#bfyt

What I really want.

But Even understands. He’s currently chuckling at Isak’s weak and unconvincing retort to his teasing. He always does. He’s never upset. He’s never impatient. He’s always kind and forgiving. He understands that Isak’s years of social ineptitude and prickly responses aren’t just undone and done away with because he started getting professional help. 

Still, Isak isn’t sure that what he wants is right, that it deserves to be voiced and spoken out loud. Because wanting something doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the right thing right now. 

As though sensing the turmoil currently eating Isak up (and knowing that a touch would suffice to anchor him and bring him back), Even squeezes his side as he walks past him and absently presses a phantom kiss to his hair before continuing to the broker. An uninhibited touch that carries so much meaning, so much weight. 

‘Stay with me. Don’t get too lost inside your head. Stay here with me.’

It’s so casual yet deliberate that Isak feels like melting into the hardwood floors. 

“Do you have any apartment facing East?” Even asks the lady with a smile so blinding, Isak can see her blushing too. “Isak has trouble waking up in the morning if it’s not bright enough. Also counter space. Isak needs more counter space. Do you have anything with more counter space?” 

Isak watches Even complain about details and nice-to-haves he would never otherwise care about to the broker and feels his chest swell, a warm and fuzzy feeling settling there and spreading down his limbs. 

It’s Sunday morning and Isak can’t think of any other place he’d rather be.

He walks up to Even mid-rant about the height of the ceiling and presses a sweet kiss to his cheek, making him pause and blink, visibly flustered.

“What was that?” Even smiles, turning away from the broker lady almost completely. 

“I don’t like this one,” Isak says simply, before linking his arm with Even’s.

“No?”

“No. It’s too far from your school.” Not the full truth. But a truth nonetheless.

Even just stares at him, smiling fondly like he’s keeping himself from speaking his mind. The real estate person somehow feels like she’s left the empty apartment.

“What?” Isak asks, embarrassed. 

“You’re being cute. Why are you being cute?”

“Am not,” he scoffs. “I’m being pragmatic. I just don’t want to spend money commuting to you.”

“I could just get an apartment next to this one.”

“What if you spend the night here and have to commute to school or what if i want to pick you up from school?”

Even cups his face with both hands and kisses him on the lips. It’s just a kiss, but Isak still feels dizzy when Even lets him go. 

“You’re being cute again,” Even says before kissing him again. 

.

They’ve been apartment hunting for two weeks now. Separately, however.

Isak had been crashing at kollektivet since he moved back from Trondheim, and it was only a matter of time before he had to find a place to live.

But when he asked Mutta if he knew of any good options, he found out that Even was looking to move out of his mother’s house as well. 

It was rather embarrassing to hear it from a third party when they spent every single night together, either in Even’s bed or latched onto each other on Eskild’s couch. (Isak secretly loves the latter sleeping arrangement the most. He loves not having to justify curling himself around Even and molding into him like he can’t bear being apart from him).

“Heard you were looking for an apartment.”

“Heard about you, too.”

“Maybe we can go to places together. Share one broker. Save time. We’re probably looking for different things anyway.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

But they’re not looking for different things. They hate the same living rooms and fall in love with the same bedrooms. Isak thinks about where Even’s desk would fit and Even complains about Isak’s counter space and sun exposure. Even wants a large bedroom that can fit a king sized bed, and Isak wants a living room that can fit a couch big enough for two tall men. Even thinks about the distance to Isak’s lab and Isak thinks about the one to Even’s uni. They bicker about hardwood floors and appliances, and somewhere along the line, their broker stops asking who the apartment is for, a quiet and knowing smile on her lips. 

.

It’s the perfect apartment.

Isak can just picture where everything would go. All of Even’s film equipment and art supplies. All of the little props he takes to the kindergarten where he’s completing his training. He can tell where Even’s drawings would go on the walls, where he’d leave his backpack as soon as he enters through the door, where Isak would find his socks crumpled on the floor. He can see himself on the kitchen counter, legs spread for Even to fit in between, their heated kisses filled with laughter and ease and ‘scientific’ foreplay. He can see the cupboard they’d keep forgetting about and against which Isak would hit his head every time Even kisses him too deep. He can see where Isak would retract to brood when Even calls him out on something. He can see where Even would nap and where Isak would just perch up to watch him, happy to just be able to watch him.  

It’s the perfect apartment. 

