“I love you,” he says and for a split second his heart beats a little faster, a little more steady. Robbe holds his eyes, his fingers pressed softly against his hand, his breath a warm puff against his skin.
Sander tries to believe, tries to trust. He holds Robbe’s eyes for as long as he can, until the voice in his head screams at him and then he drops his head, breaks eye contact, and breaks the spell.
He can’t love him, not really. There’s nothing in him worth loving.
“That’s what you say now. Sooner or later, I’ll hurt you and you’ll hate me.”
He sees the disappointment on Robbe’s face, feels his sigh more than he hears it and in it a confirmation.
See, the voice in his head says, you’re already letting him down.
Except Robbe doesn’t leave, instead he pulls him up with soothing words and lets him break down in his arms.
Sander cries, and Robbe holds him and for once the voice in his head is quiet.
“I’m so happy I’ve found you,” Robbe says and Sander understands. He is found.
He has never felt more found than in this moment, on a cold floor, tears burning his eyes, exhaustion pulling on his body, and a boy’s arms around him, holding him tight.
“I love you,” he thinks, and presses his face deeper into Robbe’s neck.
“I know,” Robbe answers, fingers tangled in his hair.
Hello my love! I had fun with this one, hope you like it <3
Everyone knows about the existence of soulmates. That rare occurrence where everything aligns and you meet that one person you are meant to be with.
Isak doesn’t know anyone who has met their soulmate. Sometimes he wonders if it’s not just a story, told to keep the fear at bay, or in some cases, to keep your partner close, because what if you are soulmates?
Nonetheless, he’s spend hours looking at the spot over his heart, the little symbol there that’s supposed to change color when you meet your soulmate. He traces the loops, wondering how it would feel to meet them, the one.
Whatever he imagined before, he didn’t think it would feel like this.
*
He notices him looking, a tall figure out of the corner of his eye. As he turns his head and makes eye contact, the pain hits him like a freight train and he gasps for air.
Even in his pain, his eyes clouded over with tears, he can see the other boy in a similar state, leaning against the wall, hand pressed to his heart.
“Isak!” Jonas sounds panicked, hands flitting inches from Isak’s body like he’s not sure if he can touch or if that would make it worse.
He gasps for air again, struggling to stay alert, not to pass out from the pain.
“I’ve called an ambulance,” Mahdi’s usually calm demeanor has shifted, the panic in his voice clear.
“I need…,” Isak pushes out, trying to step forward.
Jonas’ hands shoot out, holding him steady, “what? What do you need?”
“Him,” Isak says, raising his head painfully to look at the boy once more before everything goes black.
*
He wakes up in a hospital room, head throbbing and muscles aching. The pain in his chest is a dull ache, no longer feeling like his heart is trying to rip itself apart.
“You’re awake,” a voice comes to his left, and Isak turns to look.
The boy is sitting up in the hospital bed beside him. Their beds have been shoved close together, almost touching.
“I’m Even,” his smile is soft, a bit fearful. His eyes shine, even under the cold fluorescent light and as Isak pushes himself up, he flushes under the way they rake over his body.
“Isak,” he responds finally, holding out a hand. His cheeks turn even redder when Even laughs softly before shaking his hand.
“So…,” Isak coughs, “Did all this,” he vaguely points towards his chest, “does it mean that…”
Even nods, cocking his head to the side slightly as he shrugs, “I guess it does.”
Isak copies his nod before looking around the room, “Why are we here?”
His… soulmate… looks around as well, “The doctor came in when you were still out. Apparently the whole process of soulbonding is kind of painful,” he laughs around the words and Isak rolls his eyes. Understatement of the century right there. “To make it easier on our bodies and souls, we need to stay here for one month.”
“A month?” Isak echoes, “with only the two of us?”
Even shrinks as if hit, “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. They said… they said that after the initial bonding, we can decide if we want to stay together or not. But for our own safety…” he trails off, eyes fixed on the floor.
“I didn’t,” Isak reaches out, then pulls his hand back, “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… a lot.”
“I know,” Even nods. It’s quiet for a bit before he tentatively smiles. “My mom already delivered my laptop, however, want to watch a movie?”
