#Isa is so hard to draw…. I will have a better drawing of him soon hopefully :weep:

[aquamarinebling]

I think isabeau gets very very zoned into his work (old habit from studying?) and any of his usual flustered-ness is absent when doing things like measurements

[abovexhorizons]

Anonymous asked:

Your father will get her back from you Isa. Nowhere is safe even if you think it is. The walls have ears, the streets have eyes.

We will find your safe havens, your contacts, your so called friends, we will see just how much they value this disgusting bond you say is friendship, no bond can last when money talks, or more persuasive methods must be employed.

So you can run, run and hide, that little fox minx will be returned to your father soon enough. He will get what he is owed. And your punishment will come. You will pay for your treachery.

Each word was a dagger, dipped in the finest poison one could find; each syllable a jab at the heart, every pause giving cause for concern.

She'd had nightmares about this; pleasant dreams turning into the darkest terrors that they'd be found, that he'd still be looking for them. That crossing the mountain and escaping to the far-reaches of the Estal Republic and beyond wouldn't save them.

That no matter what she did, that no matter how hard she'd try, Isa would always be found wanting. Was it a cruel trick, played by the Gods? Was it fate, binding her back to her home, that'd make her incapable of fulfilling her task, her mission, her goal?

"You're wrong!"

Isa's words were slung forth like steel, the weight of her conviction carried on them. She had to believe that this would work; that there was no way they'd ever be caught and captured. The sheer idea of the abuse he'd inflict on them both was enough to cause a crack in her soul of steel.

That he wouldn't be able to weave his darkness back into their hearts, minds, bodies and souls. That Gylbard wouldn't get his prized toy back in his possession.

"Y-You're wrong..."

Though the more she thought about it, the further into dread she fell; eyes once full of hope softening into clouded judgement as she thought about the implications of what they were saying. Of what they meant.

Her hand shakily gripped the hilt of her sword to steady herself; mentally and physically. Isa felt like she needed an anchor, something to keep her mind from dissociating the trauma that came with thinking about her past.

About what they did to Rika; herself included.

"You're... Wrong. My friends wouldn't give up on me; on us, on this dream. We all share a desire to see Rika returned home safely-- why can't you see that? Why would you bid her suffer more? Hasn't she been through enough?"

Almost at the edge of tears, Isa could only hold herself together by a thread; a dry gulp of lumpy saliva the only moisture her mouth could muster.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together an argument to get this person to be quiet; to get him to leave her thoughts all-together. She'd promised not to resort to violence first herself; a vow she would not break now.

But, perhaps it was for the better? Perhaps, if this person died, they'd be safe. If she killed everyone that opposed them first, then by right, Rika and herself would emerge victorious.

But where did she draw the line? Was it just people that antagonized her, or was it those that refused a barter? Perhaps people that hit on either of them, or men that looked at Rika like a fleshlight?

It was too much to consider at once; her frown tugging into a grimace as she tried to muster the courage to argue back.

"You're wrong about one thing, though. I will never let Rika fall back into my fathers hands, no matter what; this, I solemnly vow with all my heart. They can use me, abuse me, disembowel me in front of the entire world for all I care; but I will never let harm come to Rika."

It was a strange boost of confidence, as if the words carried greater weight than they truly did. Isa was just one woman; this she knew.

"I will endure the exile, and I will find her peace at the end of our journey. You cannot stop us. You cannot stop me."

[sweeteastart]

✨Day 7✨

for the @khoc-week 2021 !

Themes : 1. Home, 2. Genderswap, 3. What was your character creation like ?

Buckle up because this is going to be quite a long one this time around they were all pretty long posts until now but humour me x)

Mikana

1. For Mikana, spending time with Sakore, her sister and Nox, pretty much her adopted sibling, is the closest feeling to home. When she is with them, darkness, light and all her problems disappeared and she puts all her attention on them.

2. Genderbend Mikana is... Pretty much just Mikana lmao. He is has aloof and friendly. However, in this men form, you can much clearly see Lea's impact on her design ahaha. He name would maybe something like Miko ?

3. Mikana is the oldest kh character i created. She was created around the end of 2019, start of 2020. i got really invested in kh quick late compared to most,,, Really i first created her because i was, and still am, a big fan of Lea. You can see the inspiration i took from his design from her side hair and bang lmao.

Mikana, like all the character i draw, soon took a life of her own. The more i drew and imagined scenarios with her, the more her personality constructed itself without me realizing it (she is aloof, level-headed, family oriented). I truly build most of it throught an AU of mine named "Magical AU". Her clothing style which is really 70/80's s still on of the thing i like the most about her.

The khocweek2020 also helped a lot (pass time, family ties, short terms and long term goals,...) !

Sika

1. Eventually in the story, Sika just kinda absorb into the sea salt trio household. She lives with them like the others kids and is just like a sister for them all. However, even in this next found home found family go brrrr she has some difficulties waking up in the morning.

2. Sika as a boy would just be her sweet self as always. This design ended up turning out much softer and sweet than what I anticipated but I kinda love it. When I was thinking about names, I couldn't really think of much only Soka came to mind at first and that's just a ATLA character lmao so I just kept Sika. I think it's neutral enough to fit a male or female character :D

3. Sika is a special case to say the least. At first, she was one of my fiction character. I never published it anywhere but it was 45 pages long of slice of life of her living in Twilight Town and being Lea and Isa friend,,, Again, herpersonnality build herself up without me thinking much about it (she is bubbly, kind, responsible, ressourceful). But what's truly different about it was that i had her personnality BEFORE i created her appearance. It's really rare for me to do that.

HOWEVER i wasn't satisfied. My writing was too confused... So i scraped all 45 pages of writing i did. i had a hard time doing so because it represented DAYS of work for nothing. I started everything from the beginning. It was then that i truly integrated Orion and Erid properly into the story and created Master Ivi. Some keypoint are still the same but i changed the story quite a lot.

Bunny and Anis

1. Truly, Anis and Bunny always felt at home whenever they were with each other. This feeling extended to their significant other and close friends as they grew older. Whatever the house, what make them feel home is having the people taht matter to them by their side.

2. Bunny and Anis were REALLY a headache to do. Since they are identical twins I feared their genderbend would just look like any another. However, I quickly realized I could use their controsting personalities to my advantage. Bunny genderbend looks like a quiet and successful uncle while Anis genderbend looks like this fun but a bit unhinged aunt you love.

Their names would be Anise for Anis and Hare for Bunny,,,

3. At the beginning, Bunny was simply my Khux player character. I didn't do much art or think much about her or her story. Funnily enough, this is last year khocweek that truly made me flesh her out ! Without it, Bunny would most likely stayed a surface level character. Her name was also mostly a joke but ended up really like it.

When it comes to personality, she mostly have the player personality from KHux and follow the same story. Well except for the final sacrifice (Anis took on this part x)).

Anis was created not too long after last year khocweek. I was simply playing around with the male dressing interface, creating a sort of genderbend of Bunny and... Got attached to the character lmao. With his name, i stayed in the food related realm really i tend to mostly name my character after food... .

His peronnality was mostly created based on the dynamic energic and calm character have. Since Bunny is a very calm and silent person, having a twin brother loud and energetic could make out for funny and ridiculous situation. I really like the dynamic.

Pêche

1. I have yet to decide a definite end to Pêche's story. Their story is yet to find the comfort in hurt/comfort in the current state of her fanfic x) However I can vaguely imagine that someday, they would be have healed enough to trust the guardians of light.

2. Genderbend Pêche was really hard for me. Like some might have guessed Pêche's goes with neutral pronouns and have a generally androgyne appearance : the biggest reason is that I get the impression Pêche doesn't identify as anything. They are there suffering but hey they will have help and slowly heal from all the bad things they experienced. So I just altered their body shape a bit and cut their hair ?

3. Pêche wasn't a really serious character at first. For one, she was a fiction character and more importantly a sort of punching ball character. When i felt bad, i wrote her and felt better. But soon enough my brain started to really like her and from there, i couldn't help but fleshed her out. She needed a coherent story. Well coherent doesn't mean simple for me x) her story is a beautiful mess to understand.

Also i wanted to think about some kind of writing prompt i had : What if Xehanort had a student ? Eraqus as some but Xehanort never explicetly said he never had any so my brain went brrrrr ; What or when did Xehanort truly descended into darkness ? The old men is so intense in the game but Eraqus still think of him as good until he dies ??? It means Xehanort was at least okay for a bunch of time then, right ???? ; What if Xehanort succeded in completing a heart ? lmao this one made available so much angst i couldn't pass it,,,

So this is the end of my khocweek. Even with all my preparation I still had to rush the last few drawnings ahah. Anyways I had such a sweets and good week! I rarely have the occasion of talking about my ocs to strangers and have actual reactions. Interactions I get from the khocweek make my heart warms up 🥺 I thanks all the khocweek team and all the other talented participants from the bottom of my hearts 💜💜 I hope to be there next year and see some familiar ocs again 👀

[writingformymentalhealth]

Chapter 5

The Black Brothers

Josephine Fawley or as her brother liked to call her the tomboy Princess had a striking romance with Hogwarts very own Pureblood rebel Sirius Black.

Sadly her parents deemed his Brother the so called Slytherin Prince as a better fit and arranged a marriage with the younger Black.

Tw: Arranged marriage, possible smut, swear words, lots of fluff, angst, mentions of abuse and depression,

Part 1

Wattpad link

Masterlist

The Newts went by in the blink of an eye and before any of them knew they were back at the platform 9 3/4.

“I will miss you so bad,” Isa said and Joey’s insides felt warm. Isa wasn’t one for sentimentalities usually and having her openly talk about missing her made her happier than she would ever admit.

“I’ll miss you too, Isa.” She said, pulling the girl in a quick hug.

“Hey Isa, don’t steal away my girl,” Sirius’ voice said from behind, earning him a playful shove from Joey.

Isa waved a last time before going to look for her parents, leaving the couple to bid their goodbyes.

“Farewell Princess.”

“We’ll see each other at the next boring pureblood ball.”

“I’ll still miss you like crazy.” His hand cupped her cheek, making a blush creep up on her. How could he make her feel this way, even after all these years?

And then kissed her. He kissed her like it was the last kiss they ever shared.

After pulling back, both teens were slightly panting.

“I’ll miss you too, Black”

“Write to me, love.”

“Every day.”

And with a last playful wink the boy disappeared between the people, going to find his parents - or hiding from them.

Just seconds later, Quentin appeared next to the girl.

“Let’s go, mum and dad will be waiting.” He said, nudging her.

It only took the twins minutes to find their parents chatting with the Malfoys, and even though Quentin’s expression remained rather neutral, Joey could practically feel her brother’s blood boil at the sight of Lucius.

Their Mother was the first one to see the twins hugging them both and mumbling something about having missed them. Their father just nodded at the scene, bidding his goodbyes to the Malfoys.

“We have something to tell you when we come home.” Cordelia whispered to her children before grabbing Joey’s hand.

Joey and Quentin exchanged a look.

With a plop the family landed back at the Fawley residence and Joey inhaled the familiar scent of Lavender and Moth balls that always seemed to linger in the old house and didn’t pay much attention to her mother asking for a teatime with the family to discuss ‘important matters’. At least until Quentin took her hand, and she felt just how clammy and sweaty his hand was.

“It will be alright Quen.”

He shook his head. And Joey prayed they weren’t going to tell her that his depression got worse.

With a weird feeling in her stomach, she made her way to the sitting corner in which the Fawley family always drunk their tea, carefully pulling Quentin behind, who seemed almost frozen into place.

Their parents sat opposite to them, both seeming suspiciously smiley.

“What’s up?” Joey asked, not able to take the tension anymore.

Her mother inhaled sharply before letting her catlike green eyes meet her daughters. “We arranged a marriage for you, Josephine.”

“You what?” The siblings asked simultaneously.

“We arranged for you to marry a respectable pure blood gentleman.” Her father explained, not looking his children in the eyes.

“Absolutely not.”

Her mother pursed her lips. “I fear you don’t have a choice, Darling.”

“You were always against that bullshit,” her brother spat, his voice being louder than ever.

“Things change, circumstances change.” Their father said, just earning a scoff from his son.

“It is the best for all of us.”

“Not for me.”

Her mother looked at her sadly, “You don’t have a choice.”

“Oh hell, yes I do.” Joey screamed, standing up, running into her room, still faintly hearing her brother argue with her parents.

In her room she pulled out her trunk, chaotically throwing clothes, pictures and other prized possessions in it. She didn’t know where she was going to go, but she knew she needed to go. Hot tears streamed down her face, she always thought her parents were different, sure most pure blood families had some weird beliefs about keeping their blood pure therefore arranged marriage looked like the best thing to do, but her parents always seemed to accept that their children would go their own way.

A faint knock on the door alerted the girl of her mother’s presence.

“Can I come in?”

“In your words, I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“We made a deal with the family years ago,” her mother sighed suddenly looking decades older, “we promised them you would marry their son in exchange for safety from the dark Lord.”

“What has Voldemort to do with all this?” her Mother flinched by the mention of his name.

“The family is very close to him. They inform him about blood traitors, eventual followers and all that.”

“So I don’t have a choice?”

“Not if you want your loved ones to live.” Her Mother said simply giving her daughter a reassuring squeeze before going out of the room leaving Joey at a complete loss.

After the initial shock, there was only one thing on her mind: Sirius.

She fidgeted with the silver ring on her left hand, knowing that she always wanted to marry him, spend her life with the boy she loved above everything else, and now she would have to face a relationship like Narcissa had with Lucius.

The lump in her throat grew bigger and bigger, and she barely noticed the tears streaming down her face mercilessly.

Perhaps the worst heartbreak isn’t getting broken up with, perhaps the worst heartbreak is knowing you have to break up with someone who you still love with every fiber of your body.

-

Two days had gone by, but Joey didn’t even seem to notice. Everything went on in a blur and no words from Isabella, who she wrote to immediately nor her brother, could pull her out of her misery.

“You know you need to break up with him, don’t you?” Her brother just asked, while soothingly drawing circles on her back.

“Isabella said I should break his heart really bad to make it easier for him,” Joey scoffed, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

“That’s a terrible idea, even for Isabella.”

“You just say that because you hate her. She said, I should just tell him I am in love with someone else.”

“Josephine, don’t do it, please. People will know about the arranged marriage just like they know about Lucius and Narcissa.”

“I could still love him though.”

“Sirius isn’t stupid - not that stupid at least.”

“If I tell him the truth he would try to fight the bloke in some deathly duel or something,” she laughed humorlessly, “he’d do anything for me.”

“You don’t need to tell him a reason to break up with him.”

“Don’t you think I owe him one?”

Her brother stayed silent, engulfing her in a hug, while her tears left a wet patch on his shirt. Quentin knew better than to argue with his sister. She already made up her mind.

-

Joey had asked Sirius to meet her at the park bench he once gave her the promise ring at. Her face was stoic, almost unreadable. She knew she couldn’t show weakness in front of him. She couldn’t make him question her decision. She needed to be confident and cold.

She already saw him from afar, his long hair hanging in his eyes while he comfortably sat in the grass even though a perfectly intact bench was right next to him.

As soon as the boy saw her his eyes lit up and he stood up to hug her, but she took a step back making his eyebrows snap together in confusion.

“We need to talk.” She said instead of a greeting slowly making her way to the bench.

“What’s wrong, love?”

She forced herself to look into his concerned eyes that were so full of love for her and she knew Isabella was right. She would have to break him so he could let her go.

“I am breaking up with you.”

Sirius’ eyes widened in disbelief, his hands fidgeting with each other like they always did when he got overwhelmed, and Joey had to resist the urge to hold them.

“Why? Joey we can fix this I-“

“I made my decision.”

He swallowed hard, and she saw tears starting to pool in his eyes.

“Why?” He asked again, his voice cracking.

“I found somebody else.” She said simply, not daring to look into the stormy grey eyes she was still very much in love with, “and I am in love with him.”

“I love you.” Sirius said, his voice barely above a whisper and it took everything in Joey not to say it back.

“I should go.” She said, not waiting for an answer before standing up and taking fast steps towards the point she knew she could Apparate away in safety. A small part of her hoped he would run after her, tell her he saw through her act, tell her he knew how to get out of it but he didn’t so she let the tears that she was holding in since the moment she saw him sitting next to the bench fall but to her surprise she didn’t feel the hurt anymore. Instead, her heart felt cold, as if it was made of ice or as if someone had just burst through her rib cage and taken it out, leaving only an empty space.

Sirius Black felt like he was having a heart attack, and for a short second he thought about admitting himself into St mangos hospital but he came to the conclusion that maybe having a heart attack right now wouldn’t be too bad because the one person he trusted and treasured over anyone else made his worst fears come true. He knew he was always jealous, but that was just because he knew deep inside that a guy like him could never keep a girl like her. That a girl like Josephine didn’t settle for family disappointments with lots of baggage, but he still tried and for a brief moment he thought he could be happy. Now he knew that some people just aren’t meant to be happy.

For the first time since the couple started dating, Sirius lit up a cigarette, inhaling the deathly smoke deeply, hoping that it would kill the sadness in him.

Sirius Black’s world became dull that day.

Unbeknownst to both they had the same essential question running through their head, ‘who is this other guy’ but while Sirius would have to wait some time till his question got answered, Joey had the option to confront her parents.

Of course she could have done this earlier, but she had to admit she was scared of the answer. She knew most pureblood families and couldn’t say she particularly liked them. Additionally a family that was close to the Dark Lord was bound to be involved in the dark arts and at least to some extent evil.

She shuddered at that thought; she heard all the stories about arranged marriages - the regular rape, the abuse and the fear and she wasn’t keen on joining that club. So when she saw her Mother that day ready to confront her - she couldn’t.

She couldn’t bring herself to ask.

Actually, she couldn’t bring herself to do anything besides lay in bed and sleep, she didn’t even have it in her to cry anymore. Even after her Mother informed her she was going to meet her future husband for dinner, she didn’t have it in herself to react.

In the end it was her brother who brought back the girl’s spirits on the day of the dinner.

“Oh no, you are not meeting your future husband looking like that.”

“Why? He has to marry me, anyway.” Joey said, rolling over.

“Go shower. Now. You smell, and if you don’t shower, I will conjure a bucket of ice water and shower you myself.” He said while rummaging through her closet.

Joey frowned, not being used to her brother being so authoritarian, but she did as he said, too tired to argue with him.

Even though she would never admit it, the shower did make her feel better, and the dress her brother chose made her feel like a real life princess.

“You have to do your clown paint on your own, I have no idea what that stuff is.” He said gesturing to her makeup and for the first time in eleven days Joey chuckled.

She was just doing her eye makeup as her mother came in, a sad smile decorating her face. “You never asked who.”

“Does it matter?” Joey asked, applying mascara.

“It’s Regulus Black.”

Joey almost poked her eye out as she heard that. Her heart hammered desperately against her chest.

“Why not Sirius?” Quentin asked the question Joey wanted to ask so desperately. “Isn’t he the oldest?”

Her mother made a sound with her mouth, “We discussed this matter but Sirius and his family have a complicated relationship, they want regulus to make the proud.”

And Joey felt like her heart broke all over again. She was so close to getting what she wanted, yet destiny had ripped it away from her again. If this was a story, the Author had to be downright cruel to put her through this.

-

At the Black Mansion Sirius - for the first time in his life felt completely and utterly broken. Hot tears ran down his face, and he couldn’t contain the sobs coming out of his mouth.

He almost didn’t notice his Mother coming in hitting him with the stupid Black family ring she was so proud of turning it outward so it would leave deep cuts on his cheeks.

“Crying is something for muggles and weaklings. Not for Blacks.” She screeched, but he didn’t care, he never cared for anything his parents wanted or said, he only cared for her and his friends and maybe Regulus even though his loyalty to their parents could be infuriating sometimes.

“We have guests this evening. If you aren’t on your best behavior, I will crucio you right in front of them.” His mother sneered, and Sirius knew from experience that she meant what she said.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” His Mother grabbed her wand and Sirius bit his lip till it started bleeding.

“Yes, ma’am.” he grumbled quietly, just hoping that she would disappear soon so he could be sad in peace.

Walburga strutted out of the room, locking the door behind her, making Sirius sigh.

He looked around his room trying to ground himself, the red gryffindor flags, the muggle band posters from bands he didn’t know just to spite his mother, the pictures of the Marauders and of course the pictures of Joey that he didn’t yet have the heart to take down, her smile illuminating the whole room even through a picture. Tears filled his eyes again, yet he didn’t dare to cry. Instead, he got out his wand, muttering some spells to heal the wounds.

A few hours later Sirius was well aware of how horrible he looked, skin pale, deep rings under the eyes and his usually shiny hair hanging matted over his eyes, this look being further enhanced while standing next to his brother who looked more and more like Sirius every day, sharing his aristocratic features. But other than Sirius;, Regulus looked amazing, his tie in place, his hair combed and his shoes cleaned.

Sirius saw the disgusted face his mother gave him before gushing about Regulus and he couldn’t help but feel accomplished at his disheveled appearance that hopefully would disgust any weird poor blood family her mother invited for today.

“Adrian, Cordelia! How nice to see you.” Walburga greeted, making Sirius’ blood run cold at the mention of Joey’s parents’ names; and really just behind the two middle-aged wizards and next to Quentin, the girl of his dreams, stood. Her usually wavy hair was curled and neatly pinned up, leaving just a few strands to frame her beautiful face.

Sirius stood there frozen as the other people greeted each other. Joey stiffly shook his hand. Her eyes looking cold and disinterested, just like the first time Sirius saw her at the pureblood ball.

Joey, on the other hand, felt immensely grateful for her brother standing beside her, as she didn’t know where she should look. She was scared to look in Regulus eyes seeing the familiar cold and steely gaze of her future husband and even though she wanted to, she knew looking in Sirius’ eyes would just open up a Pandora’s box of feelings.

The dinner went over like a blur, Walburga asking lots of questions that were being answered politely, mostly by Cordelia.

As dessert came - crème brûlée, finally the point of the entire dinner was made clear.

“Josephine, Regulus, as you both know we arranged a marriage between you two, binding two of the most pureblood families together by law.” Orion said, his voice cold and calculated just like Regulus’ voice was. Sirius started coughing uncontrollably, choking on the water he just tried to drink, earning himself dirty looks from the pureblood parents, Orion especially looking at Sirius like Walburga looked at discounter clothes. “Don’t mind my son, he doesn’t take news like a gentleman, another reason why we chose regulus over him.”

Joey looked up from her plate - the first time this evening and her mask broke for a short second and Sirius saw how deeply horrified she looked before she went back to smiling politely with the same cold disinterested eyes every pureblood kid learned to have at a young age.

“We expect you to be a pleasant couple till you marry, no drama or other nonsense.” Orion continued.

“Josephine, darling, I suspect your parents already informed you about the risks of acting out?” Walburga asked, and Joey’s stomach turned at her sickly sweet voice. Her eyes automatically found Sirius’ for comfort, but his eyes were clouded with shock and something Joey could only interpret as realization.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well, how about you two go up to Regulus’ room to get to know each other better, while we discuss the details of the engagement party?”

Regulus nodded wordlessly, taking his future fiancée’s hand leading her up the stairs so familiar of the noble house of black, into his room.

It was the first time that Joey saw a room except the ball room and Sirius’ room and she was impressed at how unimpressive the room looked. The walls were empty except a Slytherin flag over his bed; the room was almost hauntingly neat, and she didn’t see even one personal item.

“I apologize for all of this.” Regulus said, looking at the stoic girl in front of him.

“No need to apologize.” She whispered, her voice sounding hoarse as she took in the room, looking anywhere but into the boys’ eyes.

“I’m sure no girl wants to have that kind of proposal.”

She chuckled at the absurdity of his words, sitting down on his bed, surprised at the softness of the mattress, yet shuddering at the thought of her having to have sex with him on that mattress - or anywhere, for that matter.

“We are practically engaged and you don’t even know my favorite color.” She said, looking into his eyes for the first time this evening.

There was a deep breath, and then Regulus sat beside her.

“Josephine-“

“Why are you marrying me?”

He looked shocked at the question and Joey wished she could take the words back, knowing that she crossed a line and being basically the property of Regulus now, she should maybe at least try to keep the comments to herself.

“Josephine, it’s what our parents want from us.”

“Nobody calls me Josephine, except my parents.” Joey whispered, her voice restrained from the fear pulsing through her body.

“I know, but I didn’t know if you wanted me to call you that.”

Joey looked into his steely eyes, and they looked surprisingly soft and understanding. And a small glimmer of hope tugged at her heartstrings.

“Why do you care what I want? Am I now not your property?” The words came out harder than she intended, and Regulus flinched slightly.

“I’m not a monster.”

Joey stayed silent.

She was glad, as Walburga called them downstairs, looking at them as if she just won the lottery.

“Splendid news, we will hold the engagement party in one week.”, Joey forced a smile but by the falling face of Walburga she could already tell that it came out more like a grimace, “and the even better news is that you will spend all summer with us so you and Regulus can bond and have some appearances as a couple before you marry.”

Joey’s stomach turned. Spending all summer with the guy they forced her to marry, her ex boyfriend who still gave her butterflies and their psychopathic parents sounded like a nightmare.

“We will have a guest room ready.” Orion added coldly, and from the corner of her eye she saw Sirius exhaling in something that looked like relief.

“Oh no, we aren’t in the eighties anymore. She can sleep in Regulus room, they can practice for their wedding night.” Walburga grinned wolfishly, and Joey felt so sick she was sure she would throw up all over the carpet.

Masterlist

Part 6

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist for this story :)

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85

~^~

Sunday, 14:07

Song: Sam Smith - How Do You Sleep

Lucas feels a little ridiculous, smiling dopily at his phone while he sits at the kitchen table, but it’s impossible not to. He always smiles at messages from Jens—has done since first meeting him—and now his joy is only doubled.

I think Jana is suspicious

suspicious how?

Lucas scrolls back up to the message Jens had sent him earlier while he waits for him to respond. Lucas had woken up to it—an image of Jens still in bed, pouting into his pillow. The accompanying message had simply read ‘not as comfy as yours’.

He scrolls back down when Jens replies.

she’s giving me that look. the suspicious one. all knowing and smug and shit

Lucas smiles, giving a tiny shake of his head.

maybe you should stop texting me and actually spend time with her then? don’t forget it’s your last chance

why thank you. now I’m sad :(

okay. I’m gonna ignore you now but know that I don’t want to </3

dumbass. you can text me later

Lucas hesitates a moment, and then sends one final message.

<3

“What are you smiling at?”

Lucas looks up at his dad and hastily places his phone on the table. He’d forgotten he wasn’t in the room alone, that his dad is only at the sink, washing the dishes. He’s looking over his shoulder at Lucas in amusement, and Lucas crosses his arms on the table and shrugs him off. “Nothing, just the guys.”

“The guys as in Kes and Jayden, or new guys?” Hugo asks.

It would be very simple. Lucas could just say Kes and let the conversation drop. He wouldn’t have to explain anything. He’d be asked the easy questions; how are they doing, does Lucas miss them. It might be the best segway into organising a trip home soon.

It’s also clear that his dad is trying, and Lucas decides it probably wouldn’t be the worst thing to put in the same effort.

“New.”

Hugo hums approvingly as he leaves the last plate aside and turns off the tap. He grabs a towel before turning around, leaning back against the counter as he dries his hands. “Anybody special?”

Lucas works very hard not to blush and give himself away, because the truthful answer is yes. Jens is incredibly special—the word doesn’t even seem sufficient to describe him.

But Lucas isn’t about to tell anyone else that, much less his father.

“No,” Lucas groans, rubbing a hand over his face for emphasis, hoping that’s enough to get past the subject.

“What? Smiling like that, what am I supposed to think? You know you didn’t even make a single snide comment during lunch?”

“Did you want me to?”

That earns him a withering look. “Lucas, come. Tell me about it. Your friends, at least. I let you out to that Halloween party and you haven’t even told me who you were with.”

“I didn’t know going outside came with terms and conditions,” Lucas mutters.

His father merely raises a brow. “When you were originally grounded, it does, yes.”

Lucas relents by letting his shoulders slump.

“Did you smoke?”

“I didn’t, actually.” Lucas resists the urge to roll his eyes, but he’s disappointed that this seems to have turned into an interrogation. For once, for some reason, he’d thought it would be better. They’ve been more amicable over the past week, casual with each other, with Hugo actually making it home in time to have dinner with him on occasion.

