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who i have is what i carry home

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Walking the streets of Oslo in autumn is therapeutic, Isak decides, the Brockhampton song playing through his earphones somehow sounding better with the rhythmic crunch of leaves beneath his feet.


There was something about this season that always appealed to Isak. The way the leaves change colour, the way the sky turns a little darker, how the days begin to grow shorter. It’s comforting to him, and it is always a welcome change of pace from summer.


Isak had never liked summer. It’s full of unapologetic sunlight and loud pop music; it has an incessant buzz that irritates him above all else. Frankly, Isak finds it to be far too exposing. It has a speed to it that always overwhelmed him with its lack of structure. There are no classes, there’s no routine, no one to hang out with because everyone’s on vacation with their families. And, in summers past, it’s hasn’t ever exactly been like Isak’s parents were interested in the three of them playing catch on Marbella beach.


Autumn, however, is gentle, it’s cold, and any insecurities or worries Isak has can be muffled beneath several layers of sweaters and jackets. The quiet that comes with the change of the season is heaven to him. The world just seems to slow a little when the air is chillier, which is why winter is his favourite season. Autumn is the prelude to winter. Isak wasn’t necessarily a Christmas person; he had what many would call a “complex relationship with religion”, but winter has a certain feeling to it that Isak can’t help but find endearing. There’s something soothing in how the below 0 temperatures freeze everything over, drowns it in snow, and leaves it clean for the New Year. Isak was decidedly indifferent to spring, and was unlike others in that he didn’t see it as the dawn of new life and new beginnings; he saw those qualities in winter, in the comfort of long nights.


Despite this, the summer hadn’t been too shit, if he were to be fair. Isak had spent the majority of it working, which, okay, hadn’t been ideal, but his boss was chill and working at a café was just about as unthreatening as a job can get. He worked as many hours as he could, because honestly what the fuck else was there to do. He spent the few days and nights he had off work drifting between friends, depending on who was around. Vilde and Magnus had insisted on making dinner for him every Thursday, which had been an interesting experience and one of the stranger rituals he’d partaken in, but not one he would trade. Eva and Jonas had even invited him to spend a few days up at a cabin together, which Isak politely declined, wanting to stay just about as far away from that idea as possible. However, he had managed to keep busy enough all the same, spending the occasional day with his friends, the way he needs to in order to keep them from worrying about him. However, for the most part, summer had been tiring. It had been too hot, too long and gave him far too much time to think. 25 degrees in Oslo was practically unheard of and bordered on tropical for Isak’s Scandinavian composition. He didn’t like sweating, he didn’t like uncommitted t-shirt tans and he didn’t like the fact that if he left the apartment without sunscreen he’d be stuck with a stinging, red face for 72 hours.


It had been his 20th summer, and it had pushed him into his 20th autumn with what Jonas liked to call a “bad attitude”. Apparently only leaving your apartment for work or when your eccentric roommate drags you out of bed is not “cute” and is more a sign of “depression” than a “fun character trait”.


Isak had raised his eyebrows and scoffed at his friends’ dramatics, he didn’t think he had a bad attitude; maybe he wasn’t as happy as he could be, but he had never really been known for his optimism. Isak was an introvert at heart, that’s all it was. Sure, he could excel in social situations, and sure, he had a lot of friends, but he liked his own company. He had grown up that way, he didn’t need anyone else, and he still lived like that in his 20th year.


So here Isak was, on his way to work. University had already started a few weeks ago, but he decided he needed the extra cash, so he figured he would stay on until Christmas. Eskild was going to take over after that, they had decided, and take the evening shifts. He had explained to Isak that his day job at the theatre and his part-time commitment to trying to become an Instagram influencer, the nature of which Isak couldn’t even begin to understand, weren’t going to keep the lights of their apartment on, so one of them needed to slave the days away in a middle class, overpriced coffee house.


Isak loved living with Eskild. He would never, ever, admit it, but in the four years that they’d lived together now, he had become a brother to Isak, his chosen family, as Eskild had once drunkenly called it. Isak didn’t even want to fight him on it, he had realised long ago that he would choose Eskild over his father any day. He would of course never, ever, tell Eskild this, but something told Isak that he already knew.


