Even
He's not ready to give this thing meaning. The increased frequency of Isak-related thoughts. Pleasant, good Isak-related thoughts. He's not ready to think about what the fluttering in his stomach when Isak smiles means. He's definitely not ready to assign a label to the way his stomach dropped when Isak started crying in the park a week ago. And now, they haven't spoken in a week, and it's fucking killing him.
Even's spent every night watching the steady rise and fall of Isak's back, not entirely sure the other boy was sleeping. He's been doing his best to forget the way he almost told Isak everything. The way he told him too much. And how easy it was. It's so easy to get lost in Isak and the thought of it makes Even feel numb. He's not like that. He's not going to be that kid.
Sighing, he turns over on his mattress, the cold, empty room echoing the cold, empty feeling in his chest.
Even hates coffee. It tastes like shit most of the time, and only after a disgusting amount of creamer and sugar can he drink it. And even then, it still tastes like shit. But, he supposes, it's alright in this moment. He'd take grimacing into his mug over looking at Sonja sitting across from him.
The cafe is too bright, too happy for this. They haven't spoken since they sat down, and Even's pretending Sonja isn't glaring holes into his face.
"If you're not going to say anything, why did you come."
"Sorry."
"Even."
"Sorry, Son. I'm just- I don't know what to say. I don't know how to talk to you."
"This used to be so easy, Ev." It was. It was easier than breathing. But that was then. And now he can't say a word without shattering hearts.
"I know."
Sonja shifts, pushing hair behind her ear. She's easily the most beautiful girl he knows, and Even wants to feel something for her so bad.
"Fine, we won't talk about it. How's school?"
"It's alright. How's work?"
"I got a promotion. My manager gave me wine to celebrate."
"The pervy one?" He smiles a little, a small half-smirk, and for the first time this feels something close to right. This is good. This is normal.
"Yeah, but the promotion was given to me based on merit, so you can just shut the fuck up." It's easy when there isn't pressure. When she isn't asking those questions, and he doesn't have to fake those feelings. It's easy when he forgets that his problems exist and Sonja ever wanted more.
"Merit, sure." She rolls her eyes and he laughs in return. The sit in comfortable silence, taking occasional sips from their mugs. Something mends.
"You're the worst."
"Your mom's the worst." Everything's been so heavy lately, he's been feeling too much, it so good; this stupid, juvenile insult. It feels good to feel like a kid again.
Sonja mimics him with a nasally voice and they giggle over their shitty coffee.
"Hey, you should really go see your dad. He's been calling me a lot lately."
And then it's not so easy.
"Oh. He probably wants me to come by and work. I've really been slacking off." He laughs it off and changes the subject. They stick to safe topics, but the conversation dies out and the air is tense again.
Nothing is ever easy for Even.
He can't sleep. It's his third sleepless night, this week, and while he's no stranger to it, it really sucks. He tiptoes out of the room and into the kitchen. When his mamma was better and Even was a lot younger, she'd warm up milk for him on nights like this. Sang while she did it. Bad nights always called for cocoa.
Even doesn't bother with the lights, and goes to pull out a pot, when everything goes yellow. Marianne sidles up next to him, wrapped in an intricate shawl.
"Halla, sweetheart. How's it going?" Mari is a wonderful woman and Even often sees his own mamma in her.
"All good, Mari." Her tired, sunny smile looking so achingly familiar, he doesn't even try to chase away the image of Isak in his mind.
"Not tired?" Moms have a sixth sense, Even decides. The one where they just know.
"Not really, just felt like having some cocoa." He starts a little when her shoulder knocks into his, but accepts the comfort it provides.
"I always did say it's never too late for cocoa." She starts to mix up the cocoa and sugar, and Even's grateful for her understanding. "If you ever need a ride to see your mom or back up the mountain, you can always let me know."
He pauses for a beat, then, "I've been taking to her a lot, but she really doesn't want me to come by. So it's ok, but thank you. For everything." He's glad she doesn't comment on his omission.
"Well, my offer still stands. And seriously, it's so good to have you here. Isak is a terror in the kitchen, so it's nice to be able to cook with someone. You're a great kid, Even." He doesn't say anything, but smiles, hyperaware of how wrong she is. The things he's done to Isak haunt him. Even's still unsure what happened with him last week. They were having a really good time. He'd opened up more than he'd ever had to anyone and then suddenly it was gone.
Eventually Marianne heads to bed, leaving him on the couch with his thoughts, the tv on low, blue lights flashing across his face.