“That’s slightly impressive,” Hugo allows, moving to sit down with him at the table. “And did you have fun?”

Lucas shrugs. “Yeah, it was fine.” It was better than fine. It was the night he and Jens had almost kissed.

But, again, he isn’t about to tell his father that.

“You’re really not gonna give me anything, huh?” Hugo nudges his arm. “What about Saturday then? Where’d you disappear to that night?”

A smile flits on to Lucas’s lips. “Trick-or-treating.”

“Ah, well, now you’re just making fun of me.”

“No, I’m serious,” Lucas protests. “I went trick-or-treating with Jens and his little sister.”

He’s confused for a moment as to why his father brightens, but he quickly lets Lucas know what he’d latched onto. “Is that finally a name?” Lucas’s smile drops as his dad leans towards him, urging him on with a wave of his hand. “Jens, tell me about Jens.”

Lucas absolutely cannot do that. His pulse spikes, but he quickly tamps his fear down. His father has no reason to expect anything beyond friendship. He’s just asking Lucas to tell him about his friends. Lucas can tell him about Jens without giving him any of the...details.

“I don’t know. He’s Jens. I met him at—“ Lucas quickly cuts himself off, remembering that he’d snuck out to that party after his father had gone to his room. “I met him at school at the end of my first week. He kind of got me into his friend group.”

Hugo nods, pleased, but not entirely satisfied. “What’s he like?”

“He’s...cool. He skates, he’s chill. He kind of reminds me of Kes, I guess.”

“I’d like him, then?”

Lucas has to admit that he hasn’t thought about it much, but now that the man has put it out there, he likes the idea. It’s not really something he’d ever looked for, before—his father’s approval. He supposes it’s different, now that they’re on their own. He’s been worrying about what the boys will think, trying to figure out how to tell Isa, wondering what Jens’s friends will say. He has thought about telling his mother.

He hasn’t really considered his dad much, beyond how best to sneak Jens around him.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “I think so. He’s a good guy.”

Hugo smiles. “I wouldn’t expect you to pick anything less.”

Lucas can’t help but find a deeper meaning in the words, for just a second, and feel his heart warm. Then he crushes the idea and comes back to the matter at hand, and decides he can’t give anything more away. “Should I tell Jayden you think he’s good, then?”

“You’ll do no such thing. I love the kid, but it’s a tough love.”

Lucas snorts, shaking his head slightly, surprised again at how at-ease he feels. Maybe he is misjudging, just slightly. Maybe he should try a little more.

He’s even more surprised when his dad gives his hair a fond ruffle as he rises, standing next to Lucas with a hand on his shoulder. “If you don’t have any plans today, you wanna watch a film with me?”

Lucas’s brows raise slowly. “What film?”

“Your choice.”

It’s a good offer that Lucas doesn’t really have a reason to refuse. Trying, he reminds himself. “Sure.”

Hugo grins and pats his shoulder. “Good. I’ll go set up the TV and you can get us the ice cream.”

“You got ice cream?” Lucas asks, disbelieving, as his dad makes his way out of the room.

“I know my son. Of course I got ice cream.”

Lucas finds himself grinning after him, shaking his head to himself in an attempt to snap out of it. He doesn’t have to, he realises. He should take this treacherous peace and allow himself to enjoy it. Maybe things are simply going right for once.

Maybe the universe is on his side, after all.

He picks his phone back up before getting the dessert, seeing another notification from Jens, but this time in the form of an Instagram post. Lucas clicks into it and finds an image of him and Jana. They’re both pouting, eyes closed, and Jana has her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pressing their cheeks together. Jens has simply captioned it, ‘miss you already’.

There’s a low thrum of jealousy in Lucas’s stomach, at first, but the longer he looks at it, the easier he finds it. Eventually, it draws a smile onto his face. He remembers what Jens had told him, the night of the Halloween party, and what Jens had told him yesterday, and he merges it all together and reminds himself of how Jens had kissed him, over and over, going so far as to ask Lucas if he could stay forever.

He smiles to himself as he likes the post, then slips his phone back into his pocket before going in search of the ice cream.

[isadcrajade]

💀 * [ barbie ferreira + cis female + she/her ] —— have you met isadora oliveira ? they are a twenty-one year old sophomore currently studying fashion design & merchandising. they live on keating house, and word around campus is that this aries is loyal + warm, as well as self-objectifying + obsequious. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. chocolate covered strawberries, gothic platforms, lingerie under leather jackets.

hiii bbies it’s me (gabby) finally here again to post this finalized, messy version of isa’s intro! she’s a brand new never-been-played muse of mine so it’s def bound to be a bit more scattered & less developed than ezra’s, but also much shorter? so i mean there’s a bonus lmao alright here we go:

so isadora (also known by many nicknames such as isa, izzy, iz, & dora the explora if ur trying to piss her off vgbjhksjs) was definitely not brought up in a world of prestige and recognition like the one she’s become so accustomed to in attending holloway university

growing up in the small town of lisbon, maine the only reality isa knew during her childhood was that of living as the only child of a woman who was (TW) both a compulsive liar & and compulsive hoarder. their house was floor to ceiling with things her mom collected as well as garbage built up over time- her condition had already driven isa’s father out of the house when she was just three years old, and she never had a relationship with him as a result

she was still fairly young when she realized the true severity of her own situation, just how abnormal it was compared to that of her friends. she missed out on so many rights of passage during her upbringing like birthday parties, sleepovers, etc. for much of her life her own living space / bedroom were just as bad off as the rest of the house, given her mom’s inability to keep from passing her hoarding tendencies onto her daughter. isa simply didn’t know any better at the time. to her, that was normal.

not only was her mom a compulsive liar & hoarder but she was also extremely neglectful, often leaving isa to her own devices in the dangerous environment they called home. as a result of this she (TW ED) developed harmful coping mechanisms surrounding food, regularly overeating to combat negative feelings of loneliness, and this went on from the time she was just a little girl all the way until she was in high school

high school was rough in many ways- she suffered depression, anxiety, experienced bullying at the hands of the more popular kids for her weight & her mother’s financial situation, and was all around extremely isolated from her peers- the only person she really had to depend on was her cousin (WC) . she had so much respect and envy for her cousin, they had more of a sisterly dynamic than anything, she was just so gorgeous and everything she did just seemed so effortless, to the point isa couldn’t help but idolize her and consider her a best friend. 

like, remember when spongebob said he hoped that by being in squidward’s presence some of his artistic ability would rub off onto him? that was deadass isa & (WC) in high school jhbksnjs my girl was so sure if she just spent enough time with her she’d inherit some of her pretty & cool

high school was also where she reached a turning point when it came to her home environment, able to put a name to her mom’s condition after years of struggling with her strained and toxic relationship with her mom, and ultimately changed the rest of her life. she stayed the night at (WC’s) one night and after she fell asleep, isa stayed up watching TLC- it was there that she first discovered the TV show ‘hoarding: buried alive’ and realized there was a name for her mother’s infliction- but more importantly, learned that there was help available for her condition

when she went home to excitedly tell her mother that she’d basically discovered a cure, a means to change everything for them... she certainly hadn’t been expecting the reaction that came: her mom, who’d always been so indifferent toward her, so lethargic and uninterested in what she had to say, was suddenly listening very clearly- and she was not happy. isa had never heard her mom scream like that, had never really heard her express any heightened emotion, but it was in that moment at 17 years old, just a few weeks away from her 18th birthday, that she realized what she needed to do. she had no choice but to make plans to leave her mom behind.

the final weeks leading up to the big day she was counting on as a turning point consisted of her cleaning out her own space, little by little, enough that she had somewhere to set up her secondhand laptop and webcam. blowing out the candles on her 18th birthday cake came with wishing for a whole new life, and she was determined to make that for herself by any means necessary.

(TW SEX WORK) isa spent half her 18th year in her room working as a successful camgirl, showing everything but her face, & of course always being careful not to dox herself. she eventually earned enough money to start buying herself nicer clothes, but it didn’t take her long to realize she wanted more from life than just rotting away in her hometown. she bought herself a higher quality webcam to keep making money... and a nice sewing machine, something she’d always dreamed of owning. 

all her life she’d been drawing and sketching as a means of escapism, it’d always been therapeutic to her to be creative and conjure up unique designs for outfits in her mind, drawing models in all shapes and sizes to represent her fantasy outfits. but she never felt like a visionary, even though anyone with an eye for fashion who got a look at her work could see that she had the natural talent and potential to be. 

isa had been an a straight-A student her whole life despite having almost no support at home from her mother growing up, and with plenty of encouragement from (cousin WC), she plucked up the courage and applied for holloway university, with ivory falls being far enough from her hometown of lisbon, but still in the same state so that she could go and see her mother from time to time (bc although their relationship is quite strained now, she still loves and worries about her)

the next summer she received her acceptance letter at holloway u for the coming fall semester, and the fact that she’d been able to make it into such a prestigious school made her feel so proud of herself that she completely underwent a massive arc of character development; evolving into someone so much more confident. realizing that plenty of people found her desirable as she continued to earn money through cam shows had been part of that transformation, but realizing she was talented enough to get accepted into the fashion design and merchandising program at her dream school had a completely different effect on her. 

( TW BODY IMAGE ISSUES ) isa decided that as she entered college, she was no longer going to be the meek, insecure girl constantly playing the role of the doting, loyal fat best friend to the ‘prettier main characters’ she’d always been sidekick to- she told herself that she was the main fucking character in her life from here on, and has spent her entire college experience up to this point just,, navigating as she figures out what that really means to her

still has a terrible underlying tendency to be overly-loyal and a bit obsessive with girls she closely befriends, if she has any kind of jealousy towards them. but ! is a lot more confident than she used to be, and it shows in the way she dresses and carries herself, as well as in her long-term goals (to transfer to FIDM for her final years of university)

( TW ED MENTION ) as a young adult, she’s mostly she’s replaced the compulsion to deal with her body image issues by using food to cope that she had as a teenager... by using sex to cope instead, so she’s definitely a bit promiscuous but does her best to keep that Her Own business 

personality-wise she has a massive heart & is loyal to a fault but is also wild AF & loves a good time! never rly dabbled in drugs until she got to college but since then has acquired an interest in trying everything under the sun, even if it’s just one and done. mostly though she just likes to get really drunk & stupid. used to feel like she was constantly living in her cousin’s shadow, & in some ways she still does, but she’s trying hard to make herself believe that she’s reached a place where she won’t be playing second fiddle to anyone, ever again

i’m gonna shut the hell up now & stop pretending i know this character better than i do bc i deadass do not jbhnjss like she’s literally brand new so lemme go head & leave plenty of room for development!

same story as ezra i’ll have a full connections page posted for her soon but in the meantime some ideas i have are: friends, frienemies, ex friends, high school bullies, classmates, old high school friends, people she gets fuckt up with on the reg, people she hooks up with on the reg (any gender, she’s bisexual / biromantic), someone she had a crush on in high school / has pined for from afar maybe?? someone who used to watch her cam shows?? someone she almost kinda dated but Not? someone who she hooked up with while they were dating someone else?? idk that’s what i have for now but there’ll be more where that came from <3 xoxo like this or hmu !

[takkforaltijd]

"I really had no idea what to expect from this evening" 2/2

Okay here's part two. A few things beforehand, did you know that Lucas is actually attending a Waldorf school in skamnl! Namely the St-Gregorius College in Utrecht! So I put this into the story. I also have no idea what the translation of "borrelnootje" is. It is a peanut with a kind of crispy layer around it. Here a picture haha. So I just called it crispy nuts.

Jens is home alone the weekend and has asked Lucas if he would like to come. Friday has arrived and the two have not talked about it. Jens sends a message if Lucas still wants to come over.

Also an evening with cards, drinks, good conversations and a first kiss. ———————————————————————

Jens zipped up his jacket and went to the front door. He felt in the pocket of his jacket for his bicycle key, but he was not in it.

"Fuck where's my key," Jens thought. He ran to his bedroom and looked at his desk. The key was not there. He looked quickly through his room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

He hurried to the kitchen, almost falling down the stairs on the way. Had he thrown it there when he got home? The key was not on the kitchen table, nor on the counter.

"You've got to be kidding me" the boy thought. He even checked the pantry to see if he had left it there, but the key was nowhere to be seen.

Jens's last hope was that he hadn't locked his bike at all. Then it was praying that he was still there.

"My god I'm such a idiot" Jens thought when he saw his bike with the key in the lock. How long had this taken? Almost five minutes?! Jens jumped on the bike towards the harbor. Why was he so extremely chaotic? He just couldn’t come on time.

...

When he arrived at the harbor, Lucas was already there.

"Sorry I lost my key. I really went all over the house to find it, but apparently my bike was not locked at all…” Jens said a bit breathless from cycling.

Lucas could only laugh. "I think this can really only happen to you"

Lucas might be right about that, Jens thought. "I am the absolute master of chaotic people," Jens said back with raised eyebrows and a cheeky smile.

The boys got on their bikes and headed for his house.

...

“We'll put the bike in the back, that's easier” the boys cycled through a narrow alley and not much later they were behind Jens's house.

"Well, here I live." The boys parked their bikes and walked in. Jens took off his shoes and hung his coat on the overfull coat rack. He saw Lucas look with a look that said, "there is no possibility that my jacket will go with this too without it collapsing." "Uh just hang it over something."

The boys went to the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?" Jens asked with his head already in the fridge. "Yes please" he answered. "Uh we have juice, coke ... I don't know what you like?"

Jens didn't get an answer, so he looked around and what he feared earlier today was reality. Lucas was looking extensively at the old pictures on the wall.

“Uh yes old pictures are hanging everywhere in the house. Nice and embarrassing.” Jens said with a flushed cheeks.

"No this is amazing!" Lucas said enthusiastically. "Isn't this you?" he pointed to an old school photo, about nine years old Jens was there. Jens nodded. "And this? Is that your sister?”

"Yes, that's Lotte, she's only eight, by the way, which also explains the drawings on the fridge," Jens said while he closed the fridge. "Is Coke good?" and Lucas nodded.

"You said eight years, this really isn’t bad," said Lucas with admiration. "I couldn't do this when I was eight!"

"Do you draw then?" Jens aked. “Yes, I have always attended a Waldorf school in the Netherlands. So, there was always a lot of room for creativity. My mother thought that was important for my development. That's why started painting and drawing I think.” Lucas said almost shyly.

"So not just the skater boy I've seen so far," Jens joked.

"No not just a skater boy"

The boys sat down at the kitchen table with their drinks. "And you? Are you also doing something creative or are you really just the skater boy I've seen so far?” Lucas asked with genuine interest and a slight grin on his face.

"I play the guitar, but I don't think I can get much further than that," Jens replied.

"I should hear that one time," said Lucas with a smile on his face. "Only if I get to see your drawings" Jens said back teasingly "at least if that's not too personal" he quickly added realizing how personal art could be. But Lucas agreed. "Next time, then," the blond boy said.

Next time, Jens thought. That sounds good.

The boys' small talk went on for a while until Jens asked if Lucas would like to have another drink.

"a beer?" Jens asked. And Lucas replied as if he had never heard anything better. Jens took two bottles of beer from the fridge and put them on the table. He also took a deck of cards.

"Can you play cards?" he asked. To which Lucas replied with a provocative tone "and if I can play cards" and the boys both laughed at it.

...

A few games of cards and two beers later Jens gave up “how is this possible, people never want to play cards with me because I always win, and you just finished me like it was nothing”

"Oh… has Lucas destroyed jens his little ego," said Lucas in a teasing voice and half a pout. Both boys couldn't stop laughing.

Lucas took some more crispy nuts and put them in his mouth. "Do you know what my party trick is?" he asked. Jens shook his head. "I can float crispy nuts in the air," he said through his laughter. Jens had no idea what to imagine. "I must see that!" Lucas tried to back out of it, but Jens was steadfast. He had to see this.

"Okay, but then I have to lie flat." And not much later, the boys had moved into the living room with the bag of crispy nuts.

Jens looked wide-eyed at Lucas. "Dude how?!" he said in surprise. "I have to be able to do this, it is brilliant." So not much later Jens himself was on the couch.

"Okay, you need a round nut that isn't too big." So Jens picked up a round crispy nut. "Then you put it on your lips" Jens followed the instructions of a slightly tipsy Lucas. "And then you have to blow gently." Jens tried but failed very hard. He tried a few more times but failed really hard.

"How do you do this, it is impossible," said Jens, almost irritated. "You should blow softer," said Lucas. Jens had to be able to do it "even softer, that really is impossible!". Both boys burst out laughing at Jens's frustration. “You know what, I give up. You already destroyed my ego while playing cards” and Jens sat up straight on the couch. Lucas dropped down next to him and said with a grin “sorry…” “ah stop it” Jens said back.

"should I put some music on?" Jens asked, already getting up. Lucas nodded. “What should I put on. I really have no idea what the Dutch are listening to.” Jens said teasingly. "you can decide I listen to almost everything thanks to my friends in the Netherlands." Lucas replied. "Everything?" Jens asked in a provocative tone. Lucas put his hands over his head "oh god what have I started."

Little boy You are in this world so you will have to fight just like me I can know Life is not easy There is adversity at any time (translated from dutch)

Jens looked at a Lucas who sang this song with one hand on his hard. "The Dutch really like their Hazes or not," said Jens, laughing. "Who doesn't love Hazes." Lucas supposedly said back offended. "You are a real Dutchman," Jens said, shaking his head. "But Hazes is okay…. I think," Jens admitted. "okay?" Lucas said, his hands on his hard. "It's always time for Hazes!" and Jens didn’t dare go against it.

"But what do you really listen to, as in everyday life." Jens asked. "Uh that differs a lot, but I think artists like The 1975 or Bon Iver are chill", said Lucas. "I don't know Bon Iver," Jens admitted.

Lucas got up and took the phone from Jens's hand. "I'm sure you know this number."

Come on skinny love just last the year Pour a little salt we were never here My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

"Isn't that Birdy her song?" Jens asked. Lucas looked at Jens and sarcastically said “ouch”. "No Birdy covered this. I think the original is better though.” And Jens joined Lucas's opinion.

Lucas returned the phone to Jens and plopped down on the sofa. Jens scrolled through the list Lucas had put on. "I'll keep this on," said Jens and sat down next to Lucas. Closer than he actually intended. The boys' shoulders touched.

If Lucas does not think this is chill then he will move to the side, Jens thought, but Lucas did not move.

A few songs passed and the conversation got back on track. "But why did you actually come to Antwerp?" Jens asked. Lucas took a deep breath which made boys touch each other even more. "Uh, it's quite complicated," said Lucas. Jens immediately felt guilty about the question. "You don't have to tell if you don't want to"

Lucas nodded, but opened his mouth searching for words. “No it's okay, I lived in Utrecht with my mother, but she is uh… bipolar. I don't know if you know what that is” Jens looked at Lucas and nodded “Yes I do. Sander, Robbe's boyfriend is bipolar ”Lucas nodded and looked for words to go on. “The three of us have decided that it is better for me not to live with her for a while, so now I am here with my father in Antwerp”

"Do you think you're going back to the Netherlands?" Jens secretly hoped not.

"Not any time soon. At least I want to finish my school here.” Lucas took a deep breath “it's just difficult, because my whole life is in the Netherlands. My friends, basically just everything.”

Jens understood Lucas exactly. The boy he has only known since this school year has just opened up here. Maybe it was good for him too.

"I think I understand you," Jens said cautiously. “When my father lost his job, we had to choose between living smaller here in Antwerp or leaving the city… I don't know how I would have managed leaving the city. Without Robbe. ”

"I really miss Kes and Isa very much" said Lucas "never thought I would even miss Jayden as much as I do" and the Boy laughed. "But I immediately felt accepted here." A smile appeared on Jens's face. "You, the boys and the girls were there for me from day one."

Silence fell between the boys. Not an awkward silence, it was a silence that said more than all the words spoken that night.

Jens knew that the feelings for Lucas were more than friendly. He had never felt this fot a boy before. He had never ruled it out, but it was still scary.

Jens felt Lucas's gaze on him, and his whole body heated. Kissing the boy, that's what he wanted all night. But Jens was afraid it would ruin their friendship.

Jens turned his head to Lucas's. Lucas's eyes fixed on his lips.

Without thinking, Jens closed the space between him and Lucas. His lips found Lucas's and Lucas kissed him back.

It was a small cautious kiss, and Jens pulled back gently.

"Uh ... sorry"

"You don't have to apologize," said Lucas with a smile. "If I hadn't wanted it, I wouldn't have kissed you back."

Jens's body simply stopped functioning, so all he could do was nod yes. He opened his mouth searching for words "it's just uh ... I’ve never done that before." He didn't even dare to look at Lucas.

"You are not my first boy." Lucas replied. That made Jens look up "as in ..." Jens started

Lucas finished "Gay".

A short pause followed, until Jens asked, "How did you know you're gay?"

"I am simply not attracted to girls, it just doesn’t work for me" Lucas replied.

"I never knew I could be attracted to boys," Jens said.

“That's okay, right? And that you kissed me doesn't make you gay” Lucas said “you don't have to put a label on yourself just because you kissed a boy.”

"No, I know, but at least I'm not straight." Jens Huffed. And both boys laughed.

"There is much more than gay and straight you know, you just have to discover it." Lucas said. And he was right.

...

"My god it's already half past two," said Lucas. "If I want to keep my father on my side, I really have to go home soon."

"I will cycle with you, because I don't think you really paid attention to how to get back to the harbor." Jens laughed. And Lucas admitted he had no idea how to go back home.

The boys put on their coats and shoes and walked over to the bikes.

"Do you have your key this time?" Lucas joked. And Jens nudged him.

...

Fifteen minutes later they stood in front of a modern apartment complex.

“Thanks for riding along!” Lucas said “next time at my place?”

That sounds good, Jens thought and agreed with the plan.

The boys hugged each other, and Lucas walked towards the door of the complex. Before he went in, he said "I really liked it tonight, would you send a message when you get home?"

Jens would do that. He took his earphones out of his pocket and put on Lucas's playlist.

Evergreens in a dream of an island town Draw a line in the sand and we'll smooth it down Will your side win, get to the middle Count them off one at a time And we'll try, to guess right

[atomic-taco-muffin]

I Love You Chapter 6

Warnings: More flashbacks/angst (this broke my heart)

Sora walked to your room after he had his breakdown. He remembered getting you some of the stuff that he found. You were his little cupcake. But now, you were gone. And there was probably nothing he could do. He started to clean up your room and had little flashbacks of you. 

~~~~

You were just starting to walk. Sora was proud of you for trying. He placed you in the living room and sat across from you. 

“Okay, Cupcake. Try walking towards me. You can do it.” Sora held out his arms. You looked at him, slightly confused. You soon understood what he was trying to say and started to get up on your feet. You wobbled a bit and fell on your butt. But you were determined to walk. You got up again and took a couple steps forward before you fell again. This time, you started to cry. 

“Aww, Cupcake. It’s okay. Don’t cry.” He picked you up and began to calm you down. Once you calmed down, you squirmed wanting to get down. Sora put you down and you were walking, not falling down this time. Sora was so proud! You walked towards the couch and grabbed your teddy bear. 

~~~~

Sora remembered the look on your face when you started to cry. It broke his heart whenever he saw you cry. He opened your closet and saw you old baby mobile (the one he had to replace) and had another flashback. 

~~~~

It was your first night home from the hospital. You woke up in the middle of the night, like any baby does, and started to cry. Sora heard you from the baby monitor and came in to help you go back to sleep. He checked your diaper. Nope! Still good. He went to the kitchen to make your bottle. He gave you your bottle and you drank it. After you drank it, Sora burped you but you were still crying. 

“I wish you can talk so I can understand why you’re crying.” Sora whined. He took you to his room and laid down. You soon fell asleep. You just wanted to be with Sora. 

“Oh. You just wanted to spend the night with me. Okay, Cupcake. I got you.” You and Sora soon fell asleep for the rest of the night.

~~~~

Sora went to turn off all the lights in your room, including your fairy lights. But before he could turn off the fairy lights he heard your voice. 

DADDY! DON’T TURN OFF THE LIGHTS! I’M SCARED OF THE DARK!

Sora turned around but you weren’t there. He looked around your room but heard your voice again.

Daddy. I’m scared. 

“Cupcake? Where are you?” He looked around but couldn’t see you. 

Right here. In your heart.

Sora placed his hand over his heart. He let out a breathless laugh. You were okay. The next couple of days, he would hear and sometimes see you laughing and talking to him. One day, Sora went to the store to get some food. He saw you in the cart wanting your favorite sugar cereal. Normally he would say no, but considering your vulnerable state, he put in the cart and continued shopping. Later that night, he went to put you to bed when he had a flashback to your toddler bed.

~~~~

You were 3. Which meant that you got to sleep in an actual bed. Sora bought you a cute little princess bed. When you entered the room, you ran to the bed and jumped on it. He giggled and picked you up. 

“No more (Y/n)’s jumping on the bed!” You laughed as Sora bounced you around. He laid you on the bed and told you a bedtime story. You fell asleep halfway through the story. Sora smiled and gave you a good night kiss. 

~~~~

He put you to sleep but after an hour, you ran to Sora’s room to spend the night there. Sora was deep in sleep so he didn’t notice you. You snuggled close to him and went back to sleep. 

~~~~

The next day, Riku and Kairi were in Radiant Garden, trying to find you. It was super hard considering they have no idea what you look like. They soon found Xemnas with you. Roxas was right. It was weird seeing an Organization member with a child. Also you weren’t crying or screaming for help. 

“What if she’s actually his daughter? Or something else?” Kairi asked. 

“Maybe. But we can’t be sure. We should ask her.” Riku said. They waited for Xemnas to leave and that’s when they approached you. They saw that you were drawing you and Xemnas with some chalk. And also how you wrote your name and your age afterwards. 

“Hi. Are you here by yourself?” Kairi asked. 

“Yeah. But my daddy’s coming right back.” Riku looked at the drawing and saw your name. 

“Kairi, look.” he whispered. Kairi looked at the drawing and also saw your name. 

“Is that Sora’s little one?” she asked. 

“I think so.” Before they could ask you some more questions, you ran off to the fountain court. 

“Wait, come back!” Kairi said. But you were gone. Kairi was about to go looking for you but Riku stopped her. 

“If we go looking for her, then Organization members might come after us.” 

“Right. We should head back to Master Yen Sid.” 

“Agreed.” They headed back to Master Yen Sid to let them know the situation. 

~~~~

Back at the tower, Kairi and Riku delivered the news. Sora was glad that you were okay. But he wanted to go find you. Master Yen Sid that he wasn’t allowed to go because he hasn’t been able to wield his keyblade in so long. Mickey agreed, and so did everyone else. Sora looked down and started to cry again. You wanted to help him, but you knew that if you did, the others will think that Sora is going crazy. 

“I shall assign Roxas, Xion, Lea, and Isa to find (Y/N).” the master said. (i read that in his voice). Sora still looked down. Roxas came up to him and put his hand on Sora’s shoulder. Sora looked up.

“We’ll get her back. Don’t worry.”  Sora smiled slightly. Later that night, Sora was making dinner. You sat in the living room, hugging your knees to you chest. Sora came in, saying that dinner was ready and saw your sad face. 

“Cupcake? What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“I’m lost... I don’t know where I am. Or who I belong to..I’m scared.” You cried looking confused. 

“Oh Cupcake. Come here.” Sora wrapped you in a hug. He knew you weren’t actually there. But he could feel your touch. It got him thinking, was the Organization hurting you? And were you loved? Probably not. This was the Organization after all. He didn’t know this, but the Organization planted a piece of Xemnas’ ‘heart’ inside of you. 

~~~~

Back at the Castle That Never Was, You were playing in a very special room you were given that had all of your games, toys, and more. You were playing with some of your new dolls, when Xemnas told you that it was time to get ready for bed. You did as you were told and climbed into bed. Xemnas came in to read you your bedtime story. After the story, he tucked you in, gave you your good night kiss, and put on the music box. 

~~~~

The next day, Sora took you to secluded part of the beach where people wouldn’t think that he’s going crazy.  You were building a sand castle in Sora’s imagination while he was watching the view, praying that the Organization wasn’t hurting you. He then saw Yuki walking along the beach towards the secret place. Sora ran up to him and grabbed him by the arm.