So, Isak was on his way to his boring fucking job for the hundredth time since June. He was wearing brand new Nikes he had bought with a fraction of his salary and letting the autumn wind turn his sculpted cheeks pink. Isak fucking loved his new shoes. He wasn’t exactly the type of person for splurge purchases, but one night Frank Ocean’s song Nikes had come on shuffle, and had possessed his right hand into pressing the order button, he justified to Eskild, who scoffed at the sight of the all-white kicks.


“You do realise those shoes mean we can’t have takeout for the coming two Saturday’s?” He had pouted, stomping his foot like an eleven year old as he continued, “Isak, how can you take my Dominoes Pizza deluxe meal deal with extra cinnamon sticks away from me like this? I literally can’t even look at you. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”


“I’m a guy with cool fucking shoes.” Isak had shrugged back. His shoes were objectively cool and he had earned them, he decided.


And his shoes were his last thought before he pushed open the door of the KB he had sold his soul to many months ago.


“Isak! Hey!”


His co-worker, a tiny girl called Emma with pixie-cut, greeted as he crossed the café to the bar, already tying his apron around his waist.


Isak smiled back, the sort of tight-lipped reflex he employed to respond to others when he couldn’t be bothered to really speak.


“Good weekend?”


“Sure, yeah.”


The weekend had actually not been good. At all. On Saturday, Isak had planned to go on a date with this guy he had met at the library. Which, Isak thought, was a very respectable place for a meet-cute.


Turned out, however, that the guy was fucking weird. The whole dinner had been a train wreck, where the guy just talked about nothing for what felt like hours, but what Isak’s phone mockingly reminded him was just 45 minutes. The guy wasn’t even interesting. And it didn’t matter how attractive he was, Isak was not ever having sex with someone that irritating. It simply went against everything he stood for. He would never disrespect his dick like that.


It got so bad that he had to sneak a text to Jonas under the table and ask him to call him, which he did. Isak used the phone call to pretend there was a family emergency and get the fuck out of there. He then went home and found himself being coerced into watching America’s Next Top Model with Eskild and Vilde, who was, for some god-forsaken reason, at their apartment for a wine night with the older man.


Isak had had hopes for that date, he had douched and everything. It was all very frustrating and he was feeling a little sorry for himself. He hadn’t had sex for about three months, and it wasn’t fun. Isak had spent eighteen years celibate, and he wasn’t interested in revisiting that, thank you very much.


Isak spent the next three hours with his best customer service smile planted on, taking orders from busy business women and men, and the occasional hipster. Fucking hipsters with their obnoxious haircuts and pretentious outfits, thinking having a caramel latte is a substitute for a personality or something. Gathering by the flock to sit around a table and talk about something like whales or the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race or whatever it is that’s trending at the moment.


And of course there, before him, is suddenly the most hipster fuck of them all.


Jonas raised his eyebrows at Isak’s amused smirk over the hardwood bar dividing them.


“’Sup, man. Can I have a caramel latte?”


Because, of course.


Isak laughed to himself as he scribbled his best friends name over the side of the cup and relayed the order to Emma, who was behind him making drinks.


The afternoon rush had settled and there were only a few people left in the café, which Jonas would have already known before showing up. He had gotten into a routine of keeping Isak company at work, where he would just sit in the café and chat to Isak for an hour or so about whatever was relevant on the day. Isak thought Jonas favoured hanging out with Isak at work because the blond couldn’t escape or call him a fucking idiot when he said something stupid.


“How are the new roommates?” Isak asked, suddenly remembering that Jonas had moved into a new apartment this semester. Jonas had lived with Isak and Eskild for a little while, seeing as it had been their second year at university and he was sick of living at home, but he had moved into a new apartment with some new friends that he met at university over the summer. He justified it to Isak as being because their apartment was closer to his side of campus, which was ideal as they were going into their third and final year and studying needed to become slightly more of a priority. Isak also believed there might have maybe been just so much gay sex that Jonas could handle hearing through the thin walls of their apartment.


“They’re fucking chill, man. I kinda love them, I think.”


Isak looked up from the cash register where he was lazily counting tips. “Should I be jealous?”


Jonas threw his head back and laughed, “Nah, you’re still my number one.”


Isak grinned back and winked, “And don’t you forget it.”


“How’s Eva?” He added, actually interested in how his friend was doing, seeing as he hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks.


“She’s good. Her mom’s got a new boyfriend or something, which is weird, but-”


Jonas’s phone then chose that moment to start ringing, so Isak gestured for the curly-haired boy to take it, and went back to his tips.