It's been a long time, but sometimes Even sees the world in shots and frames. This scene would open on the phone in his hand, message after unanswered message under a bold name. Today, breathing and the sounds of a pencil scratching on paper are the soundtrack behind it.
The camera would pan out, but you'd never see his face. Instead, it's shoulders, a bobbing adam's apple. A soft piano melody fills the air. Slowly focus on blonde curls, shaking slightly as the boy writes. Follow the line of his arm, to his hand passing over a sheet of paper, already writing on a fresh one with the other. Heartbeat pounds when their pinkies touch. Then, silence.
Loud voices approach, shattering the peace of the scene. Even loses focus, and turns around to see Marianne walking into the kitchen, a larger figure trailing behind her. Dread fills Even down to his toes. Isak's head lifts, and Even can see him looking at the side of his head.
"Even, I've got a surprise for you." Suddenly, his mouth is too dry, palms slick with sweat.
"You haven't been doing your job, boy." Even looks around, panicked, unable to breathe. The man in front of him stands at a menacing 7 feet and towers over Even. His hands seem so big, and Even's shrinking and shrinking and readies himself for the blow, arms raised and
He gasps, sitting up. His blanket pooled abound his ankles, chest glistening with sweat. Isak's room is bathed in light.
"Are you ok?" Even jumps from the proximity of the whisper. Isak backs away a little, sitting on his haunches.
"I'm fine."
"Ok. Just. You were talking in your sleep." Of course the first time they speak in a week, Even's a mind is a mess.
"I'm good." Isak put his hand on Even's shoulder and the touch burns.
"If you need anything, I'm right here." He can't help but smile at the way Isak flushes as he stands.
"Goodnight, Isak."
They still aren't speaking.
Isak's friends glare at him most days, and he gets it. Deserves it, even. But he thought it was going to change after that night. Instead, Isak's rarely at home, and when he is, the bushy browed one hovers over them protectively. He never gets a chance to talk to him, and frankly, it's pissing Even off.
He's figured out what the fuck he's feeling now. He wants to be Isak's friend. He just wants to hear the kid laugh and maybe laugh with him sometimes, wants that gap-toothed smile beaming up at him. He knows why his friends are so careful with Isak. He's precious. And Even knows that now.
Talk to me.
When their eyes meet, Even waves him over, grinning. But he's quickly whisked away by the crowd of boys and girls that usually surround him.
"Isak." He's insane. Actually crazy, to think that this a good idea. Isak looks like a deer caught in headlights. Wide eyed, slack jawed. Pretty. "Can we talk?"
"Leave him alone, Næsheim." His bald friend steps up between them. Bushy brows joins in.
"Seriously, I'm not looking for trouble. I just want to talk to him." He raises his arms, open palmed, to show he's harmless.
"He's not going to put up with your shit anymore. You're fucked in the head if you think you're going to get away with this shit." Even's head starts spinning, he really just wants to talk.
"Isak, come on."
"How many times do we have to tell you, he doesn't want to talk to you." It's spat at him, a hand placed on his chest with force. And fuck, if that doesn't make his blood boil.
He pushes back, losing sight of Isak pulling at his friends' arms, and the crowd forming around them to watch the spectacle.
"Fuck you. I wasn't talking to you. Isak's a big boy, he can decide for himself." He's up in bushy brows' face, snarling, pushing his chest up at the shorter boy.
"Jonas, calm down, please." He barely hears Isak, instead falls back into the lockers behind him, surprised at the sudden blow to his stomach.
"Even!" There's someone beside him, helping him get up, but the pain in his stomach is making him nauseous. "Hey can you walk?" He groans and pushes up. There's a flurry of voices around him but he can't focus.
"Jonas, back -"
"Isak -"
"Guys please -"
"We're going to get you to see the nurse, ok." It's Isak. Looking at him with those eyes that make Even feel like he's falling. His arms holding Even up. All Even can see are the faces around them. Hears that word.
Hears it in that gruff voice.
Come on you fucking queer, take it like a man.
"No." He's pulling out of Isak's hold.
"Even, calm down. Please." His voice is so gentle, it makes Even want to cry.
"Get the fuck away from me, you goddamn slut." I don't mean it. Please. I'm sorry.
The silence is deafening. Isak freezes, arms still outstretched.
Even backs away, angry red splotches blooming on his face.
Isak crumples onto the ground.
"Fuck you, Even." His voice is barely a whisper but it's loud enough.
It's loud enough.