“I might as well put an application down now, right?” Even grins at him, seemingly agreeing with Isak’s entire train of thought and reminding him that he’s the one who found this apartment. 

“Right.”

Even talks with the realtor about faucets and finishes and where the washers and dryers are located in the building while Isak recoils into himself.

They walk out into the night after Even fills out an application and Isak feels a lump in his throat. 

“What’s up?” Even asks, eyes curious and pensive.

“Nothing.” Isak shrugs.

“You’re quiet.”

“It happens to me sometimes.”

“Oh does it, now?” Even laughs. 

“Ugh.” Isak laughs too, shoving him playfully. 

“Are you upset I found an apartment before you?”

No.

“No.”

“Then what is it?” 

Isak considers his next words carefully. He could say how he truly feels or he could go down the pragmatic route. 

“Iss?”

“I just don’t think it’s a very economical decision,” Isak huffs out. His therapist would be so disappointed right now. 

“Huh?”

“The apartment, I mean. The rent, for starters, it’s too high. I mean where are you gonna get all that money every month? It feels like a waste because, well, it’s too big, honestly.”

“Are you telling me to find a smaller apartment?” Even muses quietly. He doesn’t sound irritated. He’s smiling, like this is amusing to him. 

“No! No. The apartment is perfect. Like it’s actually perfect. I’m not saying that.”

Even furrows his brows in confusion. Frankly, Isak is confused by his reasoning, too.  

“Hm. Are you trying to steal my apartment by any chance? Is that what this is about?” Even laughs.

“No. No, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then what is it?” 

Isak looks up at him then. Even is smiling. And he’s so self-assured, so present, so intimidating like this. 

“I’m saying we can both have the apartment,” Isak blurts out, his heart pounding hard in his ears.  

“Hm. And how would that work exactly?”

“We’d call the lady and ask her to add my name to the application,” says Isak. “I’d fill out my part and that way we’ll have more chances of actually getting the apartment with our salaries combined. Not to mention that we’d pay half the rent. And half the utilities! Half the electricity and heating bill! We could share groceries that way food doesn’t go to waste. And we won’t even have to spend money commuting from each other’s places. It’s perfect.”

Isak’s face is flushed by the time he finishes his rant. He’s beyond embarrassed. Even is probably fighting a smirk right now. 

“So this is a money saving strategy?” Even asks. He’s still smiling.

“What?”

“You want us to share an apartment to save money?”

“No. Not just money. I mean, it would be energy, too. Right? We’d lower our carbon footprint. We’d share one fridge, one radiator, one set of lightbulbs. We’d only have to use the vacuum once at a time. We could even share laundry cycles. It’s quite the responsible choice actually.” 

“So.. you want me to be your roommate to fight climate change?”

“Not roommate.” 

“I mean it sounds very close to what you were doing with Eskild.”

“I never showered with Eskild!”

“Oh, we’d be sharing showers, too. To preserve water. Of course.” Even laughs, but Isak doesn’t feel like laughing.

“Even. This is not funny to me! I’m serious!”

Oh. 

There it is. A crack. A small crack. Isak raising his voice and being visibly upset because he is. Because he feels cornered. Because he doesn’t know how to say what he truly feels, what he truly wants. 

And it hits him then. The reason why Even didn’t tell him he was looking to move out of Julie’s apartment in the first place. The reason he never brought up the fact that they spend every single night together and that it doesn’t make any sense that they’re looking for two separate places.

It hits him then: Even doesn’t want this. Even doesn’t, because Isak doesn’t give him enough. 

Isak doesn’t tell him that he loves him very often. He writes it. He implies it. He traces it on his skin, presses it against his lips, whispers it into his neck late at night. But he doesn’t say it. And while Even is kind and patient, he probably wishes Isak were more open by now, more normal. Isak wishes he were, too. 

Even is getting sick of him. Even doesn’t want-

“Isak? Isak, hey, stay with me.” Even brings him back with both hands on his face. A sweet touch, the most comforting touch. Isak will never stop burning for his touch. “I’m sorry for teasing you. It’s not nice. Forgive me.”

I should be the one apologizing. 

“Come on, let’s go back to my place and talk about this later. Yeah? Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“No buts.” 

.

It’s late and dark. It’s past midnight. They’re in Even’s bed at Julie’s apartment, sleeping. Even spooning him. But Isak can tell Even is awake too, his breathing too shallow, too uneven. 

“Even?” Isak asks, his voice a whisper.

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to share an apartment because of money.” 