They were minimal, to say the least. Which meant he was going to have to have cereal for dinner again, which, okay, wasn’t the worst thing in the world, because fruit loops are a keystone feature of any balanced diet, but Isak had been kinda hoping that he would’ve been tipped enough to grab a meal from the Turkish snack-bar across the street, however, alas, fruit loops it was.


Shoving the loose change back into the tin, Isak’s attention drifted to what Jonas was saying into his phone.


“No, I haven’t asked him yet.”


“Well, I was about to, but then you fucking called.”


“No, I don’t think it would be easier if he met him first. Dude, you cannot ‘scope him out’ before I ask! You’re the one who suggested this in the first place!”


Isak raised his eyebrows and Jonas’s weirdly animated phone call. He was probably talking to Magnus, who wanted to ask about some weird sex thing for Vilde, or something equally upsetting. Isak vowed to himself he would never, ever, be giving the two of them sex advice again after the incident at dinner last month. It wasn’t something Isak ever wanted to think about for the rest of life, he would never be able to eat chicken casserole again.


“I’m gonna ask him now, okay. Yeah… Sure, sounds good. Nah, I’ll pick some up on the way home…Bye man, see you tonight.”


Isak kept his eyebrows raised as he watched Jonas switch off the phone and set it back down on the table in front of him. He still hadn’t looked at Isak, and seemed to be taking a deep breath, as if he was preparing himself for something.


When he finally did turn to face Isak, he found that he was already staring right at him expectantly.


“Hey, Isak,” Jonas said smiling, and Isak knew that voice. Isak invented that voice. It’s the sweet as honey because I really, really want something, voice.


Isak didn’t change his expression, only continued to look at Jonas with an amused curiosity, inviting him to continue to grovel.


“So, you know how I have moved into a new apartment.”




“And you know how I live with these two guys, the politics major and the film studies major?”


“Sure.” Isak offered, taking a sip from the straw of the iced coffee Emma had made him a little while earlier.


“I need you to have sex with the film studies major.”


Isak choked.


“Excuse me?”


Jonas climbed quickly out of his seat, moving closer to Isak to continue the conversation, as his spit-take had drawn some attention from the remaining few customers.


“Hear me out, before you say no.”


Isak was still coughing slightly and his face had taken on an incredulous expression.


“His name is Even, he’s 23, newly single, he’s attractive, and he really fucking needs a win right now. He’s been moping for weeks and it’s driving Mikael and I insane.”


Isak was looking at him with his so what face.


“Isak, you need to do this for me, as a friend.”


“Jonas,” Isak started, looking at the dark-haired boy as if he was suddenly speaking Russian or something.


“What the FUCK, dude? I’m not going to have sex with your roommate!”


“But I asked so nicely!”


“Oh, my god. You are such a baby! Why can’t somebody else sleep with him? Don’t you know any other gay guys?”


“Well, not really! Not ones that I trust with Even, he’s a nice guy! I don’t want someone hurting him again.”


Isak couldn’t help but start laughing. This was ridiculous. “Jonas, I love you, I do. But I will not,” and he put just about all the emphasis he could on the word, “fuck your friend because you pity him. That is pathetic.”


“But Mikael and I have tried everything! Nothing cheers him up! And our final gesture as good friends is to get him laid! Come on, man.”


“So find someone else for him to sleep with, what’s the big deal?”


Jonas seems to consider this a moment, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek before he seems to concede. “I just think that, maybe, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, for you to have some sex yourself.”


That sent Isak’s eyebrows right to his hairline. “Excuse me?”


“You haven’t had sex in months,”


The audacity of this bitch.


“And I think,” Jonas continued, “It’s made you a little,”


Don’t say it.




He said it.


Isak scoffs loudly.


“You are a fucking asshole.” He exclaims as he swats at him from across the bar with a cleaning cloth.


Jonas is unfazed as he raises a hopeful left eyebrow. “So will you do it?”


“NO!” Isak almost yelled back in frustration, getting a few pointed looks from Emma and the few remaining customers.


“It would be nice, man. You know, Even is super cool. I like him a lot!”


“If he’s so nice, why can’t you have sex with him?”


“I have a girlfriend!”