*
Over the next few days, they get to know each other. Even makes Isak laugh harder than he has in years, he also makes him roll his eyes and call Even an idiot. He learns Even is an only child, he’s passionate and hard-working, he’s gentle and kind, but fierce when he needs to be. Even tells him about his diagnosis and Isak holds his hand, tries to ignore how his whole body glows when he touches him.
One night, Isak wakes up to Even tossing and turning in the bed next to him.
“Even?” he whispers in the dark and Even stops moving, the silence falling over them like a blanket.
“It hurts,” Even replies finally.
Isak doesn’t say anything, just tosses his blankets off his body and closes the short distance between their two beds. He crawls into the bed next to Even, pulling him close and sighing when Even’s head finds a place in the crook of his neck.
They don’t bother crawling into separate beds after that.
*
Isak has imagined kissing Even so many times that by the time it happens, it feels like he’s been doing it forever.
It’s a -by now- normal morning, beginning with the two of them tangled into each other, and then Even kisses him. Soft, gentle, like he has all the time in the world. Which, Isak figures, he has.
“When we get out,” Isak says after hours of just soft kisses and featherlight touches, “I’m going to call you mine.”
Even smiles, brilliantly, “We’re two bodies with one soul only. You’re mine and I am yours. Forever.”
yo greatest of gayas 💕🧸 can i ask for a little snippet of robbe sander (and co if you wanna but most importantly sobbe) decorating the christmas tree? plsplspls pretty pls?
Isi! My darling! For you, anything!
Robbe is loungin on his bed, Sander a heavy, comforting weight on his chest when he hears a loud curse coming from the living room, followed by a crash and Zoë yelling Milan’s name.
“Uhm,” Sander says, pushing himself up from Robbe’s chest.
They make their way out of Robbe’s room, their socked feet rustling over the floor as they walk towards the noise.
Milan is sat on the couch, apologizing over and over to Zoë, who is bending over what seems to be a broken ornament, gently picking the glass pieces up. “It’s fine, Milan,” she says, a sense of tiredness in her voice.
“I was just trying to take a selfie,” Milan explains, “but I tripped and -”
“It’s fine,” she tells him again, straightening out and smiling, “I’ll fix it tomorrow, I’m going to bed.”
She pecks Robbe on the cheek as she passes him, “Goodnight boys.”
Milan sighs and looks over at the Christmas tree, fiddling with the Santa hat in his hands. “I was going to remake Emily Ratajkowski’s christmas tree picture, but I needed the hat.” He shrugs before getting up and throwing the hat over his shoulder on the couch. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“Are you leaving it like that?” Robbe asks, thumb pointing at the tree, standing crooked, candy canes littering the ground, the string lights somehow tangled up somewhere in the middle of the tree.
Milan looks at it too, “uhm,” he mumbles, lifting one shoulder.
Sander nods, kisses Robbe softly on the lips, “Yeah.”
“Great,” Milan happily agrees, pulling both of them in a hug before dashing out of the room before Robbe can change his mind. “I’ll come back later when you’re done.”
Robbe sighs, looking at the sad tree in front of him.
“Help me straighten it, but be careful not to step on anything that’s still on the floor,” Sander tells him, already wedging his body in between the wall and the tree, only slightly grimacing as the needles puncture his skin.
Robbe follows his lead, stepping back when the tree is straight again. It still looks sad, but at least it doesn’t look as bad as before. He’s trying to assess what he should do next to fix the tree, when suddenly soft Christmas music fills the room.
He spins towards Sander, smile already forming on his lips. “Bublé?”
Sander shrugs, “You have to respect your classics.”
They stand there for a beat, grinning at each other, not speaking, before Sander steps forward.
Robbe tilts his head, expecting to be kissed, but instead Sander places the Santa hat on top of his head. He can’t help but pout as Sander steps backwards again to admire his handiwork.
“Beautiful,” he says, before sidestepping Robbe once more and bending down to retrieve the ornament lying on the floor.
They work in silence for a bit, the soft Christmas music surrounding them as they untangle the lights and re-hang the ornaments.