Even tightens his arms around Isak’s stomach.

“What about climate change?” he asks, making Isak elbow him lightly.

“Don’t be a dick.” 

Even laughs. They both do. Then it’s quiet again.

“Why do you want to share an apartment then?” Even asks then, his voice wavering with nervousness.

It’s late and it’s dark, and Isak can feel Even’s heartbeat against his back. 

He turns around in his arms and tangles their limbs again. He can almost see the blue in Even’s eyes, even in the dark. 

Even is scared, Isak realizes. He’s holding his breath and he’s scared. 

“Because I love you.” Isak says simply. It’s simple because it’s true.    

Even lets out a soft but heartbreaking sigh. Isak wants to hold him until he knows. Until he knows just how deeply and impossibly Isak loves him. 

Isak wants to tell him so much. The words tumble inside his brain while they hold each other in bed rather desperately for a warm night in June.  

I want to share a home with you because I want you around. Because I love hearing you put on clothes in the morning when I’m still sleeping and I love the sound of you unzipping your jeans after a long day before you proceed to sing terribly in the shower. Because I love having you around and watching you make art or marathon some pretentious show or simply take a nap in the middle of the day. 

“Because I’ve never had a home until I had you,” Isak confesses with a tremor to his voice.

Even kisses him then, and it’s wet and salty and desperate. 

Isak can’t tell whose tears he’s tasting.

“Odd night to get emotional about climate change,” Even sniffles with a chuckle when they finally part for air.

“Ugh. Fuck you.”

“Ugh. I love you, too.” 

They kiss again and again and again. 

“My home. You’re my home, too.”  

.

They move in together a week after that.

My drug of choice.

Isak shuts his eyes tighter. It’s almost time. Even is leaving soon to catch his train back to Oslo and Isak can’t bring himself to wake up and face him. He can’t bring himself to look into Even’s eyes after all that and walk him to the train station. He doesn’t want to. So he lies there and hopes Even will tire of waiting for him to come to and just pack up and leave. Isak just plays dead.

“I miss you already,” Even says into his shoulder blade.

Isak’s chest feels tighter. And it’s embarrassing how much it physically hurts, how fast his heart beats, how twisted his insides feel. It’s embarrassing how he can’t bear thinking of lying in this same bed alone after Even leaves, how he wishes he could bottle Even’s scent and spray it all over his bedsheets to make this feeling last longer, this insane feeling of comfort, and ease, and warmth, and belonging.

Play dead. Just play dead.

Even doesn’t seem to buy into Isak’s act, but he doesn’t seem offended by his little performance either. It’s as though he’s learned to decode Isak’s antithetical actions and built a compiler to parse through his language and attach true meaning to his doings. It’s as though, somewhere along the way, Even has learned that when Isak turns his back to him and pretends to be asleep, it’s because he’s feeling too vulnerable and raw to do anything but.

Isak keeps his eyes closed and focuses on controlling his breathing and inhaling deep and slow.

Even’s lips brush against the skin on his neck then, right behind his ear and beside his jaw, right where Isak feels the most. Even doesn’t suck or bite or lick or attempt to channel any of the messiness they’ve been indulging these past couple of days. He just slowly kisses his neck with his full lips, his full plump lips that leave Isak’s head spinning for days at a time from memory alone. It takes everything not to moan right then and there.

Even kisses his neck again, this time tightening his grip around his waist, spooning him closer to his chest, the roughness and despair of his hold contrasting with the softness of his kisses – mere little pecks, slow and unrelenting, wet and agonizing. It all drives Isak into a frenzy, the slowness, the tenderness, the gentleness, making his toes curl, his back arch, his lips part He’s flushed all over. He knows he is. His ears are probably red.  

“I know you’re awake,” Even whispers right below his ear, before kissing the skin there, again and again.

No shit. Isak wants to reply. His breathing is hurried and ragged and he’s writhing in Even’s arms. Of course he’s awake. But his stubbornness won’t let him give in. He’s given in and up plenty these past couple of days. If Even needs a visual and verbal reminder of how much power he has over Isak, he can just revisit his own memories. Surely, he must remember how embarrassing Isak acted last night. Surely, he must remember what Isak said to him before leaving for Trondheim, the night they stood and stared at the moon and both lost their minds.

“You’re shaking,” Even says and Isak whimpers in his head. It’s true. He’s shaking.

After two days of being lost in each other, Even kissing his neck still makes him tremble.