Well, fair enough, Isak supposed. But, he still wasn’t going to do it. Have sex with his best friends roommate just because he’s down? He had to be joking.


“Is that Mikael who called? Are you guys like,” Isak waved both hands between them frantically, “trying to set your best friends up to keep them from bothering you?”


He was almost offended.


“No! It’s not like that. Look, if you don’t wanna do it, fine, whatever, I’m not gonna force you. I’m just saying you should think about it. Even will be at the party on Friday, you can meet him then. At least say hi before you completely write the idea off. Okay?”


Isak considered Jonas for a second. “Okay.” He replied, mockingly, mimicking Jonas’s voice. “But I guarantee you, I will not have sex with that guy.”


Jonas smirked, “Sure.”


“Don’t say it like that!”


“I’m not saying it like anything.” Jonas said, still smirking as he turned around to pack the phone and notebook he had laid out on the table behind him.


“Yes you are!”


“Goodbye, Isak.” Jonas smiled, walking backwards toward the exit of the café.


“I hate you!” Isak called after him as Jonas turned to step out into the autumn air.


“I love you, too!”




Isak worked the last thirty minutes of his shift scrubbing down tables and thinking about how fucking annoying his best friend is. Sleep with his roommate? It was almost insulting.


The rest of his day was fairly good, by normal standards; he didn’t end up having to have fruit loops for dinner because Noora came over to spend some “quality time” with her “favourite gays” and ended up making the three of them dinner, which was nice. He wouldn’t go so far as to say it was delicious, because it was quinoa and salmon, which didn’t really suit Isak as he had the palette of a child, but it wasn’t bad, and he actually did eat all of it to prove a point after Eskild offered to cut it into baby pieces and feed it to him.


Noora told them about how things were going at William’s new job, and about how he had bought her flowers and made her dinner the other day. Isak had to hold back a laugh at the thought that this was the romantic life of his friends, meanwhile he had spent the afternoon explaining to his best friend why he wouldn’t pity fuck his lonely roommate. Eskild then saw the arrival of the topic of love as an invitation to embark on an all too graphic recap of his recent sexual encounters and the date he had coming up next week. Isak had half a mind to recommend to Jonas that he give this Even guy Eskild’s number, he’d probably be more than willing.




The rest of the week was fairly uneventful, and he didn’t waste any time at all considering Jonas’s proposition, if not only once or twice to laugh at the memory.


It had been a good week, in comparison to others in recent months. He visited his mom on Wednesday, and she was well, or as well as one can be in a care home. He didn’t even get a string of texts from his Dad checking in, so, yes, this was a good week.


He wore his new Nikes again on Friday. He clocked out of work at 19:00, and headed straight to the store to buy a six-pack of beers, before slipping onto the tram with his earphones in, heading to Vilde and Magnus’s apartment for pre-drinks before they all headed to whatever party Vilde had managed to get them on the list for this week. Isak loved this part of uni life, the constant going out. He was always sufficiently drunk every weekend and it was wonderful. It let his mind fall quiet from the constant nagging thoughts of his parents, assignments, and the nature of the seasons. His mind had always run a mile a minute, and he didn’t have a particularly good relationship with it. On Friday nights, however, he got to turn it off and hang out with his friends.


“Jonas isn’t here?” Isak asked, after flopping down on Magnus and Vilde’s couch between Mahdi and Chris.


“Nah, he’s doing pregame with his roommates, I think.”


Isak only nodded in return in the direction of the responding voice, remembering that Jonas had mentioned it over text on Wednesday. Only after he had reminded Isak of how his roommate, Even, would be there Friday.


Fucking Even.


Isak didn’t even know the guy and he already resented him. He couldn’t wait to just say hi to him, in front of Jonas, of course, just to prove to his annoying best friend that he had no interest, and then get the fuck on with it.


After chatting mindlessly with his friends for a few more minutes, Isak realized he had somehow already managed to finish his beer, Isak headed to the kitchen for a new one.


“I heard the boys want you to sleep with Even.” Sana’s voice spoke coolly from where she was leaned against the radiator, watching Isak as he bent over to reach into the fridge.


And fucking hell.


You’re in on this?”


I’m not in on anything,” She said, popping a cheeto into her mouth and biting into it, “I just overheard Yousef talking about it with Mikael about it yesterday in the library.”


“I hate these guys. They do realise that I’m perfectly capable of finding my own dates, right?”