Milan walks back in just as they’re finishing up, “Good work, guys!” he compliments, standing behind them.
Robbe picks up another ornament, steps back from the tree and then closer again. Sander can’t help the fond smile overtaking his face as he watches his boyfriend meticulously hang the ornaments.
“I’ll send you the picture,” Milan says, startling Robbe into turning around. “Now get out, I need to take my selfie.”
“You’re welcome,” Robbe grumbles, grabbing Sander’s hand as he pulls him back to his room.
“Thank you, you’re the best!” Milan yells after them.
Seconds later, Robbe’s phone pings with a notification, the picture Milan took.
“So serious,” Sander comments, chin hooked over Robbe’s shoulder to look at his screen.
Robbe hums, stays quiet and Sander waits, begins to know that look in Robbe’s eyes when there’s more to say but he’s looking for words.
They settle back on the bed, Sander’s phone still playing soft Christmas tunes.
“You know when we met, and you asked me about family traditions?” Robbe asks, breaking the silence.
Sander hums from his place in Robbe’s neck, his fingers curled around his necklace.
“There was one,” Robbe continues, than falls quiets for a bit again. “I would always decorate the tree with my mom,” his voice sounds far away, “we would get up in the morning, take down all the boxes and decorate the tree. I was young, small…” he interrupts himself, pokes Sander in the side before he can even open his mouth, “shut up!”
Sander laughs but obediently doesn’t say a word.
“I couldn’t reach the top of the tree so most of the ornaments I would hang, ended up at the bottom,” he laughs softly, “it would look like a hot mess. And then I would go to sleep and in the morning, the tree would look beautiful. All the ornaments would suddenly be hung almost perfectly.”
He’s quiet again, lost in his memory, “It wasn’t until later I realized my mom stayed up late to re-hang all the ornaments to make sure our tree didn’t look like a child exploded in it.”
“Did you mind?” Sander asks and feels Robbe shake his head.
“Nah, I didn’t realize then and now I get it,” he shrugs, Sander’s body following the motion, “It’s nice to have control over one pretty thing in your life.”
Sander hums, wraps his arms tighter around Robbe. “I liked decorating the tree with you.”
“Me too,” Robbe agrees, hands rustling through Sander’s hair, “Let’s do it again next year.”
Sander pushes himself up to look at Robbe, “I’d like that,” he nods before bending down and kissing him.
Eliott yawns as he steps out onto the streets, stretching his back from being hunched over his desk all day. He had to meet a deadline today, and as always he’d been postponing it until the last minute, preferring to spend as much time as possible in bed with Lucas during the weekend. So, as a result he had holed himself up in one of the art rooms in between classes, and hadn’t checked his phone all day.
Lucas (12:14): Will you come to mine tonight?
Lucas (12:16): I can come to you too, if you prefer
Lucas (14:17): I tried to convince Manon to cook for us but she’s refusing :( Take out okay?
Lucas (14:26): I did get us some sparkling wine though, I know you like that <3
Lucas (15:00): Actually, can I come to yours? Mika is being annoying and I want it to be just us tonight
Lucas (15:18): Eliott?
Lucas (15:19): nvm you’re probably working on your project. Let me know when you’re home
Lucas (18:23): right, i’ll be at home when you need me
Eliott frowned at the messages. While he had expected some messages from Lucas, seeing as they normally went a whole day without talking, he wasn’t really sure why Lucas wanted to eat together tonight. As far as he could tell it was just a normal Monday, not really an occasion to buy sparkling wine.
He bites his lip as he opens instagram, hoping to find clues before he reaches out to Lucas.
It hits him right in the face as he clicks on Lucas’ instagram story and he gasps out loud, earning him stares from the people around him.
“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath before he starts down the street, legs going as fast as they can in their hurry to get to Lucas.
When Mika opens the door to the coloc, he frowns at him, “He’s in a foul mood.”
Eliott nods, brushing past Mika and making his way into Lucas’ room.
“I didn’t realise you counted today as our anniversary,” he says, right as he enters the room.
Lucas’ head snaps up from his laptop. His eyes narrow, “What do you consider our anniversary?”