What was the word that Even used again? Insatiable. Isak is insatiable, as though his body has decided to make up for lost time and indulge every single touch it can get. His body has a mind of its own, and it’s starting to react to Even’s kisses with more than just tremors.

Even notices.

“Want me to-”

“No!” Isak finally mouths.

No, he doesn’t want Even to put his hands on him. Not right now. It’s absurd but he doesn’t want to sully this. It’s too pure. He wants to keep this way.

“Okay,” Even says, not even reacting to the fact that Isak has given in and stopped pretending to be asleep.

He doesn’t even make fun of him for shaking like some over-sensitive thirteen year old. He just resumes kissing him and holding him.

Even holds him until he stops shaking.

.

“I have to go,” Even says from the edge of the bed. He’s sitting up, putting on what Isak guesses are socks.

“Okay.”

“My train is in an hour.”

“Well, then go,” Isak replies, his back still turned.

It feels cruel given the happiness that Even brought him this blissful weekend. It feels cruel but he can’t help it. He doesn’t trust himself not to say those stupid meaningless words again.

“You’re not coming?” Even sounds hurt, but only a little. What’s the saying? Disappointed but not surprised.

“Unless you need directions, I don’t see why I should.”

Fuck you, Isak. Just fuck you.

“Okay,” Even mumbles after a long pause. “As you like.”

But it doesn’t sound passive aggressive. Even just resigns to it like he doesn’t have the mental or emotional bandwidth to get Isak to budge.

“Cool.”

“Yeah. I’m just gonna get ready then.”

Isak hates the way the mattress feels under him when Even gets on his feet. He absolutely hates it. He feels sick thinking about how empty he’s going to feel when Even leaves. He feels sick.

“Even, wait.” He hears himself say, finally leaving his fetal position behind and half-sitting on his stupid bed.

“Yes?” Even turns around immediately, his blue eyes shining with something one might call hope. It takes Isak’s breath away and only leaves him with one stupid thought roaming his paused brain.

Definitely him. The most valuable thing in my room is him.

“Uh, just make sure to get the safety lock before you leave so that the door locks behind you.”

Fuck you, Isak. Fuck you.

Even’s eyes lose the sparkle.

“Okay.”

.

Even doesn’t leave right away. Isak can hear him walking around his miserable apartment. He hears him take a shower, fantasizing about how it would feel to be with him in there. He hears random shuffling that he assumes is Even packing. He hears the water running in the kitchen, the toilet flushing, light footsteps turning into louder ones signaling that Even has put on his shoes. Isak just lies there in his bed and listens with his heart thudding in his chest, hoping he won’t regret this too much.

“Okay, I’m off,” he hears Even say in the distance, probably by the front door.

Isak doesn’t respond.

The door unlocks a moment later, and then it closes not too long after that.

The silence is crushing.

.

He nearly trips over his own feet trying to leave his bed, his legs still wobbly from all the kissing and activities from the night before. For a moment, he thinks he’ll find Even by the door still, that he only pretended to close the door behind himself to get Isak to finally come out of his room. But Even is no longer there.

His scent lingers.

Isak walks to the kitchen and realizes dumbly that Even did his dishes.

Who does this? Isak dismisses him in the harshest of ways and Even goes and does his dishes. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ Isak is suddenly angry.

But he’s not really. How could he be? He spots a note sitting atop folded laundry on the dining table.

It takes him a second to realize that’s not laundry. Those are four of Even’s shirts. The ones Isak used to steal all the time. Even left them on his kitchen table.

`i stole some of urs during ur sleeping beauty act. thought u’d want some of mine (in case u miss the chemicals or whatever)’

`C43H64N12O12S2 u :)`

Isak looks at the chemical formula and his heart begins to hammer in his chest again. He doesn’t know what to focus on, the fact that Even got the formula for oxytocin wrong or that this cryptic message is some sort of declaration. Oxytocin, the “love chemical”.

It makes his throat tighten. Even has been nothing but lovely all weekend and Isak can’t get over the fact that he might have said some embarrassing things during sex again. What an idiot.

.

Isak leaves his apartment with shoes but not socks. He sprints down the stairs and runs in the direction of the train station in shorts and one of Even’s shirts.

He doesn’t really have a plan. He just runs. He shuts his brain off and runs.

.

“What exactly are you doing?” Even asks, but he doesn’t look too surprised. He’s smiling and carrying his enormous backpack over one shoulder.