“You don’t hate them, you’ve never even met Mikael. And I’m not sure dating is exactly what they want from you.” She smirks.


Isak narrows his eyes. “You know what I mean.”


Sana concedes; “I think it’s Even they’re more worried about.”


Right. Sad, forlorn Even and his supposed loneliness. What about Isak and what he wanted? He was clearly a victim here, too.


“Why do they want him to hook up so badly anyway?”


“He and his girlfriend broke up a few months ago, in the middle of the spring semester. Yousef said he’s pretty upset about it, but he hasn’t explored the idea of a rebound yet. They think he just needs a push.”

“Can’t they just push him onto someone else?”


Sana’s eyes glimmer with something that tells Isak she may know something he doesn’t.


“Even’s the best, Isak. I think you’d like him. In fact, I know you would.”


“You do realise that the more you all insist I do something, the less likely I am to do it.”


“Yes, I do, because you’re a stubborn little bitch. But, I do think it’s stupid anyway. He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself and find his own dates.”


And Isak wasn’t going to argue with that.


“Cheers to that.” Isak says, colliding his beer can with the cheeto puff between Sana’s fingers before reaching into the bag she’s holding to try and steal one, however she quickly pulls it out of reach and points a serious finger at him.






The party is loud. So fucking loud, and Isak’s already managed to spill a bit of beer down his white t-shirt and black skinny jeans. There are easily a hundred people jammed into this house, and it’s great. Isak loves parties like these, the type where the lights are dimmed; the music is obnoxiously loud, where there are so many faces that they’re all somehow blurred amongst each other in the swirl of it all.


There’s something dreamlike to it, it’s as if you step into a different reality where all that really matters can exist within these walls. The rest of the world can just wait until tomorrow.


And yeah, maybe Isak is already tipsy, or at least Eva tells him that as she laughs at his late night existentialism.


“Where is Jonas? I need boyfriend.” She comments suddenly like a toddler, standing up from the kitchen counter they were both sat on.


“Really good sentence, Eva. ‘I need boyfriend.’”


“You’re just jealous, Issy.”


“Of your bad grammar? I don’t think so.”


“No,” She says pointedly, grabbing at Jonas who has somehow magically appeared in the doorway, sharing a knowing look with Isak as they both fondly watch Eva continue to talk drunkenly.

“Of my beautiful boyfriend.” She finishes, smacking a punctuating kiss to Jonas’s cheek.


“Sure, yes, I’m painfully jealous of whatever this,” he gestures to the couple in front of him, who aren’t even listening anymore as Jonas tries to get her to stand upright, “…is.” He finishes to himself, looking around from where he’s sat over the great expanse of the open-plan kitchen that extends into a packed living room.


And he’s just about to climb down from where he’s sat as Eva and Jonas stumble away in the direction of the staircase, when he locks eyes with someone across the room, and it’s so striking and surprising that Isak almost falls.


Because, fuck. This guy is hot. Hot to a point that Isak can barely believe he’s ever used that word to describe anyone else before because they weren’t hot, if this is what hot is. Because, shit, this guy has perfectly styled blond hair and full lips and god, Isak just wants to touch.


He barely has to think twice before he’s making his way across the room, beer forgotten on the marble countertop.


Isak reaches him in a matter of seconds, and holy fuck, he’s somehow taller than Isak and he’s looking at him with something in his eyes that makes the shorter boy feel a bit dizzy, in a way that’s somehow more intoxicating than the alcohol he’d been drinking.


“Hey,” the hot guy speaks, before Isak gets the chance.




And its all Isak can think to say, all the game he has ever had somehow not even beginning to surface as he takes in the colour of the guys’ eyes. Blue. Pretty.


The boy seems to notice Isak’s lingering gaze because he takes a step closer, backing Isak toward a wall, and suddenly Isak forgets he’s in a room filled with people, because all he can see is the body in front of him.


And Isak wants to ask him his name, or why he’s here, or whom he’s come with, because he does know how to hold a conversation like a functioning human being, he does. He just forgets that when the stranger slides his hand around Isak to rest on the small of his back as he whispers into his ear to combat the volume of the music.


“Cool shoes.” The guy says.


And it’s not what Isak expected, but it shakes him out of his weird haze as he glances down at his clean Nikes. “Thanks.” He smiles back, making a brief mental note to Eskild to go fuck himself for ever questioning the necessity of these sneakers.