“The 28th of March,” Eliott replies, without having to think about it.
“What?”
“When we first said ‘I love you’, when I knew for sure you were the one. We were finally honest with each other then,” he shrugs, tentatively stepping closer to Lucas, “No more secrets, just understanding and love.”
“Oh,” Lucas breathes, and then, “the sparkling wine is in the fridge, still. You should get it before Mika steals it. I’ll order the food in the meantime.”
“Do you… do you forgive me?” Eliott asks, hesitation in his voice.
Lucas beckons him closer, pulling him into a kiss as soon as he is within reach. “I love you. We’ll just have to celebrate two anniversaries from now on.”
Eliott grins, “I’ll arrange the next one.”
“No boats,” Lucas warns as Eliott steps out of the room.
“I can’t promise anything,” Eliott calls over his shoulder, shutting the door behind him while Lucas yells out “No boats!”
Eliott smiles, he wasn’t planning on getting a boat. A hotel room though… maybe...
Hey i’m really craving isak/eskild friendship fics so maybe 6 (friendship list) + isak & eskild? Only if you want💕
Hi nonnie! Hope you like this <3
Isak knocks on the door to the Kollektivet. Once. Twice. Another two times in rapid succession.
Finally he hears noise from behind the door.
“I’m coming,” Eskild yells out before pulling the door open, “I swear, Isak, you don’t visit me for weeks and then you just-” he cuts himself off when he sees Isak’s face. “Okay, go sit down, I’ll be right there,” he motions to the living room before moving back into his room.
A moment passes and he comes back out of the room, closely followed by a guy. “If I leave now, you don’t get to call me again,” the guy says, face annoyed, arms crossed.
“I know,” Eskild simply answers, opening the door for the guy to step through.
“I could’ve came back later,” Isak says when Eskild sits down next to him. Though, truthfully, he doesn’t move to get up from his seat.
“Don’t be silly, I’m your guru,” Eskild replies, smiling.
Isak nods, looking down at his hands in his lap.
“What happened?” Eskild asks, voice soft, “Is Even okay?” When Isak shrugs, Eskild continues, “Did you guys fight?” Isak shakes his head. “Is he hurt?” Another headshake. Eskild is quiet for a bit before, “Are you overthinking things and panicking?” Isak shrugs and Eskild breathes out in a sigh.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Eskild is quick to reassure him, “I’m here for you. I got your back.” He says the last sentence like he’s a rapper trying to earn street cred, actually punching Isak on the arm.
Isak laughs, rolling his eyes, grateful for the way Eskild can read him.
“What happened?”
Isak inhales deeply before making eye contact with Eskild. “We were over at his university. They had kind of an awards-thing, and of course Even won something.” Isak shrugs, small, proud smile on his lips. “Afterwards there was a reception and all these people came to talk to Even,” he stops, breathes, “you know how he is. How he brightens up every room he’s in.”
Eskild hums, “Were you jealous?”
“No,” the answer comes instantaneously, without having to think, “I was proud.”
“So what happened?” Eskild prods again, cocking his head in confusion.
Isak frowns down at his hands. “You know, when my dad left mamma, I thought all kinds of things.”
Eskild stays quiet, trying to follow the change in subject.
“I wondered if it was my fault. I blamed the illness. I got angry at my dad for being weak. I felt like love must be a lie,” he bites the inside of his cheek, sighs, “and then I met Even, and everything started to make more sense.”
“How so?” Eskild asks.
“He made me see that it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t even the illness’ fault, in a way it wasn’t my dad’s fault. He made me see that love is something you need to fight for and work on.”
Eskild nods, “I believe so too, yeah.”
“And I see him, standing there in the spotlight, and in the moment I’m so proud of him. But then, late at night, when I’m lying in bed, all I can think about is: when will the other shoe drop? When will he leave me? When will I fuck up?” His eyes shine with unshed tears, “I’ve never had a good example of love, Eskild,” he almost whispers, “I don’t know how to do this.”
Eskild crowds into his space, pulling Isak to him in a bone crushing hug. “Oh, baby gay,” he sighs, stroking Isak’s back. “I’m so sorry.”