“Where is my daughter?!” Sora yelled. Yuki said nothing. 

“Where is she? Please tell me.” Sora begged. 

“Why does it matter? You lied to her! So she wanted to leave. Don’t worry we’re taking good care of her.” Yuki said. He then threw one of your old teddy bears in front of Sora’s feet. Sora had enough of this. He’s going to rescue you by himself whether his friends like it or not. He was able to create a somewhat realistic version of an Organization coat and went undercover to find you. Thankfully, the other members didn’t notice him. He walked through the halls of the castle and found you in your special room. You looked up. 

“Hi. I’m (Y/N). What’s your name?” you asked. It broke his heart that you didn’t know who he was. 

“Uh, My name is Saxor.” he said. 

“That’s a cool name. Wanna play with me?”

“Sure. I’d love to.” The two of you played around together. He reminded you of Yuki a little bit, but better. You didn’t know why you liked him better. You just did. Pretty soon, it was time for him to go. He needed to get out of there before he got caught. You were sad that your playdate had to end but you knew that the Organization works a lot. You said okay and he left. When Sora got home, he started crying again. It was nice to know that they didn’t hurt you and that you were having fun with the toys you had. But he wanted his cupcake back. And he was going to get you back. One way or the other. 

[emilianopavone]

Self Para 003.

Though he questioned the choice as soon as he walked in the door, there were several explanations Emiliano could give for why he was going to church on a Thursday afternoon. The first was his mother, a reminder that if he was meant to be a practicing Catholic it might help to actually practice. The second was mere happenstance, a trip into town for business that made the pitstop convenient if not incredibly ironic. But the third, and perhaps most important reason, was Montgomery. He wasn’t sure why and he wasn’t sure when, but after the second sleepless night wrapped in the man’s arms, it was clear that his magic bullet for quieting his restless thoughts wasn’t so magic anymore.

Emil wasn’t worried about the lost sleep, a problem that had become as familiar as its many remedies, but he was worried about his ability to keep hiding it. Montgomery’s habit for noticing things he didn’t want him to was matched only by his penchant for worrying, so in the interest of heading off a host of questions he couldn’t answer honestly, he decided to take him up on his offer. He decided to talk to someone.

Father Rosario greeted him with patient silence from the other side of the thin black screen, a comforting lie of anonymity when Emil was certain he would recognize his voice as soon as he spoke. The symbolism, however, was not lost on him, and he had faith that if there was anyone in the city he could talk to without fear of repercussions — social, legal or otherwise — it was him. So he went through the motions of a ritual that held more meaning in its familiarity than its sanctity, crossing himself as he finally broke the silence. 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two and a half years since my last confession.” It felt like a bad start, but at least it was an honest one, and whether he was out of practice or still searching for the right words, he paused long enough for the priest to prompt him gently along.

“What is it that you came to confess?” There was a neutrality to Father Rosario’s tone that Emil wished he could pin down so he could better emulate it, wondering how long he had practiced before he could ask his parishioners to bear their souls to him as if they were truly free of judgement. He wondered if he or Monty would ever figure out how to do the same.

“Well, I haven’t dedicated as much of my time to God as I should.” Or at least as much as his mother thought he should, and not enough to count time passed since his last confession in months instead of years. “I haven’t always kept the Sabbath or come to Mass. I’ve given into temptation. Temptations,” he corrected, trying to keep anything coy out of his tone when it seemed contrary to the point, “Drinking...a lot. A little less than before, but probably still more than I’m supposed to. Smoking — no drugs though — just the smoking. And sex. A lot of that, too. It’s just with one person now, so I’m not sure if that makes it better.” Emil was fairly certain it didn’t, and he opted to leave out exactly what kind of sex he was having when it was nothing he would apologize for.

“Honor your mother...I could do better with that one. Coveting your neighbor’s possessions, too,” he continued, ticking his way through the commandments and wondering if it was better to list the ones he was following rather than each one he wasn’t. “I’ve been trying not to lie, but I’m not sure that’s the same as telling the truth.” He paused after the words, sincerity surfacing in the midst of a shallow list that made him wonder if that’s what this was. A list of Catholic sins that were all true, but not honest. Stalling more than confessing, and it wasn’t surprising to know Father Rosario had practice with that as well.

“Telling the truth is hard,” he started, neutral tone replaced with warm empathy, “Confession is hard. We have to be at peace with ourselves and the world doesn’t make that easy, does it? It is filled with distractions. Temptations. Things that draw us away from God and make us feel shame. But God is never ashamed of us, that’s what we have to remember. He never stops loving us. Only we can chose to turn away from that love when we let shame block out His light.”

Emil listened quietly, gaze resting on his hands and staying there in the still silence that followed, a long moment that felt like a deep breath. There was a slowness in churches, a disregard for the passage of time that he needed right now. So far removed from the sharp, quick wit of his conversations, of questions that demanded answers, and quiet moments that spoke for him in ways he didn’t want when he couldn’t find the right words fast enough. He appreciated having time that didn’t tick, taking a moment to slip off the plain silver ring that hid his thoughts, playing with it between his fingers like he might have a chance to see them now, too.

“I don’t know if I’m a good person.” Another pause, another breath. “I think I am sometimes. I try to be. But I feel like it’s harder for me than everyone else and I’m not sure what that says about me.” It was a confession he’d already made, less painful the second time he said it out loud, but he wasn’t sure what that said about him either. An ebbing fear or a growing numbness to it.

“It says you’re human,” Father Rosario replied, “We are made in His image, but we are not divine. We see His image in us and we glimpse that divinity when we choose to do good. It is the choosing that matters, and choosing can be hard, even painful.”

“See I did that. I chose to do a good thing. I chose to save someone’s life, but I...” Emil paused, rushing in his explanation but hesitating in his confession, the scalpel feeling so much deadlier when it was in his own hand, “But I had to do horrible things to do it. I had to lie, I had to steal, I had to break laws.” It was another laundry list of sins, worse this time, crimes that felt foolish to disclose yet still didn’t feel like enough, so he cut deeper. “I hurt people,” he admitted after another moment, swallowing hard and pushing deeper, “A lot of people...mostly good ones. Mostly friends.” Messages he thought he’d see again every time he opened his phone, Isa’s number long since blocked when he only remembered a string of pleas. I miss you. Can we Facetime? Can you call? I just want to hear your voice. When are you coming back?

Emil stopped twirling the ring between his fingers, staring at it frozen for a long moment. “I think I hurt the person I was trying to save the most.” It was a cut deep enough that he could feel it, a truth both obvious and overwhelming, and whatever came next in his list was gone. Not sure if it was an argument or an apology that he’d lost track, but he did his best to reclaim the train of thought. “I chose the right thing — the good thing — that’s what matters. So when does it feel like it? When do I see that glimpse of divinity?”

He had looked for it. Some sign that blood could be repaid in gold. In honey-hued drinks and sun-painted skin. He looked for it beside him every morning and every evening, proof in his presence, in the warmth that wrapped around him. But there wasn’t enough comfort in the soft breath on the back of his neck, and he couldn’t find credit in a heartbeat that said Montgomery was alive. Too much blame stitched between still fading scars he was realizing might never go away. 

“God never asks us to turn to evil for the sake of good,” Father Rosario said after a moment of careful thought, “He will sometimes ask us to make great sacrifices, ones we may not think that we can survive, but we will.”

“But isn’t that what this is?” Emil interrupted, remembering he preferred an argument to an apology, “I gave up everything. I sacrificed my job, my relationships, my safety…” God he was going to die. He remembered it the way he always did, with a sudden terrifying intensity that he had to ignore before it paralyzed him. “I made the choice to do something good, the choice that screwed me over and ruined all of it. And I don’t get to complain. I don’t get pity or comfort or forgiveness because I gave that up too.” And you know why. He knew why he couldn’t be trusted, why he couldn’t be angry, why he’d lost every argument before it ever started, and why the only person he could talk to was sitting behind a partition. No sympathetic ear he could convince to see his pain as anything but self-induced, no friend who would pity him more than they hated him, and at least it hurt less to hear his justifications picked apart by a man who barely knew him.

“I gave up the chance to be the hero because being a hero wouldn’t have saved him. I made all the hard calls, I made all the sacrifices, and what do I get?” Emil tried to hold onto some shred of self-righteousness, but he felt it breaking apart as quickly as he built it up. Disgust replacing indignation as his anger turned back inward. A poison he couldn’t stop from spreading, and every time he tried it just got worse. I just want you to be okay too.

Father Rosario waited this time, letting the brief spark of resentment burn itself out before offering guidance both harsh and kind. “God does not pity sinners, and he does not comfort them,” he stated clearly, “But God does forgive them, and in that forgiveness you may find comfort.”

“How?” The blunt question was met by a pregnant pause, the priest cautiously picking through its ambiguity but as soon as he started to articulate an answer, Emil cut him off. “How is God’s forgiveness going to make this feel better? How is anything going to make this feel better?” His voice wavered, not from anger, but a desperate despair that was left in its wake, ring clenched in a fist that slowly tightened around it, searching for an anchor. “When I think about it for too long I can’t breathe. It is this...overwhelming weight and it is all-encompassing and suffocating and so I have to put it away. I have to ignore it or I can’t function. And sometimes it’s hours and sometimes it’s days but then I feel it again and it’s worse, it’s always worse. Because I put it away and I shouldn’t get to do that right?” The question broke on a single, sharp laugh, more hysterical than humorous. “I should have to feel it, I should have to feel this terrible, sickening guilt all the time, but I can’t. I can’t. So I put it away, and every time it comes back, it’s worse and worse and--” it feels like it’s going to kill me. 

Emil stopped short, words caught in his throat when it didn’t feel fair to say them out loud. Irrational, selfish fears that he pushed back down with everything else that came boiling over. Nails digging into his palm and holding his breath until he could let it out more slowly, waiting for something better than his heartbeat to fill the dead air between them.

“Do you know why God forgives us?” Father Rosario asked eventually, shifting on the other side of the screen to face him more directly, as if he might better impart his guidance if he could catch his gaze through cross-hatched holes, “God does not forgive us because he believes what we did is not wrong or that we have served our penance with a couple of prayers and a priest’s blessing. He forgives us because he believes we can do better. He knows we can. His forgiveness does not right our wrongs, and sometimes we can’t either. But his forgiveness gives us the grace to move forward without judgement. To do better.”

“What if I don’t want God’s forgiveness,” Emil replied, words heavy and numb when he felt too spent to offer anything but cynicism. A humanist boyfriend who might be proud of his skepticism if it wasn’t so self destructive.

“Then why have you come here today?” Father Rosario waited a long time for an answer, a practice of patience and of faith, but eventually even he was forced to offer a different kind of patience when Emil remained motionless and silent on the other side of the screen. “He offers forgiveness to all those who seek it. When you are ready, He will be, too.”

Emil cracked a crooked smile, not sure if he found the promise funny or just tragically ironic, but he could recognize a polite farewell when he heard one. Slipping the ring back on his finger, and standing up to leave, he was stopped by Father Rosario. One last question he asked as his professional persona dropped for something more personal. “Emiliano, why don’t you want God’s forgiveness? Is it because you’re not ready to ask for it, or because you’re not ready to receive it?” 

Somewhere between a lament and a plea, Emil thought it was the kind of question that would impress him in a game. Brilliant but brutal and cutting close to something important. But he missed by an inch, and so his answer came easily. “It’s because nothing worth anything was ever free.”

Before Father Rosario could refute the claim, the door shut, and the confessional booth was empty once again.

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 10

Title:  I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 10 of 14 (ch. 1) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 23.713  Warnings: Language, internalized homophobia, mental illness, panic attacks & anxiety, the press, very vaguely referenced past suicide attempt

AO3

Summary:  The one where it’s been two years since Isak last saw or spoke with Even, and no one knows that Isak ever knew Even at all

Present

Isak spends the entire morning on the phone.

He makes the mistake of picking up the phone when Sonja had called – he doesn’t even know how she would’ve gotten his number, but it had been her, Isak recognized her voice. Ever since then, she’s been calling, or numbers Isak’s checked belong to the rest of Even’s team have called.

Maybe it’s shitty of him not to pick up, but once he’d assured Sonja that Even wasn’t injured – no comment if he was with him or well or anything – she’d started talking business, which, Isak can’t.

He tries to take care of his own business afterwards. He can skip lectures no problem, Sana will lend him her notes, he knows, but there’s lab work and group work that he can’t just stay away from. Study-buddy sessions with Sana can be rescheduled, but some of the other things are time sensitive, and working it out leaves him more exhausted than he’s felt since Even showed up at his front door, dreary and exhausted himself, and about to crash so hard he’s barely moved 16 hours later.

Isak had managed to doze off for a few hours in that time span, propped up in his desk chair because getting into bed with Even when everything was so messed up hadn’t seemed like a good idea. Hadn’t seemed like a fair thing to do – not to Even, but also not to Isak – lying next to him like that, as if their lives aren’t a fucking mess, like they’re still kids who don’t know any better, who life hasn’t fucked over.

He’s probably reading too much into it, knows he is. The first thing Even had done once Isak had said he could stay was, after all, to stumble against Isak and curl himself around him, a solid weight and like he’d never left.

Isak can’t remember the last time he’d hugged Even. That’s a… a something. A thought that actually scares him a bit, makes him feel like he’s taken a punch to the stomach.

It had been everything it had always been, though, even after all those years. Even was bigger, had somehow managed to grow even taller than he’d been back… back then, but so has Isak, so it evens out. Isak had still been able to comfortably fit his head underneath Even’s chin, had had to stand on his tippy toes to wrap his arms all the way around Even’s shoulders, to hold him so tightly they’d end up fusing together if they didn’t let go.

He’d gotten Even into his bed, Even falling asleep almost instantly, far more drained than he’d looked, which was a feat in itself. Isak had spent the next hours ignoring the boys’ increasingly worried looks and attempts of concerned comfort and had just stared at Even in his bed instead.

Whenever Isak has seen him on screen – the only access to Even he’s had for two years, barring the two accidental meet-ups – Even had been the same way as Isak had remembered him to be; larger than life, so charming and so magnetic and positively mesmerizing with his words and visions.

Even looks small now, covered up to his nose with Isak’s bed sheets, curled up and with dark purple bags underneath his eyes.

He’d left the room at the first buzz of his phone, then it hadn’t stopped buzzing since and Isak had stayed in the kitchen, finally slumping down on one of the chairs and given up looking at his phone.

“Hey,” Jonas says quietly, knocking against the doorframe to warn Isak of his presence. Isak still startles. “How are you?”

Isak snorts, goes back to staring at his phone placed on the kitchen table, wrong side up just so he wouldn’t have to see the numbers of people he can’t talk to right now.

Jonas doesn’t try to dig an answer out of him. Probably winces at his choice of words if Isak knows him well enough.

Isak doesn’t know how he is. He wants to cry, but not really. He mainly just feels numb.

“How long have you been up for?” Jonas moves towards the coffee machine, careful to keep his eyes on Isak.

Isak doesn’t know. He won’t be surprised if more time has managed to pass than he thinks has. He doesn’t want to check the time on his phone because he doesn’t want to check his phone, and he can’t work it out with the lack of exhaustion from the wired tension that refuses to leave him.

So he shrugs, keeps his gaze on the table. They should be more careful to clean it – there are several stains from spilled beer and sodas and condensation from bottles.

The stains are making him antsier than he already is, so Isak goes back to staring at the backside of his phone.

He doesn’t know how long he can get away with not going to school. He definitely needs to call some of his professors to ask for an extension, if he at this rate even gets close to getting started on his schoolwork.

It’s funny, Isak notes without any humor whatsoever. For so long, Even had been the most important thing to him, had been what he was most proud of, and then when Even had left and Isak had gotten his head out of his ass with Jonas’ help, he’d fixated on his studies, on getting his degree. Almost as a pseudo-replacement – he couldn’t get Even, but he could definitely get a degree.

Now Even’s back and Isak’s practically letting his degree fly out the window. Well, that’s probably an exaggeration, but if he continues at this rate, or if this temporary break has to turn into a longer term dropout, then he’s lucky if he’ll even get to re-sit his exams next summer.

“How is…” Jonas stirs a spoon in his cup of coffee despite not having poured the water in yet. “How is Even?”

The sound of Even’s name in Jonas’ mouth is… weird.

It’s not like Jonas hasn’t said Even’s name before, but it’s usually been Even Bech Næsheim and he’d been referring to him as this distant figure, famous for his movies and Magnus’ obsession, not as an actual person, definitely not as a physical being currently in his home, sleeping in his roommate’s bed.

Isak supposes that’s another thing he’ll have to get used to. He’ll have to get used to people talking about Even around him, and he’ll have to get used to people knowing he knows Even, and he’ll have to get used to people knowing.

“Asleep.”

Even hadn’t stirred in the couple hours Isak had managed to pass out. He should probably get him to drink something soon; maybe get some food in him if he can take it.

Jonas nods. “That’s good. He looked tired.”

“Yeah.”

Tired after the mania. Tired after running around naked at an internationally famous, televised award show. Tired in general.

Isak sure as hell is tired.

Jonas keeps stirring the spoon. The water finishes boiling, but he doesn’t add it. Isak doesn’t move either. Just sits there and stares like an actual idiot.

“Listen, man,” Jonas draws it out, enough that Isak tenses in his seat. “I’m sorry about last night, about just shouting like that. It wasn’t cool, and it wasn’t alright for me to do that to you.”

Last night feels like years have passed since, everything that happened before Even showing up at the door seems like eons ago, Isak can barely remember all the things Jonas had said through the haze and deliria of finding out Even was having an episode, and then Even being there, and then Even being there, and then having to help Even.

He doesn’t know how to tell Jonas that, though, so he just shrugs. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

Jonas scoffs, but he mostly just sounds tired, not angry. “It does, it really does. I just wanted you to know I shouldn’t have done it, and that I would change it if I could.”

I would change it if I could. How many times hasn’t Isak thought that exact sentence when he’d thought back on past choices and a life that seemed like it happened to someone else, another Isak in a different universe that this Isak got a glimpse into the life of.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says instead. Considers telling Jonas he can make up for it by buying him a beer next night out, but he really isn’t in the mood for a drink and he can’t imagine going out for the next very, very, very long while.

“Do you need to call the university?”

Another shrug. Isak thinks of his professors, of Sana, of the administration, the list of people growing longer and longer until he’s dizzy and a bit nauseous. “Probably.”

Jonas finally adds the water then goes back to stirring. The scent of coffee fills the room, Isak can’t tell if it’s helping to alleviate his growing headache, or if it’s just making it worse.

“You can tell us, you know, if you need help. Or just – anything.”

Isak stares harder at his phone. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. If he starts crying now, he doesn’t know when or if he’ll stop.

“Yeah!” Magnus says, too loudly, startling Isak, from the doorway as he strides across the kitchen, getting a glass of water. “You need to personally hand in that essay today, don’t you? We can hang around until you get back. He’ll probably be asleep for a while longer, but we could make some breakfast for him.”

Isak blinks at Magnus. Then blinks again.

Jonas frowns as well. “He’s already been asleep for, like, more than 12 hours – how much –“

“Dude,” Magnus interrupts, scrunching up his nose at Jonas. “If you had spent the last, probably, week on a high like that, your body would be begging for some sleep, too.”

Isak blinks. How did he –

Jonas frowns even harder, his eyebrows fully curled in now. “High – what, are you telling me that was a drug-induced stunt?” Jonas switches between looking incredulously at Magnus and then over to Isak, like Isak’s in a position to confirm whether or not Hollywood’s worst reputation is true. Isak just blinks.

“The fuck, how did you know?”

Now Magnus is the one who blinks owlishly at Isak. “It’s… obvious?”

Isak nods towards Jonas. “It clearly isn’t.”

Magnus just keeps looking confused. “My mom is bipolar. Did you not know that?”

Isak did not know that, thank you very much, Magnus. He’s met the woman, sure, but not during an episode, and Magnus has never said a goddamn word about it, that’s for certain.

“Bipolar?” Jonas asks, not specifying to whom, but he’s ignored nonetheless.

“No,” Isak bites, huddling himself further down in his chair, “I didn’t.”

Magnus just blinks again. “Huh. I really thought I told you guys.”

Isak doesn’t bother shaking his head. It’s not like it matters now, anyway.

“Oh, then I’ve got to tell you about this one time she got pissed with the NSB, and so she found out who the regional director was and sent in a resignation letter in his name. It was fucking hilarious. All it said was, like: ‘I give up, I can’t work here anymore. Goodbye.’”

The dissonance between Magnus laughing and Isak just so out of it with how little control he has in his life is too great for Isak to wrap his head around.

Jonas is nodding along with Magnus’ story, but his eyes are wide and Isak can tell it’s all a little too much for him as well.

“Did Even ever do anything wild?” Magnus asks before he can help himself.

Isak flinches, doesn’t think of long, confused nights with Even switching between twenty scripts or hyper-focusing on one, where he’d have Isak lie in a pose for several hours because of the inspiration it gave Even, doesn’t think of Even painting an entire mural, doesn’t think of a lot of things.

He does think about Even running around naked at an award show, and what that could possibly do to his career. Like, end it, for one.

“No, nothing like that,” he says instead. During the admittedly short period of time where Even’s medication hadn’t been worked out, leaving him with only smaller episodes, he’d only ever really fixated on his work or on Isak. He hadn’t done something like Magnus’ mom with NSB, hadn’t really done anything that could be considered ‘funny’ in someone else’s eyes.

Magnus looks at him for a beat too long, Isak doesn’t like the way it feels like it goes through him, then opens his mouth to say something when Mahdi interrupts.

“Are the curtains still up?” Mahdi asks, stumbling over his joggers and looking sleep-rumbled. “The circus is back in town.”

“Shit, seriously?” Jonas moves towards the window to pull Mahdi’s sheet more securely over the corner. “What the fuck, man.”

There’s a small scratch near the bottom of his phone where he’d scratched it with the phone charger. Don’t fucking cry.

“Are the curtains drawn in your room?” Mahdi asks. Isak doesn’t even realize he’s talking to him before he asks, “Isak? Are the curtains drawn in your room?”

They are, Isak remembers they are, because he’d barely been able to see Even when he’d left to answer the phone, but also because he knows he hasn’t opened them since the certificate was exposed in the article.

He doesn’t know how to answer, though. Don’t cry.

“Hey.”

He feels a hand squeezing his shoulder. Magnus, Isak sees, when he looks up and sees Magnus’ blue eyes and a smile plastered on his face even as it looks like it takes a lot of effort.

Magnus squeezes his shoulder again. “Let’s make some breakfast, yeah?”

Isak doubts Even will actually eat it, but if he stares at his phone for one more second he’ll go insane, so he gets up and lets Magnus guide him through the kitchen, mindlessly going through the motions of making a cup of tea, some toast, and a glass of water.

Isak remembers the way Even used to take his tea – just like his coffee, with lots of sugar, enough to cause a heart attack as Isak would constantly remind him whilst Even laughed and made him taste some as well – which is something that leaves him frozen mid-motion before Magnus gets him going again. It’s such a small, insignificant detail to remember, and Isak can’t tell if he only remembers because seeing Even is triggering a lot of repressed memories or if he would’ve been able to recall that piece of information anyway.

Even is still asleep when he walks into his bedroom, still looking as small and exhausted from what Isak can see, which isn’t a lot in the darkness.

He still hasn’t moved since when Isak left, but he does when Isak takes a deep breath to brace himself and carefully makes sure to step on the floorboard that creaks piercingly.

“Morning,” Isak says cheerfully. He hopes it doesn’t come across as fake as it feels, as it sounds to his own ears.

Then again, he doubts Even particularly cares right now. He isn’t up to answering, either way, and the quiet feels stifling.

“I made toast,” Isak continues instead. He wants to walk over to his window and draw the curtains, let some light and air into the room, but he doesn’t know what it’s like out there right now, so he doesn’t. “Magnus made you a cup of tea. There’s also cereal if you’d rather. I would’ve made you eggs, but –“

He lets it hang in the air how Even was always the one who cooked the eggs because his turn out perfect and Isak’s turn out either overcooked or runny, no in-between. He doesn’t feel ready to bring up something so mundane about their past, not yet, anyway. It’s too early, still feels too much like ripping off a band-aid too quickly, so you know you rip off the scar tissue as well.

“I want to sleep,” Even mumbles, mostly muffled by the pillow and duvet.

Isak stills, has to take in a controlled breath in order to not let his emotions get the best of him.

It was never like it was only the good moments, the fond memories he had of Even that hurt to think about, it was all of them. Seeing Even like this again, it’s – It’s a little too much a lot too soon, if Isak’s honest with himself.

“Alright.” He’s proud of himself the way he sounds – not calm, necessarily, but not angry or put off with Even’s lack of want to participate in conversation. “Have a sip of water, then, before you do that.”

It would be best if he could get him to eat, just a few bites of the toast or something. There’s still time, though, before he has to leave, and if Even doesn’t wake up before then Mahdi doesn’t have class until this afternoon and no other obligations before that.

If he even ends up going, that is. It’ll probably be just as bad as when the article first got published – Isak doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle that, all those journalists yelling at him and photographers snapping pictures at his tired face.

Even’s hair flops down over his forehead, a few strands still clinging on to the meticulous style Even’s notorious for at this point. He looks soft and tired and so fucking exhausted in general. Isak doubts he looks better himself.

He really wants another hug from Even right now.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispers, daring to brush his fingers through Even’s hair, just once. It’s a little tacky from stale product, but it’s still soft and it’s still Even.

Even doesn’t say anything about it, doesn’t do anything about it either. Just burrows down under the duvet again and closes his eyes.

Isak can’t tell if he’s already fallen asleep or not, so he gets off the bed carefully and tries to gather his laptop, his charger, and a few books to finish the essay he needs to hand in today.

Considering the circumstances, he probably wouldn’t have bothered. Would’ve spent the day watching Netflix and attempting to fall asleep before trying to get some more food in Even, but this assignment is worth twenty percent of his final grade, and his professor is infamous for not handing out extensions, and getting the administration involved would take too long and be too difficult a process when Isak isn’t the one who’s ill. Doing the damn assignment is easier than not handing it in and trying to rectify it afterwards.

He still is actively trying not to flunk out of university, Isak reminds himself when he sits down on the couch, as doing homework is actually one of the last things he wants to be doing right now. The words dance around on the page for a few minutes, which is a sign Isak probably needs sleeps more badly than he’d thought he did, but he can feel he won’t be able to fall asleep were he to try now.

So he opens his document instead – only about 60% of the required amount of words done – and hopes determination will overpower sheer exhaustion.

Sleep is the cousin of death, he remembers Even saying sometimes when his mind wouldn’t let him sleep.

Isak definitely feels more dead than alive right now, that’s for damn certain.

OOOOO

“Hey,” Isak whispers, shaking Even gently by his shoulder until he opens his eyes.

He looks even more exhausted than he had when Isak woke him up for breakfast.

“I need to hand in an essay, and then I’ve got a tutorial.” Even just blinks. Isak tries not to feel too discouraged by it. “Mahdi and Magnus are both staying, if you remember them. They’ll make you some food when you wake up if I’m not back by then.”

Another blink. Isak feels it settling deeply in his bones, hates it but unable to help it.

“I’ll come hom- I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” he tries to hide his wince at the slip-up by squeezing Even’s shoulder. He sort of hopes for a nod, or a verbal confirmation, or another blink, but Even just closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

Isak tries to take a deep breath in, but his lungs hurt too much, it’s still too hard to breathe.

Isak really needs for it to stop being so difficult to breathe soon.

“Thanks again,” he tells Magnus who has taken up Isak’s vacated spot on the couch.

Magnus waves him off like it’s nothing. Isak doesn’t know how to tell him any differently, so he meets up with Jonas by the front door, throws on his shoes and his jacket and goes to face the vultures.

OOOOO

Sana texts him when he’s on the tram, about three minutes away from UiO.

One time offer, Isabel, do you need me to swing by to pick up your essay?

Isak nearly facepalms, doesn’t because he has enough decorum not to and because enough people stared at him when he got on the tram with photographers flashing pictures of him. He can see a few younger people trying to discreetly take a few pictures of him as well.

If he had known he wouldn’t need to subject himself to all of this, just by asking Sana to come by he would’ve.

‘s cool, Sanasol he writes back, feeling like kicking himself. Jonas gives him a worried look, but thankfully keeps quiet, like he has ever since the press stopped hounding them. Omw already.