Isak then notices that the boy is wearing the same pair. “Same to you.”


“Seems we both have great taste.”


“Oh, I don’t know about that, I’m not sure about this.” Isak replies teasingly, gesturing to the blue bandana wrapped around the boys’ head.


The boy feigns hurt, bringing the hand that was resting on Isak’s back to his chest, and Isak aches a little at the loss of contact.


“I’ll have you know I have impeccable taste.” He says, taking another step toward Isak, and they’re far too close together for Isak to not slip his eyes shut for a second at just how fucking smooth this guys’ voice is.


“Oh really, what’s your taste?” Isak speaks, remembering he does, in fact, have game as he tilts his head up and looks at Even from beneath his eyelashes.


“You.” He says simply, rubbing his nose against Isak’s gently, and it’s all too inviting for Isak to not lean in and kiss him.


The kiss is immediately hungry, and the taller boy immediately grabs at Isak’s waist as he slides his hands around the boys neck and up into his perfect hair. Isak pulls at it when the other boy licks into his mouth, making him moan, and Isak suddenly can’t feel his legs.


The boy seems to sense this as he holds Isak even tighter, dragging one hand down to grab at Isak’s ass, pulling his lips away from Isak’s to trail wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck. And Isak is in heaven, pushed up against the wall as this god-like boy wrecks him slowly in the crowded room. It dawns on Isak that he’s exchanged about three words with the guy, but then he digs his teeth right into that sensitive spot where Isak’s shoulder meets his neck and he doesn’t care.


The boy pulls back after that, his eyelids heavy and his lips swollen as he mumbles against Isak’s lips.


“Told you.”


“Huh?” Isak pants.


“We have the same taste.”


Isak’s still too far gone to understand and the boy seems to realise this as he backs Isak right into the wall again, his head hitting brick so hard it almost hurts, but then the boy slides his hands around Isak’s waist beneath his shirt and presses his hard-on into Isak’s thigh and oh, now he gets it. “Because it seems like you want me just as much as I want you.”


Because, yes, of course Isak is currently hard in his jeans, and it’s extremely uncomfortable, thank you very much.


Isak realises he’s been a bit too quiet throughout this entire ordeal and recalls that it’s usually him who has other guys forgetting how to speak, so he hooks his fingers through the boys’ jeans and grinds into him as he whispers against his mouth, “Take me home.”


The boy moans briefly at the demand, and damn, Isak could listen to that noise all night. So, when the boy takes his hand and starts dragging him toward through the crowd toward the exit, he follows without question.


Shockingly, they do not make it that far.


They make it to the bathroom nearest the exit, and Isak finds himself being slammed back against the door the second it closes.


“This isn’t what I meant when I said take me home?”


“Don’t care.”


“You live here?”


“In this bathroom? Yeah.”


“That’s not what I meant.”


“I know, but I’m not waiting til we can get across town.”


And suddenly the boy’s sucking a mark into Isak’s neck and the talking dissolves into pants and moans.


“God, you’re so fucking hot.” The boy basically whines into the kiss, and yeah, Isak is fucked.


Isak brings his hand to the boys jaw and uses it to force his mouth open, licking hungrily as his other hand reaches behind him to lock the door.


They continue like that for a minute, before the boy suddenly seems to pull back slightly, something other than sex taking residence in his eyes.


“I forgot to ask, what’s your name?”


He continues trailing kisses down Isak’s neck after he’s spoken and the shorter boy can’t help but melt even further into the boys’ touch.


“Isak.” He somehow manages.


“Isak.” The guy repeats, grabbing at Isak’s thighs and picking him up.


Isak wraps his legs around the boys’ waist, leaving biting kisses down his neck as he speaks, “What’s yours?”


The boy moves to push Isak’s back against the door again, making him want to fucking cry when he realises it’s so that he can hold Isak up with no hands. Using the freedom to cup his cheeks and kiss him even deeper, and Isak can’t help but moan desperately into the kiss. Was this guy even real?


“It’s Even,” the boy breathes into Isak’s mouth. “My name is Even.”


And Isak suddenly pulls back, holding the boy by the shoulders at arms length, forcing the taller boy to release his face and hold his waist instead.






“Are you sure?”


The boy cocks his head to the side, his words still coming out in pants as both boys struggle to regain their breath, “Am I sure my name is Even?”