It’s quiet for a bit, the only sound the rustling of Eskild’s hand over Isak’s back.
After a bit, Isak draws back. “I don’t expect you to fix this for me,” he says, hands rubbing under his eyes to get rid of the wetness there.
“Good, because I can’t,” Eskild answers, “but you also don’t need me to fix this. You got this, Isak. Both of you. You’re so strong together.” He shrugs one shoulder, “I’m not one to get tied down to one boy… but if I was, yours is the relationship I’d want. You both got your shit to work through, but you go through it together.”
Isak smiles bashful, “Thanks.”
“Now, since I’m not getting laid tonight, I think you owe me. I suggest you make some popcorn, since you’re the only one that makes it the way I like it, and meanwhile I’ll chose a movie on Netflix.” He raises one finger when Isak opens his mouth, “No vetoes, and in return you can invite that eye candy of yours to come too.”
Isak seems to think that over for a bit before huffing and grabbing his phone while making his way towards the kitchen.
Eskild smiles as he hears Isak’s voice from the kitchen.
“Hi baby, I’m at Eskild’s, come over?”
Maybe he’ll be kind to Isak tonight and not make him watch Mamma Mia with him for the fifth time… Maybe….
Isak yawns as he pushes open the door to his apartment, dumping his backpack next to his shoes. He pads into the living room, finding Even sitting on the floor, the storyboard for the short film he is about to direct spread out around him.
“Hi, baby,” Even says, tapping a pencil against his lips as he studies the pictures in front of him.
“Please hold me. It’s been a day,” Isak sighs, plopping down next to Even, pushing himself as close as he possibly can.
Even chuckles, dropping the pencil before wrapping Isak up in a hug. “It’s only just afternoon.”
Isak just groans in response, inching closer to his boyfriend, almost crawling into his lap.
“Did something happen?” Even strokes through Isak’s curls.
“No,” Isak shakes his head, nose rubbing against Even’s collarbone, “Just one of those… days… you know?”
It’s quiet for a moment, the soft rustling of paper as Even moves the pictures around making Isak drowsy.
“Can we order pizza tonight and just stay in?” Isak raises his head to look at Even, “I know we said we were meeting with the boys but I kinda just want to cuddle in bed.”
Even smiles, that one smile that’s only reserved for Isak, the one that never stops making Isak’s heart skip a beat, “Of course, baby, I’d love that.”
Isak hums in response, stretching out his legs and laying his head on Even’s lap. When Even doesn’t immediately resume stroking through his hair, he grabs Even’s hand and pushes it through his curls.
“Okay, kitten,” Even says around a laugh, scratching Isak’s scalp softly.
Isak doesn’t bother opening his eyes to roll them, figures the eyeroll is implied when he huffs. Still, he burrows in deeper on Even’s lap and sighs when the stress starts rolling off him. He thinks he might take a nap like this.
13 (fluff) with evak - by my migraine is killing me rn and i crave some gayanian words
Anonymous said: can you write nr 13 of fluff for evak?? i loooove u
Hello my darlings! This turned more angsty than fluffy (blame cigarettes after sex) but I hope you like it anyway! Love u <3
Even and Isak have been friends for ages. Through chance or fate, they met at a party and have been inseparable ever since. In the months where everything went to shit at home, Isak spend more days in Even’s room that in his own house. When Even went through the worst manic episode in his life, the one that nearly destroyed everything, Isak was there. Even was the first person Isak came out to, and when Even made the decision to pursue his dream and go to film school, Isak was the person cheering him on the most.
Even loves Isak, more than he can put in words.
Isak laughs, somewhere across the room and Even’s eyes flit to him without actively thinking about it. He’s sitting on a couch, beer in hand, head thrown backwards in laughter.
For a moment, Even just smiles, seeing the joy on Isak’s face, but then he notices. Peter’s arm is slung over Isak’s shoulders, his hand possessively gripping his upper arm.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Mikael says, and Even slowly turns his head back to him.
“What thing?”