How Jonas can read him so well to know Isak will snap if someone talks to him, Isak doesn’t know – especially considering how rotten he’s been at it for so long by now, absolutely nothing coming naturally, but Jonas has always been like that. His cool, chill nature the complete antithesis to Isak’s high-strung grumpy self.

The quiet a few weeks ago would’ve scared Isak to death. He would’ve thought Jonas had managed to work it out, that he knew, and now everything was ending, but now Jonas does know, all of the boys know – or they know something, they don’t know enough, and they’ve been left with as much guesswork as the rest of the world, really – but they haven’t stopped being his friends and they haven’t kicked him out.

And now Jonas is being an absolute god-tier best friend, trying to block Isak from everyone’s sight, which is a comical feat considering Isak is taller, and he’s keeping quiet because Isak doesn’t have room for anyone else in his already overflowing head.

Isak fucking loves his friends, and he’s been too scared of losing them to tell them that. He should fix that – put it on the list of the million other things he also needs to fix in his life.

The only thing Jonas had said was when they’d gotten on the tram and he’d asked Isak if he was okay. Isak hadn’t known how to tell him that his ears were still ringing, that he felt like he was going to be sick, that he simultaneously felt a thousand tons heavy yet floating outside of his body. That all he really hears over the ringing is hungry journalists shouting at him, asking if Even is still staying with him, if he’s fucking psychotic, if he needs to stay in the closed ward. How long he’s been insane for, or if it’s a new development, if it’s a drug addiction, if it’s something else entirely.

Saved you a seat is all Sana texts back.

Jonas follows him to his classroom, despite Political Science being all the way across campus from the science department. Isak wants to hug him, really fucking wants a hug himself, but he isn’t willing to chance loitering around the halls or getting anyone’s attention. He has enough attention on him already to last a lifetime, so he goes inside the classroom instead, spotting Sana all the way in the back in the corner of the room.

“Everyone take a seat,” the professor orders. He sounds tired as well. “When I call out your name, come hand in your assignment. If you don’t hand anything in, I can’t check you off on my list, and it’s an automatic F – remember, it affects your final ECTS points. It is not possible to ask for an extension. Please have your essays ready, we all have things we need to do today. Everyone ready? Anna Norland.”

Sana sits perfectly poised next to him. Isak feels like an even bigger mess than he had before; he keeps fiddling, shifting in his seat, and taking his phone out of his pocket, back into his pocket, out of his pocket, back into his pocket –

“Alright, stop,” Sana snaps, grabbing his phone and placing it on the table. Isak flips it around so its front side is up, but otherwise he lets go of it at Sana’s pointed glare.

Isak manages two taps on the table before he reaches out for his phone. Maybe he didn’t hear it, maybe Magnus or Mahdi texted to let him know something about Even, maybe Even texted him, he just needs to check –

Sana snatches his wrist out of the air, grabbing a hold of him. Isak stares up at her, wide-eyed.

“I will break it,” she tells him in a tone that very clearly adds on the left out just try me.

Isak isn’t sure whether she’s talking about his wrist or his phone. He’s not all that curious to find out.

He also isn’t in a mood to let someone else step all over him, either, so before he can stop himself he snaps, “It could’ve been an emergency.”

Sana raises one perfect eyebrow and doesn’t even deign him worthy of a reply. “Essay ready. You’re up next,” she says instead.

“Isak Valtersen.”

“Shit,” he curses, scrambling to get the folded up papers hastily printed out of his bag. He trips over said bag when he tries to get to the front of the classroom.

“Today, Mr. Valtersen.”

“Sorry, I – sorry,” he hands over the papers, his spine crumbling a bit at the look fixed upon him, and then he hurries back to his seat.

He feels like he can’t breathe before he sits down, then it all comes whooshing out of him in one big breath. The relief of it only lasts a few seconds, right until he sees the look on Sana’s face.

That just got caught look, that I’m so pissed off right now look, that I can’t believe this or the variation I can believe this, I just really hoped it wouldn’t happen look.

Because then Isak sees where her attention is at. His phone. Which is lit up, the number 12:12 stark white against his dark background, and showing a message-notification from Vilde.

Are you and Even married?!?? And shortly after another one So are you gay?

It feels… it feels like a stab to the heart and like someone has tied an elastic around his lungs and like he has weights attached to his feet and someone has thrown him into a pool, and he’s just sinking, sinking, sinking.

Sana looks at him out of the corner of her eye. She’s biting her lip and clearly debating whether or not it would be more helpful if she said something or remained quiet.

There’s no way she didn’t see the messages. Isak doesn’t even know if there had been more than just the two that had lit up his phone for her to see while he was up at the desk. There could’ve been a million for all he knows, and he only saw the two from Vilde.

He’s out of his chair, out of the room, before Sana has a chance to say a word.

Isak speedwalks down the hallway to get to the exit. He bumps into a group of people, barely remembering to apologize in his haste to worm around them, to get out, get out, get out.

“Shit, isn’t that him –“ he hears before he rounds the corner, throws himself against the automatic door opener and stumbles outside.

He takes in a big gulp of fresh air, feels how it gets stuck somewhere in his throat, none of it reaching his lungs.

Fuck.

He’s got his module coming up now, and going outside means taking the long way around, unless he wants to go back inside and face that group of people, risk facing Sana.

His legs are moving before Isak is aware of it, taking him the long way around the building.

It’s probably a bigger risk, walking around outside like this, but Isak doubts people can’t whisper and sneak photos of him inside as well. Not that that is a particularly comforting thought, either.

His phone feels like it’s burning a hole through his pocket. It hasn’t vibrated once since Vilde’s messages, but Isak’s still wavering on the edge of wanting to check just in case and letting it remain in his pocket.

He can’t even explain the way he feels about it – if he’s just pissed because Sana saw, Sana whom he has to work together with for the rest of the semester, or because Vilde, whom he knows, was the one to ask him like that. Isak doesn’t doubt that he probably has a few similar messages in his inbox, but he doesn’t have any close friends besides the boys, Eva’s girls, and Eskild and Linn, and none of them – besides Vilde – have been forward enough to ask him to his face, even as he had to practically scare the boys into not asking questions, and Eskild was told before everyone else were really made aware.

Isak pushes a door open to one of the side-buildings, hoping he can cut through it to get to the classroom from the back. There shouldn’t be a lot of people loitering around here, which is mainly why Isak does it, risking three locked doors if he’s really unlucky, just to get some peace and quiet for two minutes, please.

“Isak!” someone yells from behind, and Isak can’t deal with anyone else wanting to talk to him, he can’t.

He quickens his pace, turns a corner and half walks, half jogs down the hall, hoping to lose whoever was calling for him.

“Isak!”

He hasn’t. Whoever it is sounds closer and a lot more winded than at the first shout, and Isak realizes he’s going to have to give up unless he wants to start actually running for it.

“Hey!” a hand curls around his shoulder.

It’s not harsh, there’s not even a squeeze, but all the alarm bells in Isak’s head start ringing at the contact and he jerks himself out of the grip. His back ends up pressed against the wall, his shoulder blades pressing harshly into it and he nearly knocks the back of his head out as well as he stares wide-eyed and angrily up at the person.

He’s reached the end of his fuse and all his pent-up anger is about to be unleashed over –

Mikael is standing in front of him, holding both hands up with his palms flat as he stumbles a few steps backwards to put more space in-between the two of them.

“Woah!” he tries to grin, but he’s too worried for it to come out properly. “Sorry. Probably shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”

Isak’s heart is pounding. He is standing in front of Mikael. Best bud Mikael. He is talking to Mikael.

Or, Mikael is talking to him, because Isak’s mouth has stopped working sometime between leaving the flat and being stopped in the hall by Mikael.

“I, uh –“ Mikael gestures to Isak vaguely, looking a bit uncomfortable, and all Isak can focus on is why, because, is it Isak? Is it that Even had a secret relationship? Is it that it was with a guy? “I thought it was you. I’ve kind of been looking for you. I – I recognized you from the back.”

Isak arches an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Mikael flushes and looks a cross between mildly horrified and scolded. “Shit, no, I didn’t –“ his hands flail wildly at the back of his own head. “The hair! Like, you from the back, it’s the only side of you I’ve ever seen. Not that I –“

He cuts himself off before he can make it any worse with whatever was about to be thrown out of his mouth.

“I meant,” Mikael closes his eyes and purses his lips as he tries to figure out what he’d wanted to say, “that, when I recently thought back over the years, I’ve seen you sometimes, but only from the back. Whenever we ran into Even in public, he’d always be staring in one direction for a little too long, and when I turned to look there was always some curly-haired blond kid walking away.”

Isak can feel the heat rising up in his cheeks. He remembers all those times, remembers the first time he’d run into Even accidentally in public and his friends had been with him. Thank god they live in such a heteronormative society that Mikael hadn’t even questioned why Even apparently was staring at a guy.

“I saw the picture – I mean,” Mikael winces, tries again, “I saw – there was – Even’s staying with you, right?” finally settling on something. “I’ve tried his phone, but he hasn’t picked up.”

“It’s probably run out of battery,” Isak’s face feels numb, it feels a bit like someone else is talking. Seeing Mikael up close, talking to him when a few years ago seeing Mikael would’ve meant run, hide, deflect is such an odd experience, it’s really throwing Isak for a loop. “Or maybe he’s turned it off.”

Definitely the former, if Even hasn’t changed since Isak knew him. He’s always been particularly destructive with his phone-usage during an episode, even the minor ones Isak had been there to experience, so Isak’s at least glad to know Even hasn’t managed to do something he’ll regret when he doesn’t feel as horrible as he does right now.

Mikael nods, scuffs his shoes a bit. Isak can see the tension in his shoulders. What a weird experience this must be for him as well – talking to his best friend’s secret former beau, when he’d only been told about it at the same time as the rest of the world.

“I just, I wanted to check, see how he’s doing.”

“He was sleeping when I left,” Isak tells him, tries not to feel weird about actually talking to someone about Even when he’s like this for the first time ever. He hadn’t been able to before, because asking someone for help would mean having to tell them about Even, or Even having to tell them about Isak, but seeing as that had never happened, Isak had relied on intuition and Google. “He’ll probably have some lunch by the time I get back. It’s still early on, so he’ll sleep for a while.”

Mikael scuffs his shoes again. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I just – I got spooked,” he shrugs, doesn’t meet Isak’s eyes, “what, with what happened last time it was a big one.”

Isak frowns, his heartbeat picking up a notch. He thinks this time is plenty bad enough, he can’t really imagine something worse – at least sit would’ve made the news, and if Isak hadn’t discovered it in his weakest moments Magnus would’ve talked their ears off about it.

Whatever face he’s pulling, Mikael looks like he’s said too much.

“Anyway, I –“

“What – what hap-“ Isak fumbles with the words, his throat tight. Mikael flinches.

“Have you talked to Sonja?” he asks instead. “She’ll want to know where he is –“

“I – yes, I’ve talked to her.”

Sonja. A thousand needles prickles inside of Isak’s body at the mention of her name. It’s not like he was the one who’d been married to Even or anything. Isak doesn’t mention she barely spared a second to ask how Even was doing before she was moving on with business, doesn’t know what it means concerning Sonja and Even.

Mikael takes a step back, but Isak reacts quicker than his brain can follow and grabs a hold of his jacket.

“What – Mikael, what happened?”

Mikael winces, doesn’t look Isak in the eye. Isak doesn’t let go of his jacket.

“It –“ Mikael shrugs helplessly, accidentally getting out of Isak’s grip. Isak’s hand falls uselessly against his side. “He just – he got too low, if you…” he trails off, shakes his head. “Anyway, I know things must’ve gotten really messed up, back then,” Mikael frowns, “but I’m glad he’s got you to take care of him. That’s all.”

Isak can’t swallow, his throat has closed up. “Okay.”

Mikael attempts a smile, but it doesn’t quite fit right. “Tell him to call when he’s feeling better, alright?”

“Okay,” Isak repeats, stumbling over his own feet when he tries to take a step backwards. He’s supposed to head the other way, past Mikael, but Isak can’t get his feet to work, can’t do anything but round the corner, holding up a hand towards Mikael in an awkward wave.

He can’t breathe properly. He hears Mikael walk away, and he still can’t breathe properly.

He has his tutorial next, but he can’t go there, not right now, he can’t. He switches route and heads for the labs instead.

It’s all too much. It’s all too much, all of it, and Isak feels like he’s suffocating under the stares and the whispers. He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe.

He rushes down the hall until he gets to the more secluded student laboratories. They’re old and haven’t been updated for ages, and no one really uses them in favor of the cooler, bigger ones closer to the lecture hall, even as they’re designed for multiple people to use at the same time.

He runs his student ID through the slot, his hands nearly shaking too badly that he misses several times, types in the code and pushes the door open when it buzzes.

Isak stumbles over the entrance and bangs his shoulder into one of the high tables. It hurts and he tries to clutch his hand around it to alleviate the pain as he crumbles onto the floor.

It’s like with the added physical pain it all just falls down around him. All the walls he’s spent his entire life building up fall, his will to get up and finish the day disappears and his resolve to not cry is gone and the tears are streaming out of his eyes.

An ugly sob is torn out of his throat. Isak has to let go of his shoulder so he can stuff the cuff of his hoodie into his mouth to muffle any other noises that might escape.

A lot of noises end up escaping anyway.

He wants to call Magnus, wants to know for sure that Even’s still there, that he’s lying in his bed, that he’s sleeping, that he’s had something to eat, that he’s –

Isak’s hands are shaking. It makes it more difficult to muffle the noises with each slip of his hand. He thumps his head back against the cupboard behind him to mask it, but it just makes him sore.

It’s not – it’s not like this is only about what Mikael had implied, a breakdown like this is never about just one thing. Even having apparently – that he – that – that is only the last drop falling on top of an already completely full glass, causing everything to spill over.

Isak’s exhausted. He’s so, so tired, his body feels heavy with it. His head is pounding, his nose is stuffed, and he can’t stop crying.

He can’t stop crying and he can’t breathe – not like the panic attack, not can’t breathe as in he’s about to die any second now, but can’t breathe as in everything inside of him is clogged up and everything hurts and he keeps crying, keeps sobbing.

His breath comes out in small hitches, little gasps trying to suck in more air than he’s letting out. It makes the sobbing sound awful, completely ratchet, and for some reason the thought pops into Isak’s head that he has his tutorial he needs to get to, but everyone will know he’s been crying, will talk about why he’s crying because everyone wants to talk about Even Bech Næsheim like he isn’t an actual person.

Like the world can tell Isak’s thinking about it, wishing to never be a part of it again, the electronic lock buzzes, the door opening. Isak bites down on his lip hard to keep quiet, despite knowing it won’t work.

His vision is blurry, too blurry to see who it is. All he sees is some misshapen, black blob – a blob Isak knows, he realizes.

Sana doesn’t say anything when she shuts the door behind her. Her steps echo slightly in the otherwise empty room, small taps of the soles of her shoes against the linoleum floor. Tap, tap, tap until she reaches him.

She lowers herself down next to him, first just crouching down with her back against the cupboard next to Isak’s, then she plops down fully on the ground.

She still doesn’t say anything. Isak can’t fight the sob that breaks out. Sana just stays there, right next to him, her bag left by the door in a sad attempt of a blockade.

It’s not until Isak feels like he’s momentarily run out of tears, cheeks sticky and neck clammy, sweatshirt ruined with dark blotches all over that Sana says something. His lungs still aren’t great, but he doesn’t feel like he’s about to suffocate – it’s not like breathing has been easy for so long by now, anyway, Isak reasons with himself.

“Noora’s told me that ‘people need people’, but… I don’t know what to do with crying people,” Sana confesses. She’s staring into the air, doesn’t dare look over at Isak.

It startles a laugh out of Isak, and not a pretty one at that. There’s snot and tears all over and he’s pretty sure he looks hideous, but it feels like his lungs work a little better than before.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do anything with them.”

Sana rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” because he does, but that doesn’t mean he knows what to do with crying people either.

They’re quiet for a couple of minutes. The silence doesn’t feel as suffocating as it had before – maybe because Isak’s sharing the silence now. Everything’s supposed to be easier when you share. Share the load, share the burden.

“Maybe,” he has to stop and wet his lower lip before he can continue. “Maybe just don’t tell anyone. About this. You don’t have to do anything more for me.”

Sana doesn’t turn to look at Isak and Isak doesn’t turn to look at Sana. He does give in to the urge to see what she looks like, but only out of the corner of his eye.

She’s smiling, but it doesn’t look real. It looks sad and absolutely fake and a bit pained at that, and Isak almost wants to ask if there’s something wrong, except he can kind of gather what it is that made her look like that.

Maybe she thinks enough people are talking about Isak as is. She doesn’t have to add any more fuel to the fire.

Isak wipes his face on his sleeve. He’ll have to just wear a t-shirt and his jacket for the rest of the day if he wants to get away with keeping this mini-breakdown a secret. His hoodie is wet from tears and saliva from when he’d stuffed it in his mouth to keep quiet, and there really isn’t a doubt what he’s just been doing, even if people somehow don’t notice the red puffiness of his eyes.

Sana doesn’t comment on it even though it must be disgusting. Isak would be disgusted by it, but it’s his own body’s fluids, and it’s a bit of a special circumstance so he’s willing to forgive himself.

Sana helps him get his things in order. Isak pulls off his hoodie and stuffs it in the bottom of his backpack, and then Sana rearranges everything to lie on top so it’s covered.

“You’re a good friend, you know that?” he tells her when they’re nearly ready to leave. He just has to pull on his jacket and they’re good to go.

She snorts, rolls her eyes and huffs at him, but her cheeks are a bit flushed and she refuses to meet his eyes. “Piss off, would you?”

Isak grins widely. His cheeks still feel sticky and the stretch makes it scratch at his skin. “My best bud,” he teases in English.

“We are not best buds,” she tells him as she opens the door, not waiting to make sure Isak has a hold of it before she’s stepped through, ready to let it slam shut. Isak nearly drops his bag in his hurry to catch the door so he doesn’t get smacked in the face by an inanimate object.

“We are a little bit best buds.”

Isak’s taller than her so it’s easy to catch up, even as she’s practically power walking down the hall. She slows down when he’s next to her. She glares up at him, but Isak just grins wider, because it’s obvious she’s fighting a smile.

“Little bit best buds,” she concedes and leads him up the stairs so she can sit in with him in a module she doesn’t have.

That in itself qualifies as more than just ‘a little bit’ best buds. They both know it does.

OOOOO

The apartment is quiet when Isak finally gets home. He’s freezing, the wind too cold just for a t-shirt and his jacket as he hadn’t dared pulling out his hoodie once Sana led him away from campus and waited for the tram with him.

Magnus hasn’t been gone for more than six minutes, Isak knows, because he texted him when he left to hear if Isak was nearly back. Woke up, like, an hour ago. Had something to eat, but didn’t say a lot. Went back to sleep afterwards. Don’t worry too much, ‘s all good! Quote Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

Isak resisted the urge to text back that Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson had in no way ever said that, but he knew he was only going to get another fake quote back, so he’d just texted back his thanks and braced himself for the circus by the entrance of his building.

Even’s still in bed when Isak checks in on him. At least he’s moved, reassuring Isak that Magnus hadn’t been lying. His back is to the door, so Isak can’t see if he’s awake or not, and it suddenly feels too awkward and invasive to walk all the way around his bed just to see if Even’s eyes are open or not.

“Hei,” he whispers instead, peeking past the door frame. He doesn’t dare breathe, doesn’t dare move, just in case Even actually has fallen asleep again and Isak will end up waking him accidentally.

The sheets start shuffling before Isak can see Even actually moving. His heart is stuck in his throat for a moment, then Even’s turning onto his back.

He’s staring at the ceiling, not moving to look at Isak, but that’s okay. Isak can see that his eyes are open and that he’s awake.

Even blinks slowly, the drag of his eyelashes clearly feeling like a struggle, and now Isak’s heart is stuck in his throat for another reason. Mikael’s insinuation still a little too close to not meticulously pay attention to each small detail.

“Did you sleep okay?”

Even doesn’t reply. He can’t muster up the strength to say anything, and Isak feels like sobbing despite being sure he’s cried himself out of tears already, but he pulls himself back together.

Instead, he just starts talking, up and down about everything; he knows Even’s listening. He moves from the doorway to the foot of the bed, Even’s eyes following his movement, but stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes.

Isak’s still talking, slowly and quietly so Even can go back to sleep if he wants to. It’s nothing particularly interesting, the topics falling out of his mouth so seamlessly Isak almost wonders if he and Even had ever stopped talking, that the past few years haven’t just been a fever-nightmare.

He considers mentioning Mikael, but he isn’t sure Even wants to know about anyone outside of their little bubble right now, and he also isn’t sure if Even’s okay with Isak having talked to Mikael, so he lets it lie for now.

It’s nothing personal he talks about, either, because as much as he wishes the past couple of years had just been a nightmare, as dissociating is it to see Even in his bed, in his apartment that he shares with his best friends that Even wasn’t around long enough to ever hear about, in Isak’s life that hasn’t had Even in it for two years. Talking about something close to heart, the way they’d somehow always been able to back then, it’s – it doesn’t fit in with the Isak of the now. He’s not the same, and he doubts Even is either.

Even’s been asleep for a little over an hour when Isak gets up off the bed and slips out the door quietly. He crashes on the couch, no more energy left in his body after the day he’s had.

He wakes up the next morning when Even does – way too early, unable to sleep any longer – wandering out of Isak’s room with a slow gait, gaze slightly vacant. His hair is greasy, and the bags underneath his eyes are still too deep, too purple, looking too much like two sets of bruises.

It’s nearing four am. They’re sitting on Isak’s bedroom floor with a bowl of cereal each, facing the window with the side of the bed against their backs. They don’t watch the sun rise because the curtains are still drawn. Neither of them make a move to open them up, neither of them dare to.

Isak can feel the heat of Even against his right arm. It would probably feel so much like old times if they weren’t disturbingly quiet.

Well, Even was always quiet during the lows, even when they hadn’t been as extreme as this one seems to be, but any other morning where they’d do this – most mornings in general – he wouldn’t be able to stop talking about anything and everything.

Isak stirs the cocoa puffs around, watches as the milky brown turns darker and darker with each press of the spoon. It’s easier to look at the food than it is to look at Even. He doesn’t have to wonder when that happened, he already knows.

The spoon clatters against the ceramic rim of the bowl when Isak accidentally lets go. Even looks at him for a beat too long, Isak can feel it even as he doesn’t look up to check, but he doesn’t say anything. Before long he’s gone back to eating his own cereal.

Isak doesn’t go out the following days.

He stays off of the internet as much as possible, doesn’t want to know what people are saying about Even, about him, about him and Even, about anything at all, in fact. Sana keeps sending him her notes unprompted, and Isak constantly wonders why the hell she would ever decide to bless him with her friendship when he doubts he’s earned it.

Same goes for the boys.

None of them complain about the media circus they have to walk through, about having to field questions they’re asked about their gay roommate and his secret marriage, about having Even around. Instead they’re constantly around; working in shifts that Isak hasn’t figured out the system of yet, figures they probably have a secret group chat where they work it out impromptu, asking if Isak needs help, ready to step in and make sure Even’s alright.

It’s at times like that that Isak feels particularly overwhelmed with the feeling of how not alone he is.

He’s been alone for so long he doesn’t remember what to do to reach out to other people, to ask for help, and he can’t even remember what he did to make Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus think, you know, he’s alright that one, because he’d been drunk or pissed their entire first semester, and stressed and pissed for the second term, but somehow they did, and they still do, and they don’t bother waiting for Isak to ask – probably because they know the wait would be futile, Isak would never think to ask – they just offer and do it.

Sometimes during the quietest moments of the nights, when Isak has the most trouble falling asleep, he feels a bit like crying at the thought of his three friends.

Days pass like this – with Isak switching between hovering over Even and trying to salvage whatever is left of his degree, sleeping on the couch, resulting in an increasing amount of back pain each night.

He does his assignments to force himself into thinking about something else. Half the time it doesn’t work, but he isn’t falling horribly behind anymore. Then he spends a lot of time not looking any of the boys in the eye.

That makes him feel like shit as well, because they’ve been nothing but nice and really great friends during this entire ordeal, but Isak –

Isak doesn’t know what he’ll see when he looks. He’s not sure he wants to know – or, he does, but he won’t be able to handle it if it’s bad. Not on top of everything else.

He checks in on Even again, sees he’s still sleeping, but it’s been less and less over the past couple of days, so Isak suspects he’ll wake up soon.

It feels odd standing around in his own room when Even’s there, almost creepy in a sense, but that’s probably because Even is asleep. It leaves Isak feeling a bit beside himself, because first of all he’s never felt like this when he’d been with Even before, not when they’d shared everything and been so desperate to have a space for themselves, but that was years ago and second of all because this is Isak’s room. It’s where he’s hidden himself away from the world when everything was just too much, when he’d been sure he was one step away from fucking up and everyone knowing.

Isak’s careful about shutting the door behind him, it clicking in place seemingly louder than normal because of his intention to be quiet.

He’d heard the boys get in a while ago. He can smell the lingering scent of food, doesn’t know if he hopes for leftovers or not, probably not with how simultaneously jittery and exhausted he feels.

They’re still in the kitchen; Isak can hear them as he tiptoes closer. Not that they’re loud, they’re clearly consciously trying to keep quiet so as to not wake Even up.

Mahdi’s sitting on the window sill, back against his own sheets that they still haven’t taken down. They color the room an odd, muted golden because of the sunlight trying to break through unsuccessfully. Magnus is finishing up the last of the dishes, snapping the dishtowel at Jonas when he tries to grab a clean glass to get some water.

“Yo,” Mahdi startles him, nodding in a greeting like he usually would, but there’s a look to him that makes it obvious there’s nothing normal about this.

Jonas gives up stealing a glass from Magnus’ clutches in favor of focusing on Isak.

“Hey,” Jonas’ voice is gentle, but there’s a worry in his eyes that makes Isak squirm. Jonas frowns. “Have you slept?”

“When?” Isak evades, but not well enough.

Jonas snorts. “At all.”

Isak looks down at the floor to avoid any of their gazes. He hates this – probably why he’s practically been avoiding the boys the past couple of days unless he desperately needs help. He doesn’t know what possessed him to not continue like that right now.

And then he remembers Even sleeping in his room and how not right it had felt to be there, how wrong it feels to be in any room of the house when he never expected to ever be in the same place as Even again. That’s why.

Doesn’t make it any easier to just stand here like this with them watching him. Isak’s sick of feeling like his skin is crawling from all the sets of eyes that are on him. When he strides forward to grab the same glass Jonas had been trying to get, Magnus doesn’t try to swat at him with the dishtowel.

“Even’s asleep, right?” Jonas asks.

Isak turns the tap on, lets the water run colder and colder. It numbs the tips of his fingers when he tests the temperature. “Yeah.”

“You were up pretty early, weren’t you?” Magnus asks, putting away the last of the plates. “I thought I heard you moving around.”

Isak nods, doesn’t really know what to say. He’s so tired, and he’s tired of feeling like – like this, like he’s constantly trying to stand on his feet, but he doesn’t have any balance to stay up. It’s disorientating and confusing and absolutely exhausting, and Isak’s tired of feeling like he’s an extra piece that just doesn’t fit in with the rest of the puzzle.

The water shuts off. Isak registers the lack of sound before he feels it on his fingers. Jonas’ hand is still on the tap. Isak’s hand is still wavering mid-air, his other holding the empty glass like an idiot.

It’s quiet in the kitchen. Isak feels it like a weight upon his shoulders, holding him down.

Mahdi’s the one who breaks it.

“You look like you’re going to fall over,” he says, not needing to specify who he’s speaking to. He nods towards the space next to him. “Just, come on.”

Isak doesn’t move. He still just stands there by the sink, holding an empty glass until Jonas gently grabs onto his elbow and makes him put it down.

“Is,” he mutters, “you can’t keep going like this.”

And the worst part is that it’s the truth, Isak can’t keep going like this. Not only because he’s hiding away in his apartment which is an option that won’t keep being viable, but because Isak isn’t okay, hasn’t been okay for so, so long and he doesn’t know how to get himself to a place where he can get better.

So he lets Jonas maneuver him over to the window, sits down next to Mahdi, Jonas pressed against his left side and Magnus takes a seat on Mahdi’s right side.