“I am sure my name is Even. Are you sure your name is Isak?”


And for a moment, Isak really fucking wishes it wasn’t.


“You’re Jonas and Mikael’s’ roommate?” Isak asks quickly, already knowing the answer.


“Yeah, you know them?”


Isak throws his head back and slams it against the wall in exasperation, because really, this is just his luck. It’s just his fucking luck.


“No!” Even suddenly says, realisation dawning over his face, his beautiful fucking face.


“Yes!” Isak exclaims, still looking at the ceiling, as if somehow trying to communicate with God.


“You’re Jonas’s friend. The one they were all nagging me about sleeping with?”


And Isak thinks Even should write his Wikipedia page, because yeah, guess that’s me.


“Well, shit.” Even says.


“I know.” Isak replies, levelling his gaze with Even’s, suddenly very aware of the fact he’s literally wrapped around him with his hard dick pressed into his stomach.


Even seems to read his mind because he quickly sets him down, the two of them running hands through their hair, seemingly trying to cool off from what had been a rather heated encounter several moments ago.


This was ridiculous. Jonas couldn’t have mentioned that his roommate was James Dean reincarnate or something? What a fucking dick.


“We can’t have sex, can we?” Even suddenly says, disappoint thick in his voice, as he once again, reads Isak’s mind.


Isak shakes his head immediately.


“I cannot give them that kind of satisfaction.”


“Right. Me neither.” Even adds quickly, nodding with Isak.

“No matter how much I may want to.” He adds, looking at Even again, his hands burning a little at the very need to touch.


Even licks his lips as he considers Isak’s words. And Isak knows how easy it would be for the two of them to stay in here and finish what they started, but Isak also knows he will have to face Even again after this, and he knows Jonas would see right through him, and he loves sex, sure, and this Even guy was gorgeous, sure, but being right was still more important. Or at least that’s what he repeats in his head over and over as he stands face to face with the boy.


And Even seems to feel the same way because he didn’t make a move to argue, which Isak wasn’t at all disappointed about. Like, at all. Because whatever right? He can have sex with someone else; it’s no big deal.


“So, no sex then.” Even says, leaning back on his heels.


“No sex.” Isak nods.










They stand like that for another moment, looking at one another almost as if they were daring the other to break. Waiting for one of them to just say fuck it, but it turns out they’re both as stubborn as each other, and Isak can’t decide whether that makes him even more attracted to him or not.


But then there’s a loud knocking at the door.


“Isak? You in there?”


And fuck, it’s Jonas.


“Uh, yeah, just using the bathroom for a sec.” He shouts back, spinning around to yell at the bathroom door.


“Okay, Eva and I are gonna head- I’ll text you tomorrow!”


“Okay! Bye!”


And when Isak exhales and turns back around, Even is fully smirking at him.


“What’s so funny?”                                   


“Nothing, you’re just cute when you’re flustered.”


And for fucks sake, Even wasn’t going to make this easy for him.


“I-, you-, you shut up.” Isak replies, pointing at him.


“I don’t think it’s customary to tell someone you just met to shut up.”


“Well I don’t think it’s customary to have your tongue down their throat either, so.”


Even blushes a little at that, and Isak would consider it a win, but it’s so damn cute that it makes Isak feel a little light-headed. So he guesses they’re both losers tonight.


“I’m gonna go.” Isak decides, realizing that being in a confined space with the person responsible for him currently being half-hard in his pants is probably not the best thing for him right now.


“You probably should.”


“Yes. Well. It was, uh, nice to meet you, Even.”


Even seems to find something about that funny because he starts laughing, probably because they had been about two minutes from having sex just minutes ago, and now Isak was sharing niceties with him. Funnily enough, the irony was not lost on Isak, either.


Even steps forward with his arm extended, grinning in a way that makes Isak feel something in stomach, before he accepts his hand and shakes it as Even speaks; “It was nice to meet you too, Isak.”


And with that, Even unlocks the door behind Isak and steps out into the party, the force of the sudden noise and darkness making Isak flinch for a second, he had forgotten they weren’t the only people here, for a moment.


“I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” Even calls as he walks backwards into the crowd, Isak watching him as he slowly dissolves into the swirl of people.


Yeah, I guess so, Isak thinks.


And shit, this was going to be a real fucking problem.