“The death stare,” Mikael frowns exaggeratedly, apparently mimicking Even’s look, “the look you only reserve for Isak’s boyfriends.”
“I’m…,” Even opens and closes his mouth before shrugging, feeling the pout set around his lips. No use trying to deny something they both know is right.
Mikael sighs, clapping Even on the shoulder, “I feel like life would be so much easier if you just told him.”
Even shrugs again, “I don’t want to destroy what we have.”
A groan escapes Mikael’s lips, “For someone so smart, you can be so dumb. But I guess you have that in common.”
As Mikael walks away from him, Even’s eyes travel back to Isak, catching his look and the soft smile their eye contact brings.
Because here’s the thing, Even loves Isak, loves him more than a friend, loves him so much he feels like his heart might burst with it one day.
And here’s the other thing, he suspects Isak feels the same, he sees his looks, sees the way he never stays with a boy for long, notices how Isak always comes running to him, no matter what. He’s not dumb, contrary to what Mikael says.
What he is, is scared. Scared shitless of losing the best thing in his life.
His therapist says it’s trauma, and that if he doesn’t take the leap, he’ll never get over it. He knows she’s right… that doesn’t make it any easier.
Peter turns his head to whisper something in Isak’s ear, making him turn red and then push him away, rolling his eyes as he gets up.
He makes his way towards the kitchen, and in a reflex, Even follows.
“Are you okay?” Even asks as soon as he crosses the threshold, letting the door fall shut behind him, sealing out the rest of the party.
Isak slowly turns around, two beers in his hand. He hands one to Even as his smile turns into a smirk, the calculating look behind his eyes making him look almost dangerous. “I’m fine, just got a bit…” he waves his free hand around, “hot.”
Even narrows his eyes, “You looked awfully cozy over there.”
A laugh, as Isak leans against the closed refrigerator, “He knows he’s only temporary, don’t worry.”
“Temporary?”
“Yeah,” Isak pushes himself away from the fridge, saunters up to Even, “he knows I’m waiting for someone else to put their big boy pants on.”
He’s so close to Even, he can count every freckle on Isak’s face, the way his lip dip as he tilts his head challengingly, that smirk never leaving.
Even doesn’t move, and after a beat Isak sighs, tapping his beer bottle against the one in Even’s hand before moving past him out of the kitchen.
Not a minute passes before Sana bursts into the kitchen, eyes ablaze. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” he replies and she scoffs.
“Figures,” she raises herself up to her full length, still so much smaller than him, but so much more intimidating, “I don’t know how long you think you’re going to make him wait for you, but let me tell you, Even, even his patience is running out.” She sighs, and some of the harshness in her voice disappears, “I know what happened wasn’t easy on you, but he’s been waiting, and you can’t keep doing this to him. If you need more time, I get that, but then you need to let him go, you need to let him move on.”
Even swallows, the spit feeling like knives in his throat.
She cocks her head as she looks at him, “You underestimate yourself, Even. And him,” and with that, she leaves him alone in the kitchen once more.
When he leaves the kitchen, Isak is nowhere to be seen, and Peter is leaning against the wall next to some girl. Even makes his way over to him.
“Where’s Isak?” he asks, interrupting Peter in the middle of his sentence.
The boy turns to regard Even, quirking an eyebrow, “Oh, so you’re him?” he asks, not expecting an answer, “He left, made it clear he didn’t want me to come home with him.” He shrugs.
Even nods before turning away from him, moving quickly to the door, only stopping to grab his coat and checking his phone.
The air outside is cold, burns his lungs as he quickly makes his way through the deserted streets. His footsteps echo and the sound pushes him to go quicker, find Isak before it’s too late.
He lets himself into Isak’s building, the key jangling against the one from his own apartment, and takes the stairs two at a time before arriving at Isak’s door.
He contemplates using his key to go in, but then decides to knock.
Once.
Twice.
Silence.
Biting his lip, he bounces on the balls of his feet. He’s just about to knock again when the door opens.
Isak stands before him, eyes red rimmed but clear, chin raised defiantly.
Slowly Even lowers his hand, “hi,” he whispers.
