Each step feels like agony. His muscles burn, sweat pouring out of every crevice of his body. But he finds it. Their little hideout, still untouched from everything that happened. There are fine tendrils of moss raking up the walls. The door creaks, as if it hadn't been used in years. He swears it's barely been two months. He lets himself fall onto the couch, his screaming legs giving in in gratitude and he's out in a second.
The next day, Isak wakes up to find a man looking at him.
"You look beautiful," the man says and Isak's heart stops. He wants to deny, deny, deny. He wants to laugh and make a joke. But this Isak has lived through a lot of cruel months. This Isak isn't afraid of what he wants. This Isak decides to be a little brave.
"Thanks," Isak whispers, his voice scratchy from disuse. He hadn't needed to speak in a long time.
"I'm Even," the man says and holds out his hand, eyes bright and shiny as if they aren't living in the literal apocalypse.
A simple, "Isak," is what he settles on as a response. He wants to say more. About how it is far too early. About how you can't just walk up to somebody like that. About how ethereal Even looks from Isak's position on the couch. About his crow's feet and the little wrinkles on his nose. Even is still a stranger, he reminds himself and stays silent on the matter.
Even, seemingly unperturbed by his silence, sits down next to him.
"Do you live here?" He asks, eyes still focused intensely on Isak. Isak finds himself squirming under Even's gaze.
"I used to come here with-," Isak swallows uselessly, "a friend."
Even frowns briefly, "I haven't seen anyone here." His voice is apologetic, almost sorrowful. Isak hears what he isn't saying.
"No, no. I know where Jonas is. I was with him when-, when it happened." Isak says. He looks up at Even again, his throat suddenly parched. He wants to surge up and embrace Even who looks so gentle and warm. It should feel absurd, to crave the touch of a stranger. It doesn't. Isak steels himself and takes a leap of faith. Even is warm and the moment he feels his arms encircling his body, Isak knows what he's been missing. Embarrassingly, he begins crying. He expects Even to pull back and put some distance between them. Instead, Even draws slow circles on his back, his hand a soothing reminder of human touch. Isak has been alone for so long and his body is craving this.
He doesn't say anything when he feels thick tears falling on his face and hair. Perhaps Even needs this too. Isak lets himself be held and when the crying stops he reaches up and cups Even's jaw. He waits a beat, allowing Even to pull away but the other man smiles at him so brightly. He seals their lips with a kiss and fireworks erupt in his stomach. Even guides them downwards until they're both stretched out next to each other.
Kissing Even feels like being in a movie. It's gentle at first, their hands tentative and eager to explore. Isak wants to touch and so he does. Even pulls him close and his stomach swoops with excitement. Their gentle exploration turns more hurried, turns into them rolling around and losing their clothes, it turns into touching and fondling until the music reaches its crescendo and they still and reach their climax. They fall back and laugh, relieved and giddy about what this means.
They spend the day like this, no longer frantic but deliberate and careful. Their little bubble is fragile and wobbly and when the sun goes down, their mood goes along with it.
It happens like this: People go to sleep, healthy and fine, rosy cheeks and brilliant smiles. When morning comes their cheeks are gaunt and hollow, their bodies light as a feather. There is some frantic movement, ears pressed against a still chest, hands gripping a wrist, but it's too late. They bury their dead and fall asleep, only for the day to repeat. Their numbers dwindle, their spirits crumble and nature heals as they wither away.
Isak makes to stand up then. They don't know if it's contagious. They don't know anything. But it doesn't seem smart. To sleep so close together. Even grasps his hand and pulls him back into his arms. Isak clenches his eyes shut, muscles taut and rigid. But Even is sweet and gentle, whispering of long-gone stories and happier times. Isak falls asleep without issues.
Isak dreams of an abandoned cabin. Each step makes his calves burn and his lungs exhale in exhaustion. Moss rakes around the dilapidated building, dark green vines a beautiful contrast against the bloody handprints on the wall. Isak swallows but moves on. Inside is worse.
He can see it, a trail of blood leading from the living room up to the bedrooms. The cabin looks beautiful, sunlight streaming through the broken windows, illuminating the entire room. It looks almost cozy. Isak stays for a moment, thinking about the memories he made here. He thinks of Eva and Jonas, of Even.
Abruptly, he begins walking again, following the trial to the room he once caught Eva and Jonas in. He raised his fist and holds it there. He waits one, two, three seconds and wrenches the door open. Even lies there in a pool of his own blood. His eyes are open, directed at Isak and he smiles with a mouth full of bloody teeth.
"Look at the curtains, Isak," Even says but Isak can't get his eyes to look away. Even was speaking nonsense anyways.
"Wake up, beautiful," Even says from behind him and Isak wakes up in Even's gentle arms.