People need people, he thinks of Sana telling him. He can feel the sun warming up his back through the window.

He doesn’t know where to start – he’s never done this before, never said the words. Where is he supposed to start? Meeting Even? When Even left? An apology?

“You’re, like, properly fucked up over him, aren’t you?” Jonas states quietly, lightly puffing at him with his shoulder.

Isak snorts. He would’ve figured that was a given by now, but apparently Jonas still felt the need to ask him directly.

“What happened?” Jonas whispers, voice soft but desperate.

Isak thinks he should feel sad. He does, sort of, but almost in a detached kind of way. He doesn’t even register that his bum is starting to go numb from sitting in the same position on a hard surface for so long, barely notices the warmth of Jonas and Mahdi on either side of him. He’s so tired, so, so tired and he can barely pull himself together enough to open up his mouth and answer.

“I met him when I was fifteen.”

He remembers Even back then; all floppy hair and bomber jacket and so, so beautiful, full of ideas and dreams – so different from the meek, quiet boy who had showed up outside their door.

“There’s never been anyone but him,” Isak admits. He feels like he should be crying, but his eyes feel almost too dry instead. He can’t blink, doesn’t know how to stop looking out into the hallway, really. “For so long, I couldn’t imagine spending my life without him, and then one day I had to imagine it with everyone but.”

The confession hurts, like someone is forcing a knife into his heart because Isak fucking remembers those months, as hard as he’d tried not to by drowning himself in booze and whatever weed or pills he could come across.

“I still haven’t figured out how to do that,” he whispers, like if he doesn’t say it too loudly, it won’t be true, he could still pull off being suave, being so in control of his life that of course he knows how to live without Even, he’s figured it all out already.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Magnus asks. Isak thinks he sounds so incredibly sad, sad enough for the both of them because Isak feels the indifference coloring his voice like a self-defense mechanism so engrained he doesn’t know how to turn it off.

Isak shrugs. “Didn’t know how to.”

“Did we,” Jonas gulps, like he’s afraid of asking the question because he isn’t certain he wants to know the answer. “Did we make you think you… couldn’t tell us?”

To be honest, there had been many times; bad jokes and wrongly phrased comebacks that left a bigger impact than Isak was willing to admit, but he knows none of the boys are homophobic. Still, there’s always a difference in saying you’re not homophobic and then actually having a friend, a friend you live with, be gay and Isak just wasn’t ready or willing to take that chance.

“Didn’t tell anyone.”

A secret like that, so big and personal, had felt like a massive weight on Isak’s shoulders, constantly weighing him down. Sometimes, really late at night, he’d imagine what it would be like if everyone knew and no one left him because of it, how much lighter he would feel.

Well, they all know now, but Isak doesn’t feel any better about it. He feels worse.

“No one?” Jonas frowns. “Not even Eskild?”

Eskild would’ve been the obvious choice if Isak were to tell someone, probably would’ve been the first person he told if he’d been in a different universe. But in this universe Isak had kept his mouth shut until someone else opened it for him.

Isak shakes his head. “No. Just spent ages sneaking around behind everyone’s back and lying to their faces.”

Mahdi clears his throat. “So you meet him at fifteen – he was what, seventeen? And you fall in love –“ Isak’s insides tighten at how easily it’s said, as if keeping it a secret had never been as big of a deal as it had felt, “– and then what? Like, how did it get so bad? ‘Cause, like, you got the certificate, you would’ve had to have been together for three years for you to be eighteen, so what –“ he trails off, shaking his head.

The thing is, things hadn’t gone bad, not like they do in a normal situation. It hadn’t been like that, and to this day Isak still can’t wrap his head around it properly for how sudden it had come.

Even to the tee, he thinks, folding one leg up to he can rest his head on his knee, hiding away a bit. There one second, gone the next.

Isak doesn’t know how to tell them about that, though, so he gives the briefest overview he possibly could; talks about moving in together – doesn’t tell them about proposing or about getting married because he doesn’t think he can actually say the words out loud. He definitely doesn’t talk about the cabin, because that memory is too good, reminds him too much of a time he’d never been happier, and it’s just too sore of a moment to think about, let alone share out loud. He tells them about Even’s job instead, about how he’d worked longer and longer hours, about him getting into film school and meeting more of the right people, about the one in a million lifetimes opportunity.

Talking about Even isn’t cathartic, not in the way Isak had always hoped it would feel. Instead it leaves him feeling hollow inside and like a vice is squeezing tighter and tighter around his heart, because talking about Even like this just serves to remind Isak that Even had been the center of his world, and Isak just hadn’t realized it wasn’t mutual.

He got the message loud and clear, though, when Even fucked off to the other side of the world and never came back. When he left Isak behind to go over it over and over again, about how stupid he’d ever been for thinking he could’ve been the center of Even’s world as well.

Isak forcefully blinks to clear his eyes of tears. He isn’t going to cry, he won’t.

So he forces his thoughts away from that topic, tells them about starting at university only because he’d applied before everything went horribly, horribly bad, and how he’d been desperate to get out of their shared apartment so he’d jumped at the chance of student housing. About how it had been his opportunity to get away from everything Even, even if it just meant that he got drunk in a different setting.

“You must’ve hated me,” Magnus mutters. He’s trying to make it sound like it’s funny, like a ‘ha, ha, I was constantly bringing up the person who hurt you, what a laugh’, but he sounds too guilty about it.

“At first,” Isak admits. He can sense Magnus is coiled, tensed up. “But I liked everything else about you, so I figured I could let Jonas and Mahdi deal with the fangirling.”

Magnus breathes out from his nose a bit harsher than usual, but other than that doesn’t outwardly react.

“Besides,” Isak adds when he can’t handle the silence anymore, “technically, we had something in common from the get-go, which is more than I can say for Mr. capitalism-is-the-root-of-all-evil over there.”

“Hey,” Jonas protests, but it’s halfhearted at best.

Isak’s distraction had been as well, though. He draws in a shaky breath, too loud for how still all of them are.

“I still haven’t said it, you know?” Isak stares blankly ahead of him even as he can feel Jonas’, Mahdi’s and Magnus’ eyes on him. “Out loud. I never said it.”

“Jesus,” Jonas whispers. “Jesus.”

“Do you want to?” Mahdi asks, hesitantly, like he isn’t sure it’s the proper time to ask.

Isak snorts. “Doesn’t really matter now, does it? Everyone already knows.”

Mahdi rolls his eyes. “Not like that. You, actually saying the words out loud. Doesn’t matter who hears them or that we all know already. Maybe it’ll be good for you.”

Isak can’t imagine anything being good for him – nothing has been good for so long that he doesn’t really know how to get to the opposite end.

“I should,” he concedes. The glass is slowly warming up against his back, but it’s from their combined body warmth and not from the sun outside. “I should say it. When all of this,” meaning Even being down and getting the press off of their, his, backs, of getting back to his daily rhythm going to uni and coming home to his boys, “is over, I need to be able to say it.”

Isak gulps. He can’t believe he’s actually about to say the words. It’s been so, so long, and he still doesn’t feel like he’s at a point where he wants the words to be out there, no matter how much they already are.

“Maybe it’ll be good,” Jonas suggest. “Getting to, like, ‘come out’ yourself.”

Isak can’t help but flinch. “I’m not – I mean, I –“ it’s so engrained in him to deny, deny, deny, that he almost doesn’t stop to think that that isn’t even the part he’s denying. “I wasn’t talking about saying I’m, about – about the guys part, I was talking about –“ Isak gulps and curls his hands into fists to get them to stop shaking, “I was talking about how I have to be able to say ‘I’m married’ to be able to say ‘I’m divorced’.”

“Fuck,” Magnus swears. Isak feels it in his bones.

“Is that what you are?” Jonas asks.

Isak shrugs. “No fucking clue.” It probably is. He’d never been contacted by a lawyer after signing the papers, but he doesn’t know anything about the entire process of being divorced – does it involve the court and lawyers, or is that just American movies being dramatic?

It makes him feel unsettled – more so than he already is, which is impressive by itself. The boys certainly get the message to stay off of that topic for a little while yet, at least, despite how much Isak can tell they’re itching to know, to help.

“I just –“ something gets stuck in his throat. There are lights dancing in front of his eyes from how teary they are. “I just really thought –“ he squeezes his eyes shut, swallows, and shakes his head and lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey,” Jonas protests immediately, grabbing a hold of Isak’s arm. “Come on, don’t say that, that’s not fair.”

Isn’t it? Isak wants to ask but doesn’t. He’s pretty certain that it is a fair question to ask, because he’s never felt so stupid in his entire goddamn life as he does when he thinks about Even and lawyers and so many papers and signatures.

“I love him,” he whispers, digs his nails into his knee. “He broke my heart, and I’m in fucking love with him. And I know he loved me back, that it wasn’t fake, but I just – I don’t know when he stopped, what I did to make him stop loving me.”

“Isak…” Jonas sounds horribly sad, and Isak’s so tired of making his friends sad. He’s tired of being sad, because he is. He’s not fine. He hasn’t been fine for so long – for a while he’d thought he’d figured it out, that moving into this flatshare with his boys had been the answer, had been the push he needed to finally be a better version of himself, but he hadn’t even had the chance to test it out before everything went a hundred times worse than they’d been at the beginning.

“Fy faen, this is so fucking depressing,” Magnus sniffles, wiping at his eyes before he slaps both of his knees and jumps up. “Alright, that’s it, come on, group hug, we’re doing it.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

But no amount of protesting stops Magnus from grabbing on to Jonas and Mahdi, and then Isak gets pulled along unwillingly as well.

“I’m way too tall for this,” Isak complains immediately, trying to bow out, but the boys won’t let him, Magnus already folding them all around Isak to keep him in place.

“Bend down, then, bitch,” Mahdi orders, which is how Isak ends up with a mouthful of Jonas’ curls and his forehead pressed against Mahdi’s ear.

“The girls do it all the time!” Magnus attempts to convince them even as they’re already in the middle of it. “Vilde told me so.”

“Oh? How long have you been speaking to Vilde?” Jonas shoves his hip against Magnus’, nearly unsettling all of them in the process.

Magnus flushes a bright red. “I – there was the party, you know, and, I just –“ then makes a lot of indistinguishable noises much to Jonas’ amusement.

“Christ, please tell me it wasn’t your dried up come I found in my bed the day after,” Mahdi begs over Magnus’ continued blundering.

“No, that was Eskild’s,” Isak tells him, smothering his laugh in Mahdi’s shoulder at the following swearing at Isak for not having warned him.

He presses his face harder against Mahdi, wills himself to take deep breaths and not fucking cry. Mahdi smells like he always does – of cologne and himself and a hint of weed despite not having smoked any today. A hand grabs the back of Isak’s head, tugging his hair gently. Isak can’t tell who it is, knows he’ll probably cry if he looks up, so he just keeps his head down.

He squeezes his boys harder. They squeeze back.

OOOOO

“Takk,” Even says when Isak comes back from bringing his plate out.

It’s late, the room dark apart from the bright white light of the lamp on Isak’s desk, casting weird shadows on the wall and making both their faces look more gaunt and tired than Isak hopes they look normally.

It’s probably too much to hope for, though, Isak knows, considering the past couple of weeks. Isak definitely knows the purplish bags underneath his eyes are probably permanent by now. Even looks a little better after having spent the first couple of days mainly asleep, but there’s wariness and a tired look to him that doesn’t come from the need to sleep.

Even’s hair flops down awkwardly, half sticking up and the other half falling down in his eyes. He’s got more color in his cheeks than he did yesterday, and apart from the afternoon nap he’s been up for pretty much the entire day – and then some, seeing as Isak’s fairly certain it’s nearing 2 am and they should’ve both gone to sleep hours ago, but eating hadn’t been the easiest today and the clock had run away from them by the time Isak had gotten Even to have a bite of toast and a cup of tea to settle down for the night.

“It’s nothing,” Isak tells him, means it too. He still thinks he should be angry, maybe – not at Even for having shown up like he had, just in general angry about everything that had gone so wrong, but he doesn’t feel angry. He’s honestly relieved that Even came here when he needed help, when he needed someone. Isak doesn’t really want to think about how awful it would’ve been had he just seen the award show and then had the complete radio silence the rest of the world has had to deal with.

He’s not in a hurry to spend another night on the couch, even if talking to the boys left him physically and mentally exhausted, and despite how much it sometimes hurts to look at Even, so deeply like someone is twisting around a knife that had been left inside of him, Isak doesn’t want to leave.

Even’s huddled up against the headboard, legs curled up on top of the duvet and in the softest hoodie Isak owns.

Isak turns around to fiddle with the stuff littered around on his desk so he doesn’t have to see how soft Even looks.

“Are you tired?” he asks instead without turning around. He stacks a couple of books on top of each other, then restacks them according to color, then restacks them again according to size, the smallest on top.

When Even still hasn’t said anything, he rearranges them after the due dates of his assignment. That just makes him slightly depressed, so he puts them together randomly and covers them with a wad of notebooks.

There’s nothing left for him to fiddle with, but he can’t turn around to look at Even, he can’t. He wants to, but he doesn’t know what it will do to him if he does.

“Yeah,” Even sounds resigned when he realizes Isak won’t face him. Isak can hear rustling, the bed creaking when Even’s weight leaves it, the sound of steps as Even walks towards the door. “I’ll go brush my teeth.”

Isak lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding once the bathroom door has shut.

He chances a look over at the bed, feeling like an intruder in his own bedroom and like someone is going to fault him for not leaving as well now that Even has, which is stupid because this is Isak’s room.

The sheets are rumpled, a dip in the mattress left behind from where Even had been sitting. When Isak sits down at the foot of the bed, the duvet is still warm.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, knows he’ll regret it, but his body moves without his permission, and the next thing Isak knows is he’s lying down on his bed, shoulder bent uncomfortably underneath his own weight, but his nose is pressed against the sheets and Isak doesn’t want to move.

He can smell Even on them, the same scent as he’s always had, and a feeling of what Isak can only describe as homesickness surges through him, leaving him so off kilter he nearly doesn’t hear when Even gets out of the bathroom.

He throws himself off of the bed just in time for Even to enter the room.

Even pauses at the door, looks Isak in the eyes. Isak’s breathing too heavily to appear as casual as he tries to, a too wild look in his eyes and a flush to his cheeks.

“I’ll just –“ Isak starts, clears his throat when barely any sound comes out. “I’ll let you go to bed.”

He shuffles around, heading towards the door before realizing he’ll have to walk past Even, brush up against him to get out, so he stalls by the desk so Even has a safe distance to crawl onto the bed and let Isak leave without any close proximity to each other.

This is stupid. Isak feels stupid. Even if it’s been literal years since he last kissed Even, since he slept with him, it’s not as if they’ve only been five feet apart since Even showed up on his doorstep. Isak’s brushed his fingers through his hair, has folded his fingers around Even’s wrist, has squeezed his shoulder encouragingly to prompt Even into eating, moving, whatever.

Even doesn’t move. Or, he does, but he takes a step towards Isak, not towards the bed. Isak stands as if he’s rooted in place, not daring to blink in case he misses something.

“You could,” Even hesitates, looking like he’s so carefully thinking about his next words. “You could stay, if you want.”

It’s a bad idea. It’s a very bad idea. It’s such a bad idea, because Isak and Even have simultaneously got unfinished history and very much definitely finished history.

It’s not as if anything is going to happen if Isak were to stay – they’re both exhausted. Isak can see it on Even and he can feel it in his own bones, but just the idea of being near Even, of sleeping next to him for the entire duration of the night, or what’s left of it, it – it’s so much. Too much and not enough all at once and such a bad idea, and none of it changes the fact that Isak wants.

He nods carefully, slowly, barely enough movement for Even to recognize the assent for what it is.

Even breathes out deeply when he does realize Isak is agreeing, that he’s staying, fuck. Fucking fuck.

Isak panics about it when he brushes his teeth – locking the door and spending a worryingly long amount of time staring into the mirror at his reflection. Then he panics some more about it as he walks back into his room.

Even’s sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to pretend he hadn’t kept his eyes on the door to be sure Isak was coming back. Something tugs inside of Isak.

As Isak pulls off his sweatshirt, Even shoves himself backwards towards the side of the bed he’d always slept on when they’d shared a bed before. Something keeps tugging inside of Isak, something he desperately tries to ignore as he panics about what to wear for bed.

He keeps his t-shirt on, just like Even, but doesn’t strip to his boxers like Even has, sticks with his joggers instead. He’ll be uncomfortably hot and probably wake up in the middle of the night because of it, but he can barely handle the thought that in a few seconds he’ll lie next to Even, will spend hours just lying next to Even and have to worry about their bare legs brushing during the night when they’re both under the covers.

He turns off the light, then trails back and shuts the door before he shuffles onto the bed himself, lifting the covers and settling stiffly onto his back.

The duvet is still warm from Even sitting on it earlier, but the pillows and sheets underneath him are cool and fresh. Isak can feel Even next to him, can hear his breathing in the darkness. He stares resolutely at the ceiling, not able to see anything before his eyes adjust to the lack of light.

“Thank you,” Even whispers. He’s lying on his back as well, just as stiffly as Isak is, careful not to touch despite how they’re sharing a bed and a duvet and space in each other’s lives.

Isak doesn’t know what he’s thanking him for, isn’t sure he wants to know either. Doesn’t know if it’s for agreeing to sleep here for tonight, or if it’s for everything in general, or if it’s so much deeper. He doesn’t know what he’d respond even if he did know.

You’re welcome isn’t personal enough for the two of them, but any time and always is too much considering. Maybe Isak should just keep it impersonal, maybe it’ll help him in the long run.

He nearly snorts. As if he’s ever thought about long-term consequences of his actions. If he had they wouldn’t be here right now.

“Selvfølgelig,” he tells him instead, hopes Even doesn’t read too much into just how big a matter of course it is, that there wouldn’t be an Isak in any of the universes, including this one even back when he’d been completely fucked up and so furious with Even, where Isak wouldn’t have let Even in.

He keeps hearing Even breathing – tunes into it really as it’s the only audible sound in the room apart from Isak’s heart pounding in his chest – hears how Even consciously tries to keep his breaths deep and even.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” Even finally whispers. “I’m sorry for being a burden.”

“Don’t say things like that.” There’s more venom in Isak’s voice than he’d usually put there, but he’d been sick and tired of Even saying those things back when they were together, and that hate hasn’t lessened with the time.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” Even’s exhausted, but there’s still bite in his tone. It makes red hot fury curl up in Isak’s stomach.

“No, it isn’t, actually.” It isn’t true at all, he wants to add, softer, but he can feel that all that will come out of his mouth will be snide remarks and harshly spoken words, so he keeps it shut.

It’s like saying Isak had been a burden back when Even’s career had been ‘make it or break it’ –

Isak freezes even as he didn’t say the words out loud. Because that’s what had happened. Isak had been the burden and Even had cut off the deadweight.

God, he’s tired and he’s hurting and he’s tired of always hurting.

He doesn’t have a way to fix this, fix any of it. Doesn’t know how to feel okay, doesn’t know how to rid Even of any backlash because of his episode, doesn’t have a wand he can wave around and make everything okay. Doesn’t even have any words of comfort, words of encouragement, he’s too worn out, stripped to the bones and left exposed to have any more left to give.

But neither of them will get any sleep tonight if they end it like this.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Even snorts irritated at him.

“No, really, I mean it,” Isak insists. “Give it a week and all people will be talking about is the ‘integrity’ of your ‘art’, you proper artiste,” Isak puts on a snooty voice that makes Even try to muffle a laugh into the duvet.

“Do a lot of running around naked at award shows, then?”

Isak tries desperately hard to keep the smile on his face, even though it’s too dark and Even won’t be able to tell one way or another. “Nah. I wouldn’t get away with it either – I’m no artist, people can sense that shit.”

“Are you seriously telling me that there has never been a scientist showing up for work buck-ass naked?”

Isak wracks his brain, because, yeah, when Even puts it like that, it sounds unlikely that it hasn’t happened.

“Some of us are just eccentric.”

Even barks out a laugh too loud for the hour, and Isak is giggling too much to shush him properly. It feels like they’re sixteen and eighteen again and they’re lying under the covers in Isak’s bed in the Kollektiv, and they have to be quiet so Eskild doesn’t come to investigate what Isak could possibly be laughing about at this hour.

“Eccentric!” Even laughs too loudly, but Isak doesn’t want to quiet him. “That’s certainly a word for it! ‘Oh, just ignore the naked man in the room, that’s just my eccentric husba-“ both of them freeze.

Suddenly they aren’t sixteen and eighteen and they aren’t in the Kollektiv. They are twenty and twenty-two and they’re in Isak’s apartment that he shares with his three friends, because he and Even aren’t even together anymore.

A car passes by on the street outside, loud music spilling out of it as whoever’s driving around whoops excitedly. Isak can’t tell if it adds to the tension or helps dissolve some of it.

“You know,” Even whispers once it’s quiet again, “the only way to have something for infinite time is by losing it.”

Burning hot white fear rushes through Isak. He thinks of Mikael’s words, of how bad it had apparently gotten ‘last time’, thinks of Even’s movies where the lovers never get what Isak would call a happy ending, the ‘epic love stories’ as Even had always argued.

“Don’t say things like that.”

He doesn’t dare to breathe, too focused to pay attention to each inhale and exhale of Even’s, just to be sure he’s still there, he’s still breathing, he’s okay.

In the end he has to breathe in. It sounds too shaky and too obvious in the otherwise silent room, so Isak hurries to turn onto his side, facing away from Even.

It doesn’t help, doesn’t make his heart feel any less like it’s too big for his chest and falling apart because of it, but it means he can smother his face into the pillow, that he can curl up into a ball, that he can hide away from Even as the two of them hide away from the world.

It’s quiet for ages. Isak doesn’t feel any closer to sleep than he had when he’d first gotten in bed. Despite how much his body begs for the rest, his brain won’t comply.

“I didn’t know it meant having to choose,” Even whispers, sounding like he can’t bear it if the words aren’t out there, but also like he doesn’t want to wake Isak up on the off-chance he’s already fallen asleep.

Isak’s breath hitches and he squeezes his eyes shut harshly to stop the tears from welling up in them. It doesn’t work.

What is he even meant to say to that? ‘Well, it did’ or ‘Now you know’? Especially because the only thing Isak wants to say is, ‘I didn’t either.’

“Let’s not do this now,” he settles for instead.

Even’s presence on the other side of the bed feels tense and stifling, and Isak almost wants to make an excuse just so he can go sleep on the couch instead – Even hadn’t asked for him to stay this night after all.

“If you’re saying that because, because of – because I’m being mental, you can cut it out.”

Anger wells up in Isak so quickly his blood rushes through his body with too much heat. “I’m saying it,” he grits out through his teeth, “because it’s late and we’re both tired and these past couple of weeks haven’t been easy for either of us. Let’s not do this now.”

“Okay,” Even sounds more resigned than mollified, but neither of them is going to be getting things the way they’d like for them to be, not with how everything is right now.

Not ever, Isak doubts, folding his arms underneath his pillow so he can hide away easier, because anything they could want at this point would only be achievable in a fantasy world, not in this universe.

 Past

It’s… odd, coming back to an empty apartment.

Isak’s never really lived alone, so to speak. His dad had been in and out of the house for longer than Isak can remember, but his mom had always been a stable presence wherever she’d choose to loiter – the only part Isak had experienced that had been stable in that godforsaken house.

He’d been isolated, definitely, but he hadn’t been completely on his own.

Moving in to the Kollektiv had meant living with both Eskild and Linn, and whilst Linn wasn’t exactly the most social roommate in the world, Eskild had done more than his fair share of inserting himself into Isak’s life.

And finally, living with Even. Isak had never felt alone the entire time he’d shared a physical home with Even, hadn’t felt alone when his home had been Even.

He still is, Isak forcefully reminds himself in the particularly tough moments, as if he’d ever forget it. Forgetting wouldn’t be the hard part; it’s living with his home thousands upon thousands of kilometers away from where Isak is that’s the hard part.

It feels like the apartment feels the loss of Even as much as Isak does. The air is stuffy from Isak not throwing a window open for the entire day. He can’t bear it if the wind were to blow away the last remnant of Even’s scent on the sheets, on his clothes, in the apartment.

Even doesn’t text him when he gets to the airport, but he does text when he lands on his layover somewhere on the eastern coast of America. It’s in the very early hours of the morning, but Isak hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

He spends an embarrassingly long amount of time tracing over the shape of the letters of the I love you Even had finished the text with.

Once Even gets a bit more settled, they spend several hours on facetime, any time either of them – Even – has a free moment to spare. It not even an exaggeration to say that Isak lives for those times, even if they’re short and Even’s just on his way out the door to get to set, Isak loves seeing Even happy and excited and full of life as he tells him all about what’s going on over in America as Isak teases him with, over-pronouncing the syllables to make Even laugh.

Even explains everything so well it almost feels like Isak is there with him, all the way in America and not stuck in Oslo, Norway with the same daily routine day in and day out. It almost makes him miss Even a little less, but then they hang up and the pain inside him is tenfold.

It makes it nearly unbearable to spend his time in the empty apartment. When the first month and a half has passed and nothing smells of Even anymore apart from the pieces of clothes Isak had shoved all the way in the back of the dresser to ensure he wouldn’t lose Even’s scent completely, Isak caves and spends the night rooming with Eskild, then spends the next night on the couch because Eskild brought a guy home with him.

Eskild doesn’t ask questions, as much as Isak can tell that he wants to and it physically pains him to hold back. He just lets Isak in and talks up and down about how Noora has apparently for the past couple of days been staying with this guy she’s been seeing – complete with a nose wrinkle, which tells Isak’s he’s about to be updated on just about every reason why Eskild doesn’t like this guy.

He forces himself not to make it a habit to stay with Linn and Eskild because it feels too much like giving up, like he’s weak. He misses Even terribly and he hates being alone in their apartment and he misses Even, but he’s also so fucking proud of Even that it sort of makes it worth it. He just wants to shout to the world, “that’s my husband!” except he doesn’t, because he still hasn’t quite figured out how to do that.

They celebrate Halloween together on Skype, Even answering the call completely dressed up as God much to Isak’s amusement, and then he spends nearly an hour chewing Isak out for having done nothing to prepare and guiding him through their closet until Isak’s found a golden wreath and a red blanket he slings across his shoulders, proclaiming himself as Julius Caesar.

Even claims it suits him because Isak is fit to rule and will go down in history. Isak claims it’s because were he to go to a party, he too would get stabbed 23 times, which doesn’t deserve as much eye-rolling as Even gives him.

Isak doesn’t mention that it already feels like he’s gotten stabbed 23 times with the way Even’s taking care of him halfway across the globe. It wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t make things better, any easier.

They time when they start the movies so they’re technically watching them together. Isak falls asleep around three am Norwegian time, which would only be in the evening for Even. He wakes up to the call having been ended, but Even’s written him a message telling him he’s cute when he sleeps and that he loves him. Isak takes a screenshot and saves it for when the nights are particularly long and lonely.

The next couple of months Isak spends halfway delirious from lack of sleep. They’ve gotten in the habit of talking when Even’s cooking up some dinner for himself, which with the increasingly later and later hours Even’s working means Isak’s up to about four am before Even’s finished eating, and then he has to get up three hours later to get to class.

His grades don’t slip, but that’s also just about the only part of Isak’s life that doesn’t feel like it’s falling apart. It’s the one thing he’s stubbornly clung on to, almost seeing the row of 6’s as a validation, a confirmation that Even isn’t the only one who’s doing well, who’s working hard to live out his dream. Isak’s going to get into university, get into the bio-science program, and he’s going to make Even be proud of him that he managed to do it.

But getting top-grades with basically no sleep is wearing him down. He falls asleep on Even all the time. One time when he’d been going on two days with practically no sleep and Even had run late, he’d missed the call entirely, absolutely kicking himself for it the next day as frustrated tears had prickled in the corner of his eyes as he typed out an apology to Even.

Even replies with a blue heart and doesn’t mention it the next time the talk. He also doesn’t mention the dark circles underneath Isak’s eyes three days later when Isak feels himself slipping again, but this time he’s prepared and has set up alarms every fifteen minutes so if he does fall asleep, he won’t stay asleep.