“If you’re here to tell me you don’t want me-”
“All I want is to sleep by your side,” Even interrupts Isak, his words coming out tangled in his rush to say them. “I just…,” he sighs, frustrated, “Of course I want you. There’s no one but you, not for years.”
Isak is quiet, arms crossed as he listens.
“Tonight I realized I was so scared of losing you, that almost made me lose you,” he laughs, without humour, “And losing would be the worst...,” he inhales deeply, slowly reaches for Isak’s face, “the worst thing imaginable.”
When Isak closes his eyes, and nuzzles his face into the palm of Even’s hand, Even steps closer. “I love you.”
Isak’s eyes open again and lock onto Even’s. The kiss feels inevitable, meant to be. Even feels like coming home, like having fought for so long and now he gets to rest, like the rest of his life is finally beginning.
“Come,” Isak says, pulling on Even’s hand to guide him in his apartment, through the hallway and finally in his room. “Let’s sleep.”
“Okay,” Even agrees, letting Isak strip him to his boxers and then following him under the covers.
“I love you too,” Isak says, his arms around Even, their legs tangled, their breath mingling.
Isak hasn’t even opened the door to his apartment fully before Eva makes the announcement and pushes her way past him towards the kitchen.
“Marit?” he asks, closing the door with a soft click behind him.
Eva just hums, rummaging through Isak’s drawers in search of the bottle opener.
“Second drawer on the left,” he tells her, leaning against the door opening.
The pop of the cork is followed by a triumphant sound and a soft, almost inaudible, “fuck you, Marit.”
Isak laughs, grabbing two glasses before following Eva into the living room.
They settle down on the couch, Eva’s feet tucked under Isak’s thigh, glasses filled to the brim in their hands.
Eva sighs as she takes a sip, throwing her head backwards onto the couch. “Do you think that if I push her down the stairs, people will believe it was an accident?”
Isak hums, “She’s old enough to be in danger of falling down stairs.”
“Right?” Eva agrees, a wicked grin on her face, “I was also thinking scaring her to death.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard, just make her look in a mirror.”
Eva’s laugh is loud, like it’s unexpectedly punched out of her, making her choke slightly on her wine.
“I mean, have you looked at her eyeliner? She must be doing her makeup in the pitch black without a mirror.”
Eva cackles, “Don’t mock her style, Isak, I’m sure that was very in fashion when she was young… you know, in the 1600s.”
Isak laughs, shaking his head. “Honestly, though, how old is she?”
Eva shrugs, still shaking slightly with laughter, “Evil doesn’t have an age.”
They both burst out in laughter again, desperately trying not to spill wine all over the couch and themselves.
After a while they calm down and Eva sighs deeply. “I know I shouldn’t let her get to me like this but…,” she shrugs, “I was so looking forward to this internship and instead of learning from the best, I’m stuck with a goddamn witch.”
Isak grasps her ankle, squeezes it softly, “I know, it sucks so much. To be honest, it’s not much better in my department.”
Eva tips her head, “I thought you were having the best time?”
“I was… I am… It’s just... ,” Isak sighs, “We’re all just fighting for the same spot, so there’s little room for friendship, you know?” He shrugs, taking a big gulp of wine. “I’ve also heard some…, you know.”
Eva’s eyes blaze with indignation, “Are they being homophobic? I will beat their asses!”
Isak laughs, rolling his eyes at Eva, “It’s fine, honestly, nothing I can’t handle.”
“They’re just jealous you’re so smart,” Eva says, nodding firmly as she pours herself another glass.
“Some of them are jealous of my lunch company,” Isak’s grin turns into full laughter when he sees Eva’s face.
“Hell yeah, they should be,” she says, throwing her hair over her shoulder. She sinks deeper into the couch, wiggling her feet until she’s comfortable. “I’m really happy to have you with me working in hell. I love you”
Isak smiles, slowly taking a sip of his wine.
“You don’t have to say it back, I know you do,” she adds, pushing her toes upwards so they dig into Isak’s thigh.
“Shut up,” he says, rolling his eyes before leaning backwards into the couch, wineglass lazily resting in his hand. “I love you too.”