Isak will never understand why he won’t put on both straps. ‘It’s just cooler this way’ ‘are you twelve’ ‘a twelve year old wouldn’t do what I just did to you an hour ago’ ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’ laughter, fake outrage, happiness, home.

Isak feels sick. He hunches over to hold his knees. He’s flushed and out of breath.

“Did you leave your phone charger in my bag?” Even asks, amused and smug. “Is that why you ran all the way here after being in a coma all morning?”

“Fuck you,” Isak mutters, still out of breath, but it’s playful.

“You did already. Twice, if I remember correctly.”

Isak groans, feeling suddenly shy and dizzy. He looks up and finds Even beaming at him. He looks away, suddenly questioning running all the way here.

“Do you have something to pick up near the train station? You mentioned a book you really need to buy. I saw a bookstore on the way.”

Even. Sweet, wonderful Even, who finds him excuses for tagging along, to make this less painful and embarrassing.

“Yeah,” Isak takes the stupid bait. “Yeah, I need to get that book.”

“Cool. You can walk with me then.”

“Yeah.”

They walk, Isak in his sleeping outfit, mortified and flushed from ear to ear, and Even smiling brighter than the sun by his side.

“You shouldn’t have done my dishes.” Isak remembers.

“You did mine when I was feeling like shit. You cleaned and did laundry too.”  

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It is, though,” says Even. “Plus, I used most of those things trying to make us something to eat last night. So it’s no big deal. It’s just dishes.”

Isak feels like a sullen child that’s just gotten chastised. He doesn’t know what to say. So he doesn’t say anything.

They walk, the two of them, Isak and Even roaming the streets of Trondheim. Isak knows that from now on, the city will be divided into two: streets he walked through with Even and streets he didn’t.

He looks at Even and finds him smiling, content. He hopes he feels this way all the time. When they take a random turn left, Isak realizes that either Even is planning on missing his train or it’s departing a bit later than what he let on.

“My train is in an hour. I lied,” Even confesses like he’s read Isak’s thoughts.

“Why?”

“Thought you might chase after me,” he says with a smile. Isak blushes and frowns.

“I did not chase after you.”

“You just ran in your underwear. I know.” Even laughs and Isak doesn’t have the heart to resent him.

He did run after him in his underwear. It’s true.

“Whatever.” He huffs.

They meander through the streets side by side, until Even reaches for his hand and clasps it in his own, making Isak gasp out loud.

No one knows who we are here. It’s okay.

“My shoulder hurts a bit because of my bag.” Even clears his throat, looking ahead as if addressing someone else. “If you hold my arm, it could restore the, uh, the balance.”

Isak would snort out loud if he wasn’t smoldering inside from the hand-holding.

“The balance,” Isak echoes.

“Yeah, you know. Like gravity. Like if I have two things pulling both my shoulders down, it’s better. Hurts less,” Even blabbers.

It’s almost endearing.

“Gravity,” Isak repeats again.

“I mean you know.” Even is blushing. It’s quite a sight. It makes Isak smile.

Or you could just put on both straps, you know.

Isak doesn’t say anything. And after they cross the next street, he links their fingers together, looking away when Even gasps.

“For gravity,” Isak says. “You know.”

“For gravity,” Even repeats.

“Yeah, for your shoulder.”

Isak cracks a smile as he says it, because they’re both idiots.

“We’re so fucking annoying,” Even laments out loud, breaking character a little. He’s smiling too.

“Talk about yourself.”

Isak isn’t sure who kisses the other first. They both move in unison, as though cued in. It feels like coming home. 

It must be quite a sight. Isak and Even kissing in the middle of the street. Even throwing his bag on the floor so he can wrap his arms around Isak’s back. Isak smiling into the goddamn kiss in his boxers with his fingers in Even’s hair in the middle of the day.

For gravity.

Isak has a million things to say, a million questions to ask. Am I gonna see you again? I hate that we never talk. This weekend made me happier than I’ve been in months. Is Sonja still a thing? Did you only come visit because you knew I would fucking break and cry the moment you touch me? Did you come visit because you had to feed this weird bond we have? Why did you come? Did you mean what you said in your note? Did you mess up the formula for Oxytocin on purpose? Why didn’t you say anything back the night I said those words? Why didn’t you run after me in your underwear? Why-

Even pecks him one more time.

“See you soon, Isak.”

“See you.”

.

Isak spends his nights in Even’s shirts.