He just needs to survive until Christmas, Isak constantly reminds himself when everything feels particularly horrible. Christmas, and then Even’s coming home for a short break. He’ll see Even for Christmas. He’ll come home for Christmas.

Isak spends Christmas alone in their apartment.

Maybe it’s because of the season, but everything in it looks particularly grey and dreary.

Even had booked the plane tickets, everything had been ready, and then for some reason the tickets had been cancelled. And then Even had booked again, and they’d not gone through. And again, despite third time’s the charm. No tickets. The price increases every time Even tries again and again until Isak’s cursing out about holiday extortion and considers buying a ticket himself to go see Even.

He’s just about to make the purchase when Even texts him that his parents showed up, apparently having bought tickets of their own and wanting to come surprise him, having apparently arranged all of it with Even’s assistant.

Isak does not cry. He doesn’t.

He spends a very sad evening eating way too much food and drinking way too many beers and steers far away from every soppy Christmas movie shown on TV, only watching the gory ones that he actually hates, but his options are rather lacking right now.

They talk for an hour in the middle of the night for Even, early morning for Isak; Even apologetic and Isak trying not to take his hurt out on him. Even loves his parents and it’s no one’s fault but Isak and Even’s own that they can’t say screw it and have Isak meet Even’s parents. They don’t even entertain the idea, that’s how bad it is.

Once the holidays are over and the stores open again, Isak heads into town and buys a calendar - a calendar – and a red sharpie, and then he starts to count down the days until Even is done and home for good. One red X at the start of each day. He can do this.

Except then school begins again, and suddenly it seems as if his teachers have remembered that they’re in their third year, that they’re graduating in a couple of months, and so the workload increases exponentially until Isak could cry from the mix of exhaustion and fucking missing his husband.

He misses another call. Even cancels a call because he’s going out to dinner with a group of people. Isak misses another call and doesn’t wake up to a sweet message from Even, reminding him that he loves him.

He phones Even four times on Even’s birthday before he picks up, the background so noisy Isak can barely pick out anything Even says. The crew is throwing me a party, I’ll call you back later!

No I love you, which makes sense if Even is surrounded by the people he now spends every day with. But there’s also no call later. Come morning, Isak shakily crosses out another day on the calendar and wills himself not to cry.

It’s a good thing, he tries to remind himself. It gets harder and harder to do every single day, but at the bottom of Isak’s heart nothing has changed. He’s proud of Even, he wants this for Even, he just doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to be left behind.

He doesn’t go to see Eskild.

He probably should – he’s isolating himself and it’s not healthy. He’s hours away from spiraling, from falling too deeply down the black hole. Going to see Eskild would definitely help, but Eskild would know something is wrong – he’d take one look at Isak, if that, and the cards would be spilt on the table. Isak can’t take that chance, so he stays at home, spirals and tries to fucking breathe.

At the end of March, Isak applies to university. He forgets to tell Even about it.

Or, he doesn’t forget, it’s just –

They’ve gone from talking every single day to every once in a while, and Isak’s working hard not to be resentful, to keep being so proud of Even at the front of his heart and his mind over everything else. So the next time they talk, Isak vows to tell Even all about how he finally settled on bio-science, all about the first term courses that he’s looking forward to, everything.

When Even picks up, there are worry lines etched into his face and a frown on his lips that seems foreign to Isak but perfectly fitting with the image of the worried man that Isak is faced with.

Shooting finished two days ago, Even should not be looking this stressed, Isak notes.

He keeps his eyes on the screen, doesn’t let them stray to the calendar and the five days left to cross out.

Or, twenty-five days left, as Isak finds out, because a problem has come up. Something about the editing and the framing that the studio isn’t happy with, which – who cares what they think? It’s Even’s movie, and Isak knows how meticulous Even is about every single detail which is what makes his movies so goddamn perfect.

Turns out a lot more people care about what the studio thinks than they care about what Even thinks.

Twenty-five days. Isak wants to tear the stupid calendar apart with his bare hands. Wants to shout. Wants to cry.

He does not cry. He doesn’t.

Fifteen days pass. The fifteenth of April passes without Isak noticing it until it’s the seventeenth and he realizes he still hasn’t told Even about his application.

It’s whatever, he figures. It’s not like he’s scared he won’t get in – he’s got the grades and he’s got the right course combination and he’s got the brains. He doesn’t need to put any more on Even’s plate than there already is. He’ll just tell him in eight days when Even comes home.

Eight days. Then fourteen days. Then another fourteen days. The problems going from the editing to framing choices to choices in general. More and more problems with each day that passes. Another week added on top of those extra fourteen days.

Promo starts despite there not being an actual movie that the stupid studio wants to show. It’s not a lot – not exactly the big conferences and rows upon rows of interviews – most of it is on various social media platforms, but it’s gaining a following, slowly but surely.

More weeks. Promo finishes.

Isak is russ by now, but he doesn’t get to show off the red pants with his name on them to Even, doesn’t go out partying because he isn’t on a bus, doesn’t really have any friends. He crashes house parties every once in a while, but they’re not particularly fun.

Still beats spending every night alone in his and Even’s empty apartment. It’s still better than going days upon days not speaking to Even.

There’s a due date, a premier date. Isak steadily makes little red x’s and thinks after that day Even will come home.

The premier date is pushed back.

Even is panicking, and Isak understands why, but he doesn’t understand the actual technicalities of the problem, and Even is, as said, panicking too much to explain it to him properly.

Isak had always thought that movies just got made and then shown in the cinema, but apparently that isn’t the case, or at least it isn’t with non-full length feature films, which is what Even has made.

He doesn’t understand the severity of the problem until he hears five rapid knocks on his front door.

The thing is, Even’s movie was supposed to be in theaters nearly a month ago by now, but it isn’t. There’s absolutely nothing, and Even doesn’t know what’s going on so Isak doesn’t know what’s going on.

And that’s when he gets the knock on his door.

They come in a series of raps. Later, Isak thinks they should’ve been heavier, more of a pounding – that would’ve fitted better.

Isak’s wearing an old hoodie of Even’s – the one he’d painted the drawstrings of a few years back by now. He’s worn it so much he can’t scent Even on it anymore, the colors starting to fade from repeated washes and general wear and tear.

He considers taking it off, shoving it under the bed, but then he forces himself not to. There’s no reason to think that anyone showing up on his doorstep would suspect him of wearing another guy’s, of wearing Even’s hoodie.

He quells down the anxiety, takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

Three well-dressed men in suits and ties and identically slicked-back hair are standing on Isak’s doorstep. They’re each holding their own briefcase. All three look very much like they do not want to be here right now, like they clearly have way more important things to do than apparently seek out Isak.

Isak blinks.

“Isak Valtersen?” the guy in the front asks in English. He says it wrong, though – pronounces it Isaac Walltersen, and then he just stands still until Isak replies to him.

“Yes?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as a question. He also didn’t mean to sound as hoarse and quiet as he does.

The man grins brightly at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and he doesn’t reach out his hand to shake Isak’s.

“My name’s Harley Walliams, these are my associates, David O’Leary and Pete Simonson. Do you know who we are?”

Isak knows who they are. Harley Walliams was the one who’d overlooked every single signature Even had had to give the studio’s management team. They’re lawyers. Even had raved about them when he’d found out the studio had assigned them to him, had told Isak all about how the clients they took care of were always the one to get the furthest in their careers.

Isak feels very cold all of a sudden, not entirely sure why.

“Yeah,” he repeats, voice still hoarse and small and really not like Isak at all. “I – what –“

“Do you mind if we come in?” Harley interrupts, the hand not holding the briefcase on the door before Isak’s had the time to even register the words. He’s not sure if it looks like Harley Walliams expects to be let in and figuratively put a foot inside the door, or if he expects to be asked to leave and is ensuring Isak can’t shut the door on him.

Isak lets go of the iron grip he has on the door handle, takes a couple steps backwards. His back hits the wall before long. He flushes a bit at the thought of having three hot-shot lawyers inside his very, very tiny shoebox of a home he shared with Even.

It’s his home and it’s his home with Even – he isn’t ashamed of it, he fucking loves it, even if it’s grown to be a hellhole constantly reminding Isak that Even isn’t here rather than the oasis they’d built for themselves. But he’s not embarrassed. He isn’t.

“Charming,” David comments once they’re inside the only actual room in the apartment. Isak’s cheeks burn hotter despite David’s perfectly passive expression and tone, Isak can tell he’s the furthest thing from sincere.

Isak lets his eyes skim over the room to check the state of it – he hadn’t expected any company, not ever, but it’s not too bad. No dirty underwear and no dirty dishes lying around. Just general disarray.

“Oh,” his eyes land on the improvised dining table and the two chairs from the flea market. The only chairs that he and Even own. “The chairs, I can – I –“

God, he can’t run down to the basement and get some fold-out chairs, can he? He doesn’t really want to leave them alone in his home, but he can’t exactly expect them to stand.

“Don’t worry about it!” Harley laughs, clapping Isak on the shoulder, making it feel as if Isak’s knees are about to buckle. “One for you and one for me, we don’t need anything else.”

“Oh.” Isak stumbles when Harley tries to get him closer to the table. The bed’s fairly close, there being so limited an amount of space, maybe he could…

Harley grabs a hold of the chair, pulling it out and maneuvers Isak to sit down, then takes his own seat opposite of Isak.

“There we go!” He grins again, doesn’t meet Isak’s eyes, too busy fiddling with the briefcase and then fiddling with a wad of papers that he turns so they’re wrong side up. “We’re all set up, then.”

Isak blinks. Set up for… what, exactly?

“Mr. Valtersen,” Walltersen, Harley begins, still smiling brightly, “ – may I call you Isak?” Isaac.

Isak doesn’t correct him. “Sure.”

“Isak,” Harley blinks at Isak like they’re in an amicable agreement with each other. “First of all, I’d like to apologize for intruding – this must seem very sudden for you, but we’re afraid it’s necessary.”

Isak’s heartbeat picks up. It’s necessary, what does that mean?

“What is this about?”

Harley doesn’t meet his eyes, instead he starts fiddling with the papers again, restacking them until all the edges are aligned perfectly. Isak can’t sit still, his foot taps against the floor.

“We have some…” he chews over his words for a few very long seconds, “concerns for our client.”

For Even, Isak wants to tell him. They’re talking about a human being, about Even. ‘Client’ is dehumanizing.

He doesn’t correct him. Doesn’t do much of anything as his tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth and his heart is pounding, because concerns for Even does not sound good. It sounds very, very bad.

It had been a few days since Isak last talked to Even, but it’s been like that for a while and Even had seemed fine the last time Isak had talked to him. Surely – surely someone would’ve called him if something had happened. A few select people of Even’s team know about him, one of them would’ve called Even’s husband if something had happened, if something was wrong, right?

A million thoughts and scenarios fly through Isak’s head as he tries to figure out just what could’ve gone wrong, but none of it seems likely.

It had been part of the contract that Even had to keep up with his medication, had to present proof that he was doing so, Isak knows that, but that doesn’t stop him from nearly leaping up to find Even’s prescriptions, to call Even and tell him to tell them, to call Even’s psychiatrist and have her tell them – he knows Even’s doing alright, there haven’t been any signs whatsoever that he’s slipping! Isak hasn’t spoken to him for more than a couple of days by now, but there hadn’t been any reason to suspect Even of being on the cusp of an episode when he had last spoken to him.

Isak knows Even’s transferred everything when he moved to America – temporarily, Isak angrily reminds himself to add – to ensure he had access to any help he’d need and so he could get the medication he needed. Isak also knows Even’s team must have access to all of that information, so why –

“Has something happened?” flies out of Isak’s mouth, making Harley give him a rather unimpressed look that Isak can’t even feel embarrassed over, not over the thought of something having happened.

“Even’s fine, Isak,” Harley replies smoothly, mispronouncing Even’s name as well. Evan’s fine, Isaac.

Isak can’t even feel annoyed about it. His breath comes out long and shakily, so fucking relieved. Even’s fine. It’s not said in a right way, not in a humane way, but Isak doubts Harley personally interacts with Even, that he’s gotten a chance to get attached the way everyone around Even does. Plus, this is a professional meeting, even if Isak hadn’t been aware that it was happening. He doubts Harley would lie to him about this.

David shuffles his weight around, Isak sees the movement out of the corner of his eye. Back and forth, back and forth, Isak almost wants to offer his chair up just to get him to stop, but he wants answers and explanations more.

He shakes his head, tries to focus on Harley instead of everything else. “Then, what –“

Pete’s moved over to the dresser, looking at one of Even’s old cameras that cost a fortune and only good for taking vintage, pompous pictures. Isak wants him to stop looking at it, but the words don’t come out of his mouth, he doesn’t know how to make them. It’s obvious the camera isn’t Isak’s, but Isak’s never figured out how to talk about Even with anyone, it doesn’t matter that these three men already know about him and Even, Isak literally doesn’t have the words.

“We’re here to talk about your… affiliation with our client.”

Isak’s focus hones in on Harley. His hands are clammy, but his foot finally stills underneath the table. It’s nearly impossible to swallow past the lump that has formed in his throat in no time.

“I thought any issues about that was taken care of,” Isak bites, thinking about the thousands of signatures both of them had had to sign for the management team and then the PR team and then the team of lawyers and probably more teams that Isak’s just forgotten about. “That I am just a part of Even’s private life. He’s allowed to have a private life.”

The English words don’t feel foreign on his tongue, but compared to the three Americans in his home it sounds broken and like his tongue is too big for his mouth.

Harley frowns. He’s stopped fiddling with the papers by now, but the stillness to him just seems unnatural.

“Naturally,” he acquiesces albeit reluctantly. Isak’s foot starts tapping again. “Which is why we haven’t interfered until it became necessary.”

Isak stills.

Cold sweat runs down his back. He doesn’t know what facial expression he’s making, but Harley keeps his perfectly neutral in response.

“He hasn’t told you?” No, Even hasn’t spoken to him in days. “That’s – we’d honestly hoped he would’ve told you himself by now.”

By now. How long – what is going on? Why can’t Harley Walliams just tell him instead of stringing Isak along on a merry-go-round?

Harley does not reply. Instead, he picks up the papers, separates them into two stacks and lays out one in front of Isak, right side up this time so he can read what it says.

What it says makes Isak’s heart stop.

“We’ve had our legal-division here in Norway translate it, if it’s easier for you,” Harley hands over the second stack of papers. Isak doesn’t reach out to hold it so Harley just places it on the table in front of Isak instead.

It doesn’t matter if he sees divorce or skilsmisse, the language isn’t the fucking problem.

“What the fuck is this?” Isak’s hands are shaking, his breathing is too quick. “What the fuck is this?”

“Now, Isak,” Isaac, Harley says calmly. What right does he have to sound so calm when Isak is looking at divorce papers sent to him by Even. “Just take a moment to calm down –“

“I don’t need a moment to calm down,” Isak snaps harshly. Fuck, it hurts to breathe. “I need a goddamn explanation. This – this doesn’t make sense, this –“

He struggles to get air down to his lungs, to push it back out again. All he can see is either divorce or skilsmisse or Harley Walliams.

Harley clears his throat, slowly and pointedly. Isak wants to flip the table.

“It’s become clear that your… relation to our client has become a hindrance to any attempt to further Mr. Næsheim’s career.”

Our marriage, Isak wants to shout. His marriage to Even, Harley Walliams is a coward who can’t even say the words.

At the same time it feels like he’s just been slapped across the face, the sting of it bright and embarrassing and Isak’s cheeks feel unnaturally hot from misplaced shame, because now he knows why these men are here.

They’re here, not because Even is married, they don’t care about that. They’re here because Even is married to him, is married to a guy.

“That’s illegal,” is the first thing that flies out of his mouth. He doesn’t know where his head is at – he feels like a hypocrite, lecturing these men about pride and rights when Isak and Even have been a secret for literal years.

Pete quirks an eyebrow. “Getting divorced?”

Isak scowls at him. “Refusing Even work because of… that. That’s discrimination.”

Fuck, he can’t even say the word out loud. He’s being presented with divorce papers and he still can’t say the actual fucking words.

Harley looks exasperated. “I don’t know what it’s like over here in Norway,” he sighs, saying it like he’s out in the middle of nowhere, on a field where there’s no other company than cows instead of in central Oslo, “but over in America you don’t want to make any enemies over such an inconsequential detail as being gay is –“

Isak feels sick. “He isn’t gay,” he argues under his breath. “He’s pan.”

He doesn’t even know why he says it, lawyer-guy looks like that holds absolutely zero meaning to him, plus he looks more annoyed at having been interrupted.

“Point is,” he snaps, “no one’s going to show a gay director’s movie.”

He isn’t gay, Isak repeats in his head, but that isn’t the part that matters. It doesn’t matter if Even only likes guys or likes both guys and girls or likes anyone or no one. What matters is that he’s married to a guy, married to Isak, and that’s what’s going to stop him.

“The studio can’t sell him. They can’t get a licensing agreement with any of the distribution companies. No one wants his movie.”

It sounds miles away from Isak, like he’s only hearing an echo, like there isn’t a lawyer or a manager or whatever it is he’s supposed to be right in front of him, staring at him in disinterest as he tells him that Even has a choice, and he hasn’t picked Isak.

“I need –“ Isak chokes, slides his chair back despite how dizzy he feels. “I should – I’m gonna call him. I just –“

“Isak,” Harley reaches out and grabs onto Isak’s wrist before he can stand up fully. He keeps mispronouncing his name, pronounces it like he’s American. Isaac. It throws Isak off balance more than he already is. “He’s already made his choice.”

It sounds so final. It is final, but none of it is making sense in Isak’s head.

Why would Even just send three guys to tell him? Why couldn’t he just pick up the phone, explain what’s going on? Why couldn’t he just fucking tell him that he is filing for a divorce?

Oh god. Isak’s about to be divorced. Divorced. He isn’t going to be married, isn’t going to be married to Even, and Isak doesn’t know how to live a life like that, never thought he’d have to.

He really, really wants to pick up his phone and just call Even, just to talk to him, like he always wants to when something’s wrong, when something is right, even if that isn’t the case right now, but –

But now he’s being told he’s the only one who feels like that, who feels the comfort and the want and the need for his, for his –

Even isn’t going to be his husband anymore. Even is going to be his ex. Isak is being divorced. Separated, whatever.

Suddenly, it doesn’t seem as imperative that they hadn’t told anyone when they were friends, when they were something more, when they were actual boyfriends, when they were engaged, when they got married. All that seems to matter now is that Even wants to write all of those moments off, and Isak is being left behind in the dust.

“There’s something else,” Harley says.

Isak’s eyes snap up to look at him. More? What more could there possibly be?

Pete brings out a smaller wad of papers from his briefcase. These papers aren’t from Even. Even wouldn’t even have thought of giving Isak a fucking non-disclosure agreement.

Harley holds out an ink pen that had probably cost more than Isak’s monthly rent does. “We’re going to need you to keep quiet about everything.”

OOOOO

Isak can’t sit still once they’ve left.

He’d spent close to half an hour in despondent silence, completely unresponsive. Harley had kept talking, then Pete and David had tried, but all Isak had been able to do was stare at the papers.

Divorce, divorce, divorce.

He’s not married anymore. Isak isn’t married anymore. He isn’t married to Even, because Even had found out that you couldn’t be a successful director in America and have a husband waiting for you at home, so he had cut off the husband.

For how long had Even known? How many conversations have they had where Even had already made up his mind, where Isak had wasted time crossing out dates to count down for when Even was coming home, when Even was in fact never coming home again.

Isak paces back and forth again. He feels trapped, like he’s stuck in a cage that’s been decorated to appear as a home.

He picks up his phone. He should call Even, he should demand to hear Even explain himself, not three lawyers explain it for him.

Isak throws the phone onto the bed instead.

He cards his fingers through his hair, then does it again, and again, harder and harder until his scalp is hurting and his eyes are watering and, fuck, divorce. He crumbles onto the floor, pressing his eyes against his knees and holding onto his hair tighter and tighter.

Isak feels – he feels young. And he feels stupid. And he feels utterly heartbroken.

It hasn’t been more than a quarter of a day when Isak’s phone buzzes.

Isak blinks slowly, his eyelashes scratching weirdly against the floor. He’ll probably have a mark on his face from how long he’s been lying there.

It takes ages to pick himself up off the floor, to sit up, and then it takes just as long to just stare at his phone, lying innocently wrong side up on top of the duvet. Isak’s hand shakes when he reaches out and grabs it, his fingers twitching as he unlocks it.

They’re showing my movie! the text says and Isak feels sick.

Alright, he already got the hint; Even wants the divorce so he can be a big movie director, fine, but he doesn’t have to shove it in Isak’s face. God, Isak feels sick, he thinks he might actually throw up over a text message.

It takes another day for the phone calls to start ringing in.

Constantly, constantly, his ring tone sounds, the stupid jingle Even had set up – some theme song from some movie Isak doesn’t want to think about, because he doesn’t want to be thinking about Even. Isak doesn’t get out of bed to answer the calls or turn the phone off.

His phone runs out of battery at the end of the day.

When he finally can’t stand lying in his own filth anymore and he isn’t currently crying, he gets up and plugs it in.

86 missed calls. 236 new messages. All his storage has been filled up. One of those texts are from Eskild, just sending him a picture of himself pouting at the camera, text written on the picture saying miss you xxx, and it’s stupid that that’s what makes Isak tear up again. Not the 235 messages from Even, but one dumb picture from Eskild.

He hates crying and he’s been doing nothing but for the past couple of days. He reeks and he has no energy and he hates being here in his goddamn home – his home with Even.

Even’s things are everywhere. There’s his stupid hoodie still slung over the back of the chair, and there are his movies, various knickknacks, all his drawings pinned up on the wall, a couple of old notebooks, his clothes, his favorite mug, and Isak wants to scream and tear it all apart. He wants to hurt Even as much as he’s hurting.

He storms into the kitchen to smash that stupid cup to bits and pieces. Flings the cupboard door open to tear it out of its place and into millions of unfixable pieces.

He crumbles onto the floor before he can do any of that. He’s clutching on to the mug desperately, the sobs wrack through his body, the sounds coming out of his mouth ugly and so loud he doesn’t hear the phone start ringing again.

OOOOO

The mature thing would be to call Even up, demand an explanation, actually talk things through.

It’s the mature thing to do. It’s the rational thing to do.

But Isak both feels so incredibly young and small right now and he’s the furthest thing from rational.

He just – he doesn’t want to actually hear the words coming out of Even’s mouth. Doesn’t want to hear him admit directing and writing just being more important to him than Isak has ever been, could ever be.

And, like, it’s – it’s not okay, none of this is okay, but that’s the exact reason why Isak let him go to begin with. Why he was okay and why he encouraged Even to go to America, to just go for it, try it out. He’d wanted it for Even, still does, somewhere deep, deep, deep inside where the hurt and pain hasn’t fully torn him apart just yet.

It’s not far off, though. Isak feels how the bitterness threatens to swallow him up.

He didn’t know Even going off to follow his dream meant leaving Isak behind. That had never been what it was about – at least, it hadn’t been what it was about to Isak. Right now, Isak has no idea what Even ever thought the plan or the point was. He doesn’t know which version is better, easier to believe in for his rapidly crumbling mental health; that Even had been aware already before he left Norway that leaving Isak could very quickly turn from a temporary to a permanent situation, or if it’s nicer to think that Even had always planned to come back to him at one point, and only when directly faced with the choice he hadn’t chosen Isak.

It’s both stupidly easy and stupidly hard to pack up all of Even’s things.

He does it mindlessly, which is the easy part. The hard part is to actually bear the thought that he’s getting rid of Even’s things.

He should be angry. He is – he is so fucking angry he’s furious and he’s hurt, but if he stops to think about all of that again he’ll end up crying and Isak is so fucking sick of crying.

His body doesn’t allow him to go on, though, so that’s where he is now; sitting on their – his bed, looking helplessly around in their – his flat that looks like a tornado has swept through it.

Everything is in disarray and there are boxes on every available flat surface area, most only packed halfway. Isak’s sitting with Even’s hoodie in his hands, twisting the drawstrings around his fingers, around and around and around until he feels dizzy and hollow with it.

God, this wasn’t what he’d thought his life would be.

He’s already sent in his applications for university weeks before everything went to shit. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go there when everything is so shit, doesn’t know how to focus enough to take his exams, to pass his exams, to show up at school, to show up to a university where he doesn’t know anyone and no one knows him and –

The hoodie is soft in his hands and he can’t bring himself to get rid of Even’s things, he can’t, but he can’t stand to look at them either and he can’t stand not being able to look at them.

Fuck.

Fuck, he doesn’t know what to do.

OOOOO

Confusion comes first.

It’s there when Isak’s being told Even has sent a team of lawyers and managers to tell him they’re getting a divorce. When he apparently couldn’t bring himself to tell Isak himself.

Isak knows it was there when he kept repeating to said lawyers that Even isn’t gay, because he isn’t, but he kept saying it like that was the important part – not the divorce part.

And it’s there when Isak wonders what the fuck went wrong, what did he do, why does Even want this? He can’t figure it out – absolutely none of it, because none of it makes sense, and Isak’s just so fucking confused.

He thought they were alright, he thought they were making it, he thought they were strong enough to wait for Isak to finish up school, graduate, and then he come travel around with Even wherever he wanted to go to film and it would be brilliant.

He thought they were in love. And he’s so confused, because he really thought he knew Even, and he’s so certain he would’ve picked up on it along the way the moment it turned from Isak and Even loving each other to only Isak being in love.

Confusion is awful, and it leaves Isak dizzy and with a headache and feeling vaguely ill. He wants to call someone, wants to call Eskild, because Eskild always helps, but Eskild doesn’t know about Even, about Isak, no one knows and now –

It takes a while for the confusion to turn into denial.

It’s easy to tell it’s denial, because all Isak does is stare at the papers with big, bold, black letters at the top spelling out d-i-v-o-r-c-e, and all he can think is that doesn’t make sense. Those papers aren’t for him, they’re for someone else, their neighbors, the one’s next door who are always fighting. They’re meant for people whose love turned so ugly and violent there was absolutely no way back – the antithesis to him and Even.

It’s all centered around we’re in love, like that’ll fix everything, like it’s both the problem and the solution, because they’re in fucking love.

Isak paces back and forth, going along the small stretch by the foot of their bed before he hits the chairs at the table and the dresser at the other end, back and forth, back and forth. Stops and stares at the papers for a few beats too long, and then starts pacing again until he gets so dizzy he has to lay down.

He should just call Even. It’s what makes sense – the only thing out of all of this that makes fucking sense. Isak doesn’t know why he doesn’t just pick up the goddamn phone and call Even. If he wants this divorce so fucking badly, he can damn well tell him himself.

It doesn’t take long for denial to turn to anger.

Confusion made Isak feel off-kilter and sick. Denial made him feel like he was going out of his mind, like he was living in a parallel universe where the curtains are non-existent because there are shutters put up instead, like this isn’t his life.

Anger is ugly. Probably one of the ugliest feelings Isak has ever felt.

It curls up in his stomach and chest like a beast, grumbling to be let out. Isak feels it looming, feels it growing until it finally bursts out.

Denial had made him want to call Even and demand an explanation, demand being told that this entire thing is just a prank, that it’s for a film, that he’s still in love with him, whatever, Isak will accept whatever reason Even gives him.

Anger is different. Anger makes him want to hurt Even, makes him want to never see him again, makes him want for Even to suffer.

It makes him wish that he never met Even to begin with, that he never moved out of the kollektiv, that they never got married, that they never fell in love in the first place, that Even never showed him all he could have, all he ever wanted and dreamt of, and then ripped it away again within the same breath.

It’s there when he stares at his phone, stares at the text message that so clearly shows Even’s enthusiasm at his film being shown just because Isak signed a couple papers and effectively ended their marriage. Isak stares at the exclamation marks, feels his heartbeat pick up and sees how his hands start to shake, how he squeezes around the phone too hard, how he can barely breathe, how he’s seeing red.

And all the anger, the hurt, everything, that had been bubbling away inside of him boils over.

They’ve still got some moving boxes left over from when they moved in; tucked nicely away in the closet, unfolded and flat and serving as a barrier between the floor and their shoes. The top box is a little muddy from Isak’s trainers, but it’s long since dried up so it just flakes off when Isak accidentally touches it.

It just makes him feel even more angry to see the dirt lying on the floor. Stupid, fuck, shit, fucking shit.

