loudly Mikkel half-expects one of their neighbours to come knocking at their door. For the first time in three weeks, Eirik lets Mikkel wrap his arms around him and pull him tightly. They sit in that position until the early hours of the morning, making slower progress than they probably should, distracting each other every now and then with jokes and trivia. Laughter fills the air at first, gradually devolving into silence as the night goes on. With fatigue settling over them, they're content to simply lean back and watch the other play, lost in their own thoughts, taking comfort in each other's presence.
In the early hours of the morning, when fatigue severs their conversation and muddles their speech, they turn the television off, wash up, call it a night. For the first time in three weeks, Eirik slips into bed with Mikkel and curls into the warmth he radiates. Tender whispers fill their ears until they drift off, two young lovers who couldn't be more comfortable with one another.