It shouldn’t be this easy to pack another person’s life into three boxes, shouldn’t be so easy to pick apart Even’s belongings from Isak’s, but it is. Isak tears through their flat like a tornado, a goddamn whirlwind that doesn’t care about the destruction it leaves behind.

He packs away some of the camera equipment Even left behind first, isn’t one bit careful with it because he doesn’t care if it cracks, to hell with that. Even’s off to be a big movie director, he can goddamn well afford to replace whatever shitty second-hand shit he’d gotten his hands on back when movies had shared a first place in his priorities. Isak can probably just blame it on however that ends up shipping it across the globe to him, say he forgot the fragile sticker and leave it at that.

Then he grabs whatever else of knick-knacks Even had left behind. Movies, drawing utensils, books. They all make satisfying thumps and crashes when Isak throws them together; metal scraping against metal and possibly one or two pencils and brushes snapping in half. Isak feels vindictive and vindicated all in one.

They don’t have any photographs of the two of them around, didn’t dare to, just in case, so Isak makes a mental note to delete them off of his phone instead, every single last one of them. Or maybe print some of them out first so he can burn them.

He ends with the clothes, because throwing clothes around is never satisfying, and Isak had hoped he would’ve burned through at least some of the anger by now, but he hasn’t, he really, really hasn’t.

Seeing Even’s clothes probably makes it worse.

It’s difficult to tell what’s Even’s and what’s Isak’s; all of it so intertwined and interchangeable Isak wants to tear it all apart instead of sorting through it. He keeps the Jesus-shirt, because it’s originally Eskild’s, and Eskild is Isak’s so Even sure as hell isn’t getting it.

But the clothes are also the worst thing to get rid of, because they’ve been sealed up in the closet or the dresser for months by now. They’ve mixed with Isak’s scent, with the scent of their laundry detergent, sure, but they still smell so much like Even it actually brings Isak to his knees and makes him struggle to breathe.

That feeling doesn’t go away. Even when he manages to get up onto his knees, then his feet, then onto the bed, Isak still feels it.

It’s like there’s something in his chest, weighing him down; his heart, his lungs, everything – nothing is left alone, and Isak feels heavy with it.

It’s – god, everything is so fucked up, and now that Isak’s paused in his frenzy it’s so fucking obvious Isak kind of wants to laugh.

He ends up crying instead. Crying and unable to breathe and looking utterly pathetic, buried between mountains of clothes strewn all over the place, like the closet actually exploded all over him, clutching what had always been his favorite of Even’s hoodies.

It’s soft and worn through and it smells so much like Even that Isak physically can’t let go of it. He can’t. His fingers won’t cooperate, and when he tries to throw it his arms refuse to work.

OOOOO

Isak picks up the phone when the unanswered calls list is closer to quadruple digits than triple.

“Just pick up – Isak!” Even breathes when he realizes Isak actually picked up. “Isak, thank god, don’t hang up, please – “

He hadn’t expected hearing Even’s voice to hurt as much as it does. It hurts.

He wants to demand an explanation, demand an apology, wants to be assertive and confident and not let Even know just how fucked up he is right now. He wants to shout and be mean and make Even feel bad, and at the same time he desperately wants for Even to say it’s been a bad prank, that he’s awful and he’s sorry and of course he’s not leaving Isak.

Suddenly, Isak does not want an explanation. He doesn’t want to hear a single word from Even.

“Have your team send out your stuff to you,” he says instead of all that. He’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake.

“Isak, I – what?”

Isak squeezes his eyes shut. “And figure out what you want to do with –“ our home “– the apartment. It’s your name on the lease, so you need to be the one to put it up for sale, if that’s what you want to do.”

“If that’s what I – Isak, for god’s sake, just stop!”

‘Just stop’? ‘Just stop’? Isak is the one who wants it to stop, what the hell is Even telling him to stop for?

He just wants everything to be over.

He doesn’t look over at the two boxes filled with Even’s things that Isak couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing again. The stupid, stupid hoodie is lying at the bottom of one of them.

“I’ll leave my key underneath the doormat for them. If some of your shit is missing it’s because I’ve gotten rid of it.”

“Isak –“

Isak hangs up, shuts off his phone and throws it onto the bed. Then he spends the next day, curled up, unmoving and unresponsive.

OOOOO

He doesn’t know what to do.

He can’t just show up at the kollektiv with all of his shit, there isn’t any room for him and he doesn’t know how to explain any of it. He can’t stay in their basement either, not with how close Eskild had been to getting in a lot of trouble with the landlord.

For the first time in so long, Isak doesn’t have a home to come back to. He’s on his own and he doesn’t know what to do, where to go.

He figures it out by accident.

It’s a complete coincidence that he gets the email when he goes to charge his phone, the notification popping up at the same time as the screen lights up to tell Isak it’s charging.

The answer to some – one – of Isak’s problems comes in the form of student housing, because Isak’s been accepted to UiO. He got in.

He doesn’t stick around long enough to find out who Even sends to take care of the apartment or how he even plans on doing it. He just leaves his key underneath the doormat like he’d told Even he would, walks down all four flights of stairs and doesn’t turn around or look back.

He’s got enough stuff to warrant two trips back and forth his and Even’s – the old apartment and the new flat he’ll share with eight other people, but Isak knows that if he has to go back, he’ll never actually leave, he’ll just be stuck there until Even’s people throw him out. He can’t let that happen, can’t let anyone see him like that, can’t have them reporting back to Even, you broke your husband.

Ex-husband, Isak reminds himself. Ex. He broke his ex-husband, because that part is true enough. Isak can’t remember ever feeling this torn apart ever before.

So he fits everything he owns into a suitcase, two backpacks and two boxes of Even’s stuff that he can’t bring himself to let go off, and he wrangles all of it onto the tram halfway across Oslo. The further the better, he thinks bitterly.

He stops on the way there to buy a bottle of something, anything – whiskey, he thinks it is he ends up with. He doesn’t check, just goes for the cheapest there is with the highest alcohol percentage, grabs it, hands over the money and leaves.

He just wants to forget. He wants to not feel broken.

Somewhere underneath all of the hurt and the anger, there’s a small part of Isak that’s happy for Even. Despite how much he tries to crush it down, suppress it, tear it apart, it doesn’t go away. He can’t stand thinking the thought already, not already it’s too close, but he knows it’s because he’s still so terribly, horribly in love with Even.

Next part

[chikoriita]

The Search for Sora Ch.6

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Interlude II: Naminé

Enough was enough. The last 24 hours passed without progress. If this morning did not result in any changes, Naminé swore she would chuck her pencil at them.

“Them” referred to the castle inhabitants: Ansem the Wise and his apprentices. She was not sure who counted in that group anymore.

She arrived this morning, escorted by Cid and Leon upon the King’s orders. Naminé expected a welcome akin to the one she received at her awakening. Tacit acceptance and professional respect. She assumed these grown men were mature enough to face her.

Not at all. Aeleus, the silent stalwart, was kind enough to take her bags to her room and meet her with a small smile. The most Dilan did was allow her into the castle and direct her to the library. Inside sat only Ienzo, nervously shaking his leg. His long hair, messy as always, hung over his eyes.

Naminé barely got one word out when he stood up and quickly blurted, “Welcome to the castle. Here’s your information. Goodbye!”

Before she even blinked, he dropped a file at her feet and shot out of the room. The only sign that he was there was the cup of tea on the table.

If she hadn’t been so shocked by his rudeness, Naminé would have been angry. If anyone should be wary, it was her! She came into this assignment with reservations, considering their shared past. She wanted to work with the Restoration Committee instead, but the King insisted that she take point. The Castle had better connections with the Gummi Network, and Ienzo already worked extensively with Chip and Dale. Ansem the Wise assured the King that she was welcome at the Castle.

After spending the evening alone in her room with only the information in the file and dinner, she felt truly welcome that night. At least Ienzo left her room key in the file. Little favors, she supposed.

Ansem the Wise, DiZ as she knew him, still held a grudge it seemed. Naminé was the loose end he never tied up. That fact alone is why it mystified her that he was the main reason she and Roxas came back. Without him and the other apprentices, it might not have been possible.

Naminé knew when to be grateful. The window for gratitude was quickly closing. Her mission was to help Kairi and Riku find a way to bring Sora back, not deal with these childish antics.

Well, if no one wanted to show her around, she might as well get used to her new headquarters in the lab. Naminé pulled the map out of the file Ienzo gave her and grabbed her bag. The route to the lab was legible and clearly marked. ‘This should be simple enough.’

She tiptoed down the hallway and followed the dim lights to the lift stop at the end. The darkness frightened her just a bit. On one hand, the others would be asleep and not in her way. On the other, she hated being alone. From birth to rebirth, Naminé was alone. She was tired of it. When Riku came to escort her to Destiny Islands, she vowed that she would not allow anymore solitude in her life.

Naminé thought on her promise as she entered the lift stop chamber. The moonlight filtered through the stained glass on the ceiling, reflecting light everywhere. If not for the dead silence in the castle, Naminé may have appreciated the view more. Right then, however, all she wanted was to get to the basement level. She stifled a small giggle; she doubted anyone ever hurried down to the laboratories.

The computers’ soft buzzing welcomed her to the lab. She found multiple stations in various states of disarray. All except one. That one had only one piece of paper.

Welcome Naminé

If the handwriting on her file was any indication, this was Ienzo’s doing. Out of all of the apprentices, he was the mystery. His contradictory actions confused her. First, he meticulously organized a welcome packet for her, then soon after, dropped it and ran away.

She waved away those thoughts. As long as she was here, she add a few personal touches to her workstation. She had already papered the walls at Isa and Lea’s house with her observational drawings. Naminé was determined to leave her mark everywhere now. Never again would she fade into oblivion with nothing to remember her by. Here, she started at her computer.

As she considered which of her drawings to pin first, she heard the soft hiss of the sliding door to the manufactory. Someone else was down here. Gasp. Correction: someone else knew she was down here. She glanced out the door window and saw the glimpse of lavender hair.

She shook her head. “I don’t bite, Ienzo,” Naminé called out to the man hiding behind the door. “You can come in.”

The door slid open once again, and Ienzo poked his head around the corner. She waved him inside, and he slowly shuffled into the lab.

“I did not want to - that is - You are settling? I mean, are you okay?” Ienzo stumbled over his words.

She continued arranging the sketches on her desk and shrugged. “Well enough. Although,” she swiveled toward him on the chair, “I prefer my coworkers not avoiding me.”

He winced. “We deserve that. I deserve that.” He walked slowly toward her and avoided eye contact.

Even now, Naminé could not believe the treatment. He was talking to and still avoiding her. Enough was enough. She laughed harshly. “I expected at least professional courtesy despite our history.”

Ienzo raised a brow, barely visible under his hair. “Despite?”

“I am not just a Replica. I remember everything.” Remembered more than she cared to. Marluxia’s taunts and Larxene’s blows. Her time at Castle Oblivion and the Organization… the less she reminisced, the less it continued to hurt her.

“Don’t you see! That’s why we decided to leave you be.”

His words stalled Namine’s thoughts. “Pardon?” She asked, trying to meet his eyes.

He refused to look at her, instead choosing to pace around the lab. “Ansem the Wise is terrified to see you,” Ienzo started.

She did not predict that sentiment, and knowing it hurt more than she thought possible. It must be due to the new heart. If only data-hearts didn’t hurt as much as the real ones.

“He’s scared? But I don’t even have my powers anymore!” Naminé insisted. “I can’t hurt anyone. I promise.” Tears burned her, trying to escape no matter how hard she held them back.

Ienzo stopped his pacing and mouthed the words she just said.

“Hurt anyone?” He whispered in confusion. He turned to her and saw her crumpled face. “Naminé,” he said softly. Ienzo knelt in front of her. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

She felt the traitorous drops on her hands clenched in her skirt. She nodded.

“The five of us harmed more lives than you can imagine. Even I, who was barely older than Kairi when everything occurred, share the blame. The only way to live the rest of our lives is to repay those we hurt. The Organization’s reach was great, but the greatest sin was their cruelty to you.”

Naminé wiped her eyes and glanced at Ienzo. Standing, he towered over her, same as the rest of the apprentices. Now, he looked like he wanted to shrink into the ground at her feet.

She spoke quietly, just loud enough to rival the hum of the machines.“Aren’t we all here to get over our pasts? How do we move beyond the horrible history we all share?”

He looked up but didn’t answer her. Maybe there wasn’t a clear cut answer. Maybe, just maybe, she and Ienzo and all the other former Nobodies would find meaning in their lives past their darkest phase. Together.

The next morning was a stark difference from the night prior. Instead of a cold dinner and solitude, she found a spread of piping hot breakfast items with a serving of company.

Naminé cleared her throat. “Thank you for the invitation,” she directed to the five men sitting alongside her at the table. Ienzo chose the seat across from her. The others looked down at their meals in silent contemplation. He must have spoken to them after their late night chat. When he found the time, she had no idea.

“Naminé.” Ansem moved from his position at the head of the table toward her. He placed a gift box in her hands with his head bowed. “We wanted to take this moment to officially welcome you to our group. Forgive our misguided actions.”

Even scoffed. “Specify which ones, Master,” he murmured. Ansem turned a sharp eye to his apprentice. He, in return, shrugged it off and continued buttering his toast.

Naminé opened the top to reveal a matching lab coat to the ones Ienzo and Even wore.

“It is our small token of appreciation. We hope you will wear it to welcome Kairi and Riku when they arrive tomorrow.”

“We all owe you thanks.” Naminé raised a brow. Surely Aeleus did not waste his precious words on her? How thoughtful.

Dilan grunted. “Be thankful by allowing her and all of us to eat breakfast, you sap.” He pushed the eggs toward Aeleus with a sharp look.

She chose to return to her food, lest she start crying, and the others followed suit. She doubted any of these men wished to see her bawl over their breakfast at their touching gesture. She glanced around the room and thought of a proper response to their kindness. Her eyes met Ienzo’s across the table. She thought of his words last night, thought of how he mentioned that there was still a debt to be paid.

Naminé cleared her throat to gain their attention and raised her teacup. “You can thank me by helping us find Sora.”

“Aye.” Ienzo responded by raising his as well.

The others raised their various drinks in a toast. “To finding Sora,” Namine whispered with a smile.

[hanayuki23]

Of Monsters and Flowers

Part 1

He didn’t even remember how it started.

A moment before he was with Sora, eyes full of him and shoulder against the other’s, and a second later, as he watched him walking away with the promise of a new encounter the next day, Roxas felt a slight tickle in his throat. And he coughed.

At first, Roxas thought that a petal must got stuck to his clothes when… right, when they walked by the flower shop downtown. Sora couldn’t help but stop to have a better view of that little show of colors and smells that the plants didn’t ever get tired of delivering.

He was so beautiful, surrounded by all those flowers, all those colorful plants that looked like they wanted to frame that sweet smile.

Roxas’ heart couldn’t really handle it any longer, and right at that moment he felt his lungs giving up and the intoxicating smell of flowers blurring his mind.

But Sora was right there, with him, and making him worry was the last thing he actually wanted. And then he put that on tiredness.

Roxas smiled fondly to the memory of that afternoon together, and gently caressed the petal he held on the palm, thinking that it actually was Sora’s hand.

Sora, Sora, Sora…

If only he knew, if only Roxas had the courage to…

Another cough, another little yellow petal fell exactly where there was Sora’s hand.

-

Roxas had already heard about the disease. It didn’t have a precise name, people commonly called it the flower disease, and nobody exactly knew how and when the symptoms of the infection started showing. The only certainty was that if the patient manifested the first symptoms of the disease, then it had to be unrequited love.

Roxas knew that someday it would have happened to him as well.

He figured it out that time, when Sora hugged him and whispered his name, and Roxas came to the conclusion that it wasn’t enough anymore. Being his friend wasn’t enough, being a part of him wasn’t enough.

Roxas loved him, and if it was easy for the boy to admit it, what followed wasn’t that simple.

What right did he have to have feelings? Damn, Roxas was Sora. What were the odds for the others of accepting such a thing? What were the odds for Sora of accepting such a thing?

They knew everything about each other, of course, but both of them came from two totally different worlds. Sora was the light, the hero of the worlds, the one who loved and was loved by everyone, and Roxas was darkness, exactly his counterpart. They were each other’s lacking part.

During his short life, Roxas had always thought he didn’t have a heart, he didn’t even deserve to exist and, although Sora showed him the opposite everyday trying to make him understand in every possible way how grateful he was to be able to know him and be together at last, Roxas felt like his was a lost cause from the beginning.

He wasn’t worthy, like he couldn’t live up to his somebody. Roxas wasn’t a Nobody anymore, but he felt like one.

For this reason, he forced himself to hide everything inside of him. Sora would never have understood anything.

But pretending had never been so hard.

The mere presence of his somebody was enough to make him crazy, just being that close made him wanting to shout to his face what he felt, and he often had to bite his own tongue in order to desist.

His love, as much as Roxas tried, couldn’t be controlled, and if it couldn’t come out with good, it would have found other ways to do it.

That’s why, when Roxas saw the first two petals, he wasn’t actually that surprised.

There were only two ways to put an end to the illness: mutual love or death. And to Roxas just the second option was valid, there was no doubt. Sora wouldn’t ever loved him back, he wouldn’t ever love what was another part of him after all.

When would the disease start to go downhill? How long would it have taken to kill him?

Roxas looked up to the sky, and waited for it to fall down on him.

I will never be worthy, I will never be worthy, I will never be worthy.

Roxas had already died once, dying once more wouldn’t have made any difference.

-

Few weeks passed since the first symptoms showed up, and the infection was getting worse. Now Roxas coughed entire flowers, the disease didn’t leave him rest, and meeting with Sora became now a torture.

Their meet ups were getting rarer and rarer, and as much as Sora looked for him and asked him out, Roxas would always make up a thousand excuses rather than see him. Rather than be seen in that state.

Last time they saw each other, just the sight of the messy hair that Sora proudly wore, Roxas felt something moving in his chest and making its way up his throat, and sadly for him it wasn’t the heart.

It would have been too easy.

His body bent forward and the boy coughed once, twice, three times, and little yellow flowers filled his hands. Roxas paled and tried to hide them, but it was too late.

No, please. Not now, not-

“Roxas! Are you okay?!”

Sora was immediately by his side, he placed a hand on his shoulder and started massaging his back with the other, soothing him.

“Y-yes I’m fine, it’s okay now.”

As much as the boy tried to seek relief in the other’s gesture, and as much as he was happy for that attention, Roxas’ thoughts kept on going to the flowers he was holding in his hands. But Sora seemed not to have noticed them, or else he would have already started pestering him with questions, and then the boy realized that no one else could see them. Roxas sighed in relief, letting out a few other petals.

At least no one will know what I’m dying for, he thought with bitterness.

But Roxas hated making Sora worry, hated causing him problems, and if the disease wanted to draw him out, then he wouldn’t have seen his somebody ever again.

If he was lucky, he would be dead soon.

Or so he thought. Roxas forgot how stubborn and persistent Sora could be.

- 

“Look, it’s a marigold. Isn’t it cute?” Naminé said, pointing at something in the grass, not too far from them.

Xion was holding her hand, and Roxas was silently walking behind them, with eyes set on their entwined hands and envy eating him, trying not to imagine himself instead of Xion and Sora instead of Naminé.

What was he even doing there? Oh, right, Xion practically forced him into it. She told her friend that some fresh air would help him get better, but Roxas was always thinking about how that situation was doing to him the opposite effect.

The girls got closer to the little flower and Xion bent down to see it up close.

“In some cultures, marigolds are used in wedding celebrations, while in other ones they’re connected to the dead. Love and death together, both represented by a flower so small. It’s funny, isn’t it?” Naminé explained.

Xion kept on contemplating the marigold, thoughtful, and she eventually plucked it. Xion let go of Namine’s hand and got closer to the boy, placing the flower behind Roxas’ ear.

“I don’t know why, but this flower reminds me of you, I think it suits you.”

“And it really looks good on you” Naminé added, giving him a bright smile.

Roxas would have wanted to tell them how right they were, and thought that if that little marigold represented him as his best friend said, then it wasn’t the disease that was killing him, but it was somehow himself.

Now he knew the name of the flower.

-

Roxas was letting himself die, and at the same time something else was taking his place. All of the thoughts he had been growing for a long time and had been keeping for himself showed up since the illness appeared. The sense of inadequacy, the envy, the feeling of loneliness and loss didn’t leave him be, and the closer Roxas got to death, the more they tried to come out and take shape.

The boy hated himself. When he looked at his own reflection in the mirror, Roxas couldn’t recognize himself anymore, he couldn’t even see Sora. There was another person staring back at him, with a pale and sunken face and dark circles around the eyes: a monster that only Roxas could see.

“Roxas! Naminé made me a portrait! Isn’t it amazing? She’s so talented, I’m sure she’s going to make a great artist!”

Good for her.

“I think I’ll confess to Isa, it’s about time. I have to come up with something and it has to be really cool, so he’ll get it memorized forever.”

Congratulations.

“Hayner, Olette and I are going to graduate next month. We’ll throw a big party and you’ll be our special guest! You can’t miss it!”

How lucky. I don’t even know if I’ll be still alive next month.

“I finally managed to become a Keyblade master! I wish you’d been there, you know…”

I’ll never be enough, I’ll never be enough, I’ll never be-

“And you? What are you up to?” the monster trapped in the mirror, trapped in his mind, asked.

I throw up flowers. Oh, and I’m going to die.

-

“Roxas, have you seen Vanitas lately, by any chance?” Ventus asked, out of the blue.

Vanitas?

“Since when do you care about him?”

“Don’t be a jerk! You know that now we’ve put everything behind us. It’s just that I haven’t seen him for a while, that’s all.”

Ventus bit down his lip, worried. There was something that he didn’t want to tell him, but Roxas didn’t care.

“No, I haven’t. if I ever see him, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Ventus thanked him, and the two of them got back to talk about trivial things.

When they parted, Roxas took the path to home and, turning into the alley he used to take as a shortcut, he saw a trail of carnations laid one after another and followed it, intrigued.

As he went on, Roxas could swear he heard coughing, and it was getting louder and persistent.

He picked up the pace.

If Roxas was in a tale, that would probably have been the moment in which he would have realized (too late, of course) that he had been lured in a trap and that he was going to end with being killed or eaten by the bad guy, but when Roxas turned the corner, all he saw was Vanitas.

Vanitas sitting on the ground, with the back resting against a dirty wall, as he was coughing a carnation after the other.

And Roxas couldn’t have been any happier and surprised at the same time.

[angelspigeon]

What if Namine and Xion are trying makeup but they've literally never done it before so they have no idea how it works. Lea stumbles upon them and has to teach them

Hi!!!

Thank you for your ask!!

I’m totally Naminé and Xion on this so my best friend (who is totally my Lea) had to help me out a bit. I did my best and I hope it will please you!!!

Words : 1 359

Door to AO3 => |  °|

“Olette is always so pretty…” Xion let out with a soft sigh.

At a few paces from her, and Naminé sat on the bench next to her, Olette was talking with Seifer. Sometimes, she laughed softly. For once, they weren’t with Roxas, Hayner and Pence and it was all girl-things. Hayner thought they will talk boys, pretty mammals and crafts. He was wrong!

Except for the crafts.

They all loved crafting and drawing.

But except that, they were talking about how to fight correctly, self-defense and a bit of their favorite books. Olette’s favorite was a Knight story the two girls wanted to read and, hearing about the evil witch, Naminé was thrilled to see her because she wanted to draw that!!

But then Seifer came to ask something to Olette and here they are.

Not that neither of them was surprised. Maybe it was a part of those “girly talk” they were supposed to have according to Hayner, and sometimes Roxas, but they were the only one to know Olette was dating Seifer. Hayner wouldn’t like that because he was still his ‘enemy’ and he would worry for his best friend.

Or maybe she was worrying for nothing.

Anyway…

Olette was always so pretty. How was it possible? She never had bedhead, she always had red cheek, a pretty smile with colorful lips, even sick, and deer eyes…

Xion thought she was pretty, and cute, which their fathers would approve but it happened time where she felt ugly. Same for Naminé.

“She’s using makeup, you know? You can close your mouths.”

Xion and Naminé both turned their head toward Fuu who came with Seifer.

“Makeup?” Naminé repeated.

Fuu nodded.

“Do you use some too?” Xion asked.

Fuu nodded once again.

Xion and Naminé leaned in to watch her. Fuu turned on the side, showing their back to them. Naminé glanced at Olette.

“I would like to be as pretty as Olette,” she sighed.

“Do you have some makeup we can borrow, Fuu, pretty please?” Xion asked, using her best weapon.

The puppy eyes.

Fuu watched them. “You should buy your own. You would have the color you like.”

Xion and Naminé glanced at each other. They have money every week and they could buy what they want. They could buy some of those?

Naminé was an artist so she was confident!

It shouldn’t be that difficult to draw on a face instead of paper!!!

  It was a bit late when the two girls came back from their expedition in the supermarket. They took out vests and shoes and walked quickly toward the stairs.

“Xion, Naminé?”

They both stopped in the steps.

“Yes?” Naminé said.

“You’re late. Is something wrong?”

“No, no!! The food is already ready?” Xion asked.

“No.” Isa came in the room with a frown. “You haven’t done anything bad?”

“I swear!” Xion said, raising her hands.

“Hm… Make sure to have your homework done before we eat. The food must be ready in one hour.”

“Okay!”

None of them were afraid of that possible lack of them. Finally, Olette stayed a lot with Seifer. They both understood and so they just did their homework while she enjoyed a bit of time with her boyfriend.

And now, they were going on their room to try some makeup.

They took out the boxes they have bought with a bit of excitation. They had taken so many colors…

Xion had seen a box with wrote ‘Mermaid makeup’ and so she took it. It was green, blue and purple, mostly, and full of glitter!! It brought back some memories. It was pleasant… Naminé had chosen the lipstick and she chose different red pretty shiny.

They were both excited.

“Can I use this pretty orange?” Naminé asked, showing it to Xion.

“Yes!” she replied. “I really like this pink but don’t you think the blue would be better?”

“I like the blue too!” her sister replied. “You should use it!”

“Okay!”

They were both excited. As Xion used the little tool they received with the box, Naminé used a mirror to try to put on some mascara. The salesgirl managed to have them buy it, saying it was really good. They supposed Olette had some too, since she was so pretty, and so they accepted it!

  A few minutes later, Xion and Naminé were looking each other and… it was hard to say to the others the sad truth.

If Olette used makeup to be pretty, though she was without it of course, they only succeed to be uglier. They looked… well, like clowns.

“Hm… Maybe…” Xion muttered. “Maybe I can fix a little your? It misses… uh…”

“I know it’s not good… I thought it would be as easy as drawing…” Naminé whispered, a bit disappointed.

They heard a knock against the door and it opened just after. Naminé hid her face immediately. Xion looked down.

“Yeees?” she said.

It was Lea.

“Is this makeup?” the man asked.

“Maybe?” Xion replied.

“I see.”

“We can use our money for that, right?” she asked.

He nodded. “Satisfied?”

Naminé moved her hands, showing a sad face.

“It’s very awful,” she muttered.

Lea approached her hand ruffled her hairs. “I think it’s pretty good for a first time! And you have some stunning colors! I like them!”

“But… we wanted to be pretty. Like Olette…”

“Olette?” Lea repeated. “You’re prettier than her!! My baby girls are the most beautiful Princesses alive!!” he said.

“You say that just because you’re our dad!” Xion replied with a tiny smile.

“Mayyybeee,” he replied. He crouched next to them. “You wanna me to show you how to do?”

“To makeup?” Xion repeated.

“Yes!”

“You know how to do?” Naminé asked.

“How do you think I’m that pretty?!” Lea laughed. “I will give you something to remove the makeup and then, you’ll become FABULOUS!!!”

“Yes, please!!” they both said, thrilled again.

“Nice!”

Lea got up and went in his room to come back a bit after. He showed them how to do correctly. The tissues were covered with shiny colors now but Naminé was intrigued by the brushes she could see.

“I think we can pass the foundation for now because you are the cutest but I will have to show you, one day,” he said as he looked them. “You want me to do it on myself and so you can try after?”

They look at each other then him.

They would have been happy to have Lea doing the makeup for them but they also wanted to do it by themselves!

“Yes, please!” Xion said. “Can you use the blue?”

“And also this red for the lips?” Naminé asked.

“And how do you put on mascara?”

“And eyeliner? Is those colored eyeliners are okay?”

“How to have red cheeks?” Xion wondered.

“Woah! Yes for all!! Colorful eyeliners are neat but be careful. Let’s see how this will look first! And red cheeks is blush but you hadn’t buy some. Maybe we can manage to do some with your eyeshadows but I’m not sure… I’ll volunteer and will see!!”

“Yes!!”

  “The dinner is ready!!” Isa called.

Roxas was the first one to arrive in the dinner room, hungry. When he smelled the perfume of the meal, he was even more excited to eat. He hoped his sisters and his dad will arrive soon.

Lea was the first one to step in.

“You ready?” he said.

Roxas frowned when he saw him. He was used to see him put light makeup but it was rare to see him with so much makeup. Though it was pretty on him. The blue was appealing the natural color of his hairs.

“You’re very pretty,” Isa commented. “Ready for what?”

Lea moved on the side.

Xion and Naminé appeared, one with blue eyeshadow, black eyeliner and peach lips and the other with glittering pink eyelids, red lips and deep pink eyeliner.

“You’re both lovely,” Isa smiled.

“You did that?” Roxas asked.

Xion nodded.

“It’s nice!”

They were both relieved. And excited to try to do it themselves but… they will have to receive a bit of help for some times again!!

[little-birdseeker]

A True Birdseeker

((Do you want to know, what happened before? Well, there you go!))

Today was the day! Isabelle had planed it for over a week, a now everything was ready! She would show her sister that she was a real, a true Birdseeker after all! No red hair anymore! No magic! Just a normal Miqo’te who worked as a weaver! And to become that, she had everything prepared!

She had found some beautiful clothes, which she had used to make a gorgeous dress out of them. A lime green top with a dark green skirt, just like her sister! And it also looked like her favorite dress she had made in Ul’dah! She had some fond memories of the time in the city of the rich and wealthy, especially of Nalama, who still lived and worked there. She should certainly visit her soon, to find out where she worked now! In her letters, the lalafell had told her about the stern manager of shop she worked in. A lalafell like herself, who everyone in the shop was afraid of. If Isabelle wouldn’t have known it better, she would have guessed it could be Valli, but the couldn’t be, could it?

She had also managed to get a viol of hair dye, which she had already used on herself, when she took a shower. Now, her hair and her tail weren’t red anymore, but blond, like her sister. Except… there remained some red streaks in her hair, as if she couldn’t get rid of all the red there was. It was a bit strange, but… a little red couldn’t hurt, could it? Her sister would still accept her, right? Well, she had to try, at least!

The only thing she wasn’t sure about was the renunciation of her magic. She had been really proud of it, and loved to produce magic sparkles every now and then, and also… now, that she didn’t magically support her chest with her magic, it felt reeeally heavy, and her back ached a little. But it should be okay! She could exercise more, that suuurely would help!

Now, the last thing to do was to find her sister in Kugane. Isabelle walked out of the house, past the aetherythe, because that still counted as using magic. She wasn’t allowed to do that, so she had to use the normal way: the boat. It would take her a bit longer to reach the city, yes, but it was worth it! Worth it, to become a real birdseeker!

---

“Hm, who are- Oh, Isabelle, it’s you!”, Iana exclaimed when seeing her transformed sister. “You look… good”, Iana said, not sure what she was supposed to say to her sister. “I worked veeery hard the last days!”, Isabelle said proudly. “It was sooo hard to find the riiight hair dye, you know? I had to run to aaall of Kugane to find it! And it costed a fooortune! But now it looks sooo good, and it smells sooo nice! Do you want to smell it? Do you?” Full of excitement, she pushed her head forward, in the direction of Ianas nose.

“Isa, Isa, calm down!”, Iana sad quickly and grabbed her sisters shoulders, before Isabelles head rammed into her own. “Yeah, they smell delightful, i’m sure, yeah”, she nodded, even though she hadn’t smelled a glimpse of it. “But i see you also got a new dress. Where did you get something so well made?” A big smile appeared on Isabelles face, before she answered her question. “I made it by myseeelf!”, she said proudly and placed a hand of top or her chest.

“...What? You? You made this?” Iana was baffled. This little mess of a sister made something like that? At home, everything she touched had become a terrible failure, one after another. No way she could have learned to weave so quickly! “Oh, come on, Isa, you don’t have to lie to your sister. Or do you want to prevent your sister from having such nice clothes? You aren’t that mean, are you?”, she chuckled, but noticed fairly quick the pouting Isabelle in front of her. “I’m nooot lieing!!”, Isabelle shouted before crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I did that aaall alone, reeeally! If you don’t beliiieve me, i can make yooou a dress! Aaand you can watch me doing it! Hmpf!” With a last snort, Isabelle looked at her sister, full of determination. Maybe a bit angry, too, but… it was still Isabelle, after all, so she looked rather cute then angry.

But… this determination… was that really her little sister? Iana remembered, that she had always been energetic, but…  this Miqo’te was so full of determination, and it looked like she had done so much right, without failure. This was not like the sister she knew. But Isabelle couldn’t have changed so much since she had left home, could she? “Well, eh… another time maybe, okay? When i have enough time for that, i mean”, Iana responded, not quite sure about how she should feel about it.

“But eh, tell me, Isa,are you still using your magic?”, Iana asked, still a little bit jealous of her little sister about that topic. “Nope!”, Isabelle immediatly responded. “I abbandoned magic, so i could be a truuue Birdseeker! I even came here with the boat!”, she added, with a proud grinn on her face. Iana was surprised. Did her sister wanted to be accepted that badly? “Well, what a shame....”, Iana sighed while she let her finger draw some circles into the air, until a little flame poped up on her hand. “I thought we could compete against each other, you know? But, to be honest…  I think, only the eldest sibling of the Birdseekers is responsible enough to handle magic, don’t you think?”, she chuckled while watching the little flame on her hand, until she looked back at her little sister.

Isabelle was shocked to see that. Magic! Her sister could also use magic?! How? When did she learn it? And… and... “I… i thought, we… we Birdseeker caaan’t use magic!”, Isabelle stuttered, not sure what to feel about it. “How did you leeearn it?!” - “Oh, Isa, you know… i got the blessing of someone, and now… well, it feels great, doesn’t it?” A smirk showed on her face. “But like i said, i think only i am responsible enough to handle it. I wouldn’t hurt anyone, like… others do.”

While Isabelle was still at loss of words, Iana spotted the young man she had been waiting for. “Oh, Edward, i’m here!”, she waved at him. “Sorry, Isabelle, but i’m a busy woman, and need to go, okay? It was really nice to see you again, and i’m proud of your progress. And i might have been wrong about you. You might be a true Birdseeker after all - if you can show me how to make such a wonderful dress, you hear?” She gave her little sister headpatt, before turning to her new companion, who didn’t even look at Isabelle. “I will write you a message when i have some time, okay? Bye~”

Isabelle however was at loss of words. What exactly did happen right now? Everything went so fast and had been sooo strange! It felt so wrong, so incredibly wrong! Why could her sister use magic? Not like she wouldn’t allow it, of course not! But somehow, she couldn’t be happy about it, either, although she knew she should. And also… why did that strange man, Edward, didn’t look at her? Well, not like she wanted people to look, but… she knew that most of the men couldn’t resist to take a glimpse of her, even if it was only for her face. But he… straight up ignored her. He felt like a zombie! Did… did her sister charm him? Isabelle had read about some charming spells, although she didn’t know why people used them. You couldn’t get true love from them, no way! And it was mean, too! But her sister… she wouldn’t use a charm spell! ...would she?

But… after her sister had left, Isabelle realised another thing. Iana seemed to be a bit… different than the last time she met her. Her hair was shinier, her skin smoother, her lips fuller. She also seemed to be a bit bigger, as well as her boobs? Isabelle wasn’t sure, but it felt so wrong, so extremely wrong. With all that in mind, she was only able to say an abashed “Eh, bye, Iana…”, before her sister left. Heavily thinking about everything that happened, Isabelle wandered back to the pier, so she could get back home.

---

The door of the free companies house felt heavier than this morning, but maybe it was just her imagination. Maybe she was just a bit tired. Also, her back ached heavily. She would need to train waaay harder now, if she wanted to live on without magic.

“Oh, who is there?”, asked the motherly voice of Azura from the couch nearby fireplace, who had been reading there. She stood up to see the guest, until she saw the strange looking Miqo’te. She seemed so familiar, but she couldn’t help herself. “And you ar- Oh, Isa, it’s you!” Again, Azura took a more careful look at the little cat. Yes, those red streaks in her hair, this was Isabelles red, without a doubt. And those eyes, of course, why didn’t she notice them earlier? And, well… her chest spoke for itself.

“You, eh… you changed”, she commented the new look of Isabelle, not quite sure what to think about it. She appeared to be happy and everything, but something was… wrong. She smiled, yes, but… only with her mouth, while the rest of her just… didn’t, in contrast to her usual behaviour. “Mhm!”, Isabelle nodded proudly. “I also met with my siiis today! She was also veeery proud of me!” - “Oh, is that so? How nice”, Azura commented, still not sure about the behaviour of the young woman in front of her. Was she happy? Or in pain? She couldn’t tell, and it worried her.

“And… and she told me, that i am nearly a truuue Birdseeker now! And that’s wooonderfull! ...isn’t it?” The last words came a little late, and where so quiet, so soft, so full of doubt. She wasn’t even sure herself. Azura was certain now. As if this little one would abandon everything she loved just like that and could be happy without it! “Oh Isa”, she said with a warm smile. “You have always been a true Birdseeker. Our true Birdseeker. That’s what the stars on your cheek stand for, if i remember correctly. At least, that’s what you told me about them when i asked you about those stars a while ago, didn’t you? You don’t have to change yourself, just because you think you are not worthy, or because someone else told you so. We all love you the way you were, the way you are, even if some people keep complaining about this or that. We have all our own flaws, and thats okay. And, to be honest, i would miss the real Isa. The little red cat, who loves magic and keeps running around and everything.”

While speaking Azura noticed, who tears where building up in the cute face of the little cat, and as soon as she tried to dry them with her sleeves, Isabelle started to cry painfully, before her head bumped into Azuras chest, with her arms wrapped around the motherly woman. She cried and cried, while mumbling some words. “Ijustwantedhertobeproudjusttobeproudandnowshecanusemagictooandimnotallowedtoandimissitsososomuchandimissmyredhairandmybackhurtssomuchandeverythingfeelssowrongandidontknowwhattodooooo!”, she cried. So many words, in such a short amount of time. How could someone be so cruel to her own sister, Azura wondered. How could she break the little heart of this precious little girl?

“It’s okay, Isa, it’s okay. Everything is okay. Just cry, i am here.” With her hand, she stroked through the now blond hair of the little Miqo’te, again and again, until she had an idea. “What do you think, shall we go to the bathroom and get rid of this dye?” Isabelle just nodded, while sniveling a few times. “Okay, then come with me. I will take care of it, trust me.”

A few minutes later, both of them were sitting in the shower, trying to get rid of the dye. Isabelle had calmed down a bit, but still sniveled every now and then. It would take her a while, that was for sure, but… this was now more important than anything for Azura. “Well, Isa…”, Azura broke through the silent splashing of the shower. “That dress… you made it yourself didn’t you? Do you want to tell me how you did that? And later, we could go an see the children, okay?” Isabelle nodded, thankful for everything the elezen did for her, and started talking, without a break. But Azura didn’t mind. At least, Isabelle was getting better, and that was the most important thing now.

((If you want to know how the story continues, click here~))

[kairibee]

okie okie if you haven’t gotten it yet and are feeling up to it, some RokuShi? ;p

of course!!

🙂   

who hogs the duvet i feel like xion would hog the duvet because she tosses and turns a lot in her sleep. roxas would wake up freezing but then see her smiling, looking super peaceful, and decide to cuddle up closer to her!

who texts/rings to check how their day is going ooh xion would send roxas pictures of cute things she sees throughout the day (like kitties, puppies, pretty seashells) and text him “wish you could see this!! how’s your day going?”

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts they are both extremely thoughtful but xion really takes her time putting together special gifts for roxas! she learns from kairi how to craft a charm of thalassa shells together for roxas, and also asks namine to help her draw pictures for him!!

who gets up first in the morning hmm i’m gunna say xion. after everything she’s been through, she deeply treasures every single second of her life. she wants to wake up early each day!

who suggests new things in bed they’re too young and pure :( i don’t want to answer.

who cries at movies xion cries, especially when an animal dies.

who gives unprompted massages roxas gives xion massages after she has a long day!

who fusses over the other when they’re sick roxas fusses over xion when she gets sick and tells her she shouldn’t have pushed herself too hard. he makes sure she stays in bed and brings her soup and spends time with her. he usually gets sick as soon she gets better!

who gets jealous easiest hmmm i’m going to say roxas. when other boys give her attention, he feels very protective. 

who has the most embarrassing taste in music oooh roxas likes the cheesy angsty music. 

who collects something unusual roxas likes to collect everyone’s ice cream sticks!! lmao

who takes the longest to get ready i feel like xion often wakes up with bed-head and it takes her a bit longer to get ready. also, have you seen how stylish she is? she likes to look and feel good and that takes a bit of time.

who is the most tidy and organised hmmm, i see neither of them being particularly tidy or organized. axel is also messy. isa has to clean up after all of them lmao.

who gets most excited about the holidays xion gets super excited about halloween and takes a long time to decide what she wants to dress up as!! it has to be perfect :)

who is the big spoon/little spoon they change it up! xion likes to be the big spoon when roxas is feeling down, and she likes being the little spoon when she’s feeling scared or upset.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports roxas gets really competitive with hayner and axel!!

who starts the most arguments i can’t see them arguing very often but i feel like roxas would get frustrated with xion when she pushes herself too hard! he’s very protective of her.

who suggests that they buy a pet uh xion suggests that they adopt pluto lmao.

what couple traditions they have obviously eating sea salt ice cream and watching the sunset together but they also like visiting the disney worlds they once visited together on missions for the organization. this time, they just sight-see and spend time together! no missions, no goals, just spending relaxing time together!

what tv shows they watch together oooh they like watching horror shows and movies with lea and isa!! lea can’t handle them lmao.

what other couple they hang out with lea and isa, and sora and kairi!

how they spend time together as a couple eating sea salt ice cream together, spending time with lea and isa, going on escapades with the twilight town trio, getting into fights with seifer and his gang, making munny by doing odd jobs, and going to the beach a lot!!

who made the first move oooh this is a hard one!! i feel like xion’s a bit oblivious so it’s roxas who finally tells her that he likes her romantically. olette is the one to help roxas plan a special romantic moment together with her! she wing-womans the hell out of them :)

who brings flowers home roxas would bring xion shions ❤️

who is the best cook roxas is better!! xion is a terrible cook but roxas would eat her food anyway just to make her happy.

[akusaitrash]

(via https://open.spotify.com/user/11159479487/playlist/7tslecoGldcfDBEZSG6iVO?si=B1NUTGw_ROmJj0doknAMjQ)

Full Moon Life

an Akusai/Leaisa playlist from Isa’s POV

***Click Read More for associated fic***

We Are Golden - Mika

“Teenage dreams in a teenage circus Running around like a clown on purpose Who gives a damn about the family you come from? No giving up when you’re young and you want some.”

Isa and Lea were two of many kids in Radiant Garden, spending their days together lazing around the town square. Their minds full of questions, their hearts full of potential. When Isa was morose, Lea was always there to cheer him up. When Lea struggled with school work, Isa would help him through. They were close... Isa hoped they’d be closer than friends someday. They kissed once, and it was good. Anything could happen.

“Now I'm sitting alone,I'm finally looking around Left here on my own, I'm gonna hurt myself Maybe losing my mind,I'm still wondering why Had to let the world let it bleed me dry”

A Forest - The Cure

“Come closer and see, See into the trees Find the girl if you can. Come closer and see, See into the dark Just follow your eyes, Just follow your eyes.”

The house on the edge of town was a strange place. Nobody knew what happened there, but everyone kept away. One day, just for fun, Isa and Lea climbed the crumbling walls and broke into the house. In a room full of strange machines, the two of them made friends with a girl. She seemed to be stuck there, she wanted to leave. The boys were caught and tossed out, but they made plans and broke into the house again. This time, she was gone... and they were caught too. Isa never forgot her. Yet, he never saw her again.

“The girl was never there It's always the same I'm running towards nothing Again and again and again and again”

Home - Mae 

“But now I'm fighting in the thick of it,  And feeling so alone I take a chance, just one more chance To get me anywhere” 

They were settling down into a routine as apprentices to Ansem the Wise when suddenly, everything changed. One evening, they arrived at the old house after school and Ansem the Wise was gone. His successor, a young man with golden eyes and a dangerous smile, gave a short, confusing explanation about what would happen to them all going forward. Isa was as smart as any of the adults in the room, but... Death? He didn’t understand. He glanced out the window at the full moon and knew he needed to go. He grabbed Lea’s hand and tried to run, but Lea tripped over a chair and fell. “Get out, Isa!” Lea had screamed, but Isa didn’t let go of him for a second. Isa’s fingers desperately grabbed the door handle. He had one second to realise the door was locked before Xehanort bore down upon him. Everyone in the house died... And rose again as Nobodies. 

“And now I'm running, I'm moving too fast So here we go (ohh) And where I'm headed to, it's nobody's guess So here we go (ohh)”

Give Me It - The Cure

“Get away from me Get your fingers out of my face This room's so hot, This room's so hot I break the walls”

Saix. Isa’s new name. Xemnas had renamed him along with the others the previous day, when they had all risen again. Anyway, Saix stood in the strange, impossible-feeling space at the top of the sterile white building where they had all been taken. Xemnas stood before him, a displeased expression on his face; he had asked for Lea to come, calling him by his new name, Axel. Yet, here was Saix, the smarter of the two. “Saix. Where is Axel?” he asked.

A picture of Lea’s face, red from crying, filled Isa’s mind. Lea’s voice had whispered, “He’s gonna get rid of me, like that girl.” His hands on Isa’s shoulders shook like leaves, yet his fingers had pressed in so hard they hurt.  Isa knew then what he had to do to keep Lea safe... and perhaps to find their hearts. Maybe even their lost friend.

“I’d make a better test subject than him,” said Isa - no, Saix. “I’m smarter. I’d be able to help you more. You don’t want a meathead for a vessel. He doesn’t understand. He can be useful in other ways.”

Xemnas nodded. “I’m surprised you understand what a vessel is. Very well, if you volunteer...” He walked up to the boy, pulling a knife from his robes. “Close your eyes.”

Saix stood, resolute. Though he has been assured he could no longer feel, he was sure he was doing the right thing. 

Then, the pain hit and his mind twisted, and he suddenly, horribly, knew what being a vessel meant. Turns out, he hadn’t truly understood at all.

“Give me it give me it give me it Make me blind One step back and one step down And slip the needles in my side.” 

Lay Down - Caravan Palace  

“I get sick and I can't get to heaven Oh, my soul is bound, can't be And I get sick and I can't get to heaven Oh, my soul is bound for hell”

Saix woke up, and he knew who he was. He also knew what was in him. “You’re awake!” shouted a familiar voice. Lea? No. Axel’s hand was in his. Saix turned his face to look at Axel and saw the tear drops he had drawn on his face before going to see Xemnas were still easily visible. “What happened?” Axel asked. “He cut your face, Isa. What did he do to you?”

Isa sat up carefully. His face was on fire, but the worst pain was a more abstract one. Before, he had felt an absence inside. They had all seemingly lost something when they died - Their hearts, Xemnas had said. But now, Saix could feel that void was partially full. Full of what? Full of - 

He doubled over in pain, clutching his chest. Axel leapt to his feet shouting, but Saix could not hear him over the pain. What had been done to him? What was inside him? He needed to be alone. “I’ll be fine,” he hissed between gritted teeth. “Go get Xemnas, Axel.” 

Despite the use of his new name, Axel reacted instantly and ran from the room, shouting “Don’t die before I get back!” over his shoulder.

In the past, Isa would have called “Already dead!” after Lea. But Saix was in too much pain and needed to think. Xemnas owed him an explanation. What would he ask?

“Can't be nobody for to lay down Fall on my knees and begin Can't be nobody for to turn me out”

Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division 

“When routine bites hard, And ambitions are low And resentment rides high, But emotions won't grow And we're changing our ways, Taking different roads  Love, love will tear us apart again”

Over the years, as puberty continued and finished, Saix learned at Xemnas’s right hand. He saw Axel less and less as the flame-haired boy trained in other areas, becoming a truly formidable fighter. It would have hurt Isa to not spend time with Lea, but not having true feelings made things easier for Saix. As Xemnas relied on him more, he felt stronger. He knew he’d be able to eventually find out where to find that girl... He could barely remember her face, but she had become a project to him, and Saix ALWAYS completed his projects.

For a few years, every night he made sure to draw the inverted triangles under Axel’s eyes for him. One night, Axel sat up at the end of it all and mumbled something about “never crying again” before kissing Saix. Saix knew he couldn’t really feel, but what was left of Isa in him was desperate to kiss more.

The triangles were fresh on Axel’s face, but Saix kissed them off that night even though part of his mind told him he shouldn’t, that it wouldn’t end well, that things had changed too much for this to be a good idea now. Given the chance to kiss Lea, Isa would choose it every time. Just hearing Axel moan “Isa” gave Saix a physical thrill like nothing else could.

“Love, love will tear us apart again Love, love will tear us apart again”

Cut - The Cure

“If only you'd never speak to me the way that you do If only you'd never speak like that, it's like listening to A breaking heart, A falling sky Fire go out and friendship die. I wish you felt the way that I still do.”

Their first time was desperate, inevitable, and awkward. Around a week later, they had gotten better at it. They had a few good years of hard work every day in their separate spheres and nights together before things changed. 

Saix thought that Axel, with his incredible prowess and perceived loyalty, would be the perfect guardian to Roxas, the newest member of Organization 13. For the same reason, he sent Axel to Castle Oblivion to take care of an internal dispute among the Organization’s members. Axel wouldn’t question, Axel wouldn’t question - Until he did.

Castle Oblivion was a disaster. Over a few weeks, Saix found their situation changed. Axel stopped seeking him out and began to complain in a serious way about Saix entering his room. Saix tried to give him space, but that only seemed to make things worse. Soon, they were exchanging curt words in hallways and only visiting each other when physically desperate. 

And all that time he wasn’t spending with Saix any more? Axel spent it with Roxas and that replica keyblade wielder Vexen made and named Xion. Saix would hear their laughter down hallways and from the common areas. He grew colder still, throwing himself into his work for Xemnas. It didn’t matter. He had things to do. Did Axel look hurt when Saix snapped at him or told him off? Good. Familiarity could only lead to more pain now. There would be time to fix things later. Now, with the keyblade wielders around, there was nothing but work to do. 

“If only you'd never look at me,The way that you do If only you'd never look like that when I look at you I see face like stone, Eyes of ice Mouth so sweetly telling lies, I wish you felt the way that I still do.”

Throat Full of Glass - Combichrist

“Like a disease, I'm always in the wrong And now the numbness wearing off Can't stand the pain. I get in line, I always do”

He’d never had such a lapse of judgement. If he’d had feelings, he’d be kicking himself. Wait - why would he be guilty of anything? Had he pushed Xion to run away to Castle Oblivion? No. Had he pushed Roxas to leave? No. Had he chased Axel away? Of course not. 

The three of them were gone, but had any of this ruined Xemnas’s plans? Not even! If anything, things were going better now the real keyblade wielder was back in action. That kid was easier to control than Roxas ever was. Thank goodness Roxas was gone. Saix knew he was doing a good job. Xemnas was happy. Kingdom Hearts was growing. Soon, it would be complete. And when it was complete... Nothing would matter any more, and Saix would be ready with Lunatic to put that keyblade wielder away for good. Roxas or Sora, it didn’t matter. That kid was trouble, and soon all troubles would be over. 

“Nothing left to break my rivals In a thousand pieces, million reasons Why should I keep myself away?”

Pictures of You - The Cure

“Remembering you fallen into my arms, Crying for the death of your heart You were stone white, so delicate, lost in the cold You were always so lost in the dark”

Saix never thought a keyblade would feel the way it did. It cut into his very essence, into his being, but pain? Where was the pain?

Isa would be screaming, but Isa was long gone. Soon, Saix would be gone too. As he tried desperately to hold his fading body up, all there was was numbness. Dying like this? He’d rather die like the first time, running with Lea’s hand in his own.

Lea? Where was Lea? Kingdom Hearts shone brightly overhead. The words tumbled from his lips. “Where is my heart?” His hand was empty as he crumpled to the ground and faded into nothing. 

“There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more Than to feel you deep in my heart. There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more Than to never feel the breaking apart All my pictures of you”

Night/Day - Mae

“There are things about me I just can't ignore I know I want to change when I see that door On the other side, daylight decides there will be war with sleeping in Oh, I know there'll be no more sleeping in, yeah”

Isa gained consciousness. He quickly opened his eyes and looked around himself. He was back in the house on the edge of Radiant Garden. The room was a mess of overturned furniture. The bodies of many people lay around him; it was the other people who had worked here, who had been part of Organization 13. And if they were here...

Lea! Lea’s body lay prone nearby. Isa dragged himself to Lea, resting his head on his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief; he could hear Lea’s heart beating. Good, he was alive. Perhaps he could drag the taller man out to safety. Surely he could be happy to see... Wait. No. In horror, Isa recoiled from Lea, a wave of disgust hitting him. What had he done? Isa was painfully aware of what Saix - no, he himself, had done. How would Lea forgive him for all that?

Then, footsteps. Braig. Isa was pulled to his feet. “You’re coming with me,” said the taller, stronger man. “Sorry, but Xemnas needs his vessels.”

For a moment, Isa felt desperation and the will to fight rise in him.Then, a cold anger descended. It was a comfortable feeling; Isa recognized it as how Saix had felt for a very long time. Saix had felt? Well, he must have. Anyway, this feeling was familiar. He almost felt himself smile. He could feel a plan beginning to stir in his mind. If he played his cards right, he could perhaps swing this messy situation to his advantage. Saix... Isa... Perhaps there wasn’t that much difference after all. And if there wasn’t, what was losing his heart once more going to mean as long as he could make things right? “Unhand me,” he said to Braig, his voice calm and icy as usual. “I understand, I’ll go with you. Let’s go before these useless ones wake up.”

Inside, he began to think hard.

“I've been putting off this purification A rebirth and regeneration inside of me And I've been saying no for far too long Even though something brand new is coming out of me.”

Everything + Where there is Light - VNV Nation

“Don't tell me it's the end of everything It always seems the darkest before the light So fragile and breaking apart Finding solace in the knowledge of what's right All that's holy, sacred and divine Guarding over all within its sight”

Guardian... That was what Lea apparently wanted to be now. Saix, or Isa, whatever, was amused. Of course Lea would want to be a keyblade wielder. Isa felt Lea would probably be quite good at it.

While Lea was busy out there, Isa was hard at work in the shadows. He and Vexen, whom he had re-recruited, brought the puppet Xion back to life together. Then, Vexen began to work on a replica body for Roxas while Isa trained the puppet - kindly, at that. This time, Lea wasn’t an obstacle between them, since both he and the puppet were working for the same end. In getting to know her, he came to think of her of a person in her own right. 

They worked very hard together, since Isa knew Lea was working hard too and the two of them would have to be better fighters than Lea to succeed. Finally, Isa found himself around the corner of the clock tower, where he knew Lea was. Xion had encouraged him to see Lea once before the final outcome of all their work was decided; what would he say? A long speech he was composing in his head was interrupted when Lea sighed deeply and mumbled to himself, causing Isa to notice the extra ice creams in his hand. It had been a long time since Isa had had ice cream. 

“Can you see the light As far as the eyes can see From this point above the world Where mortals dare their destiny As it radiates May I witness open-eyed Let me remain where there is light”

Gilgamesh - Gypsy and the Cat

“I feel the light, it cuts my face, I'm staring at the wall It won't be long til' we embrace, I'm knocking on your wall”

Isa welcomed the feeling of the keyblade plunging into his body. It cut into him and he fell with a grunt. The feeling of this existence fading was as unpleasant as it had been the first time, but when he looked up at Lea’s face, he felt calm. He didn’t know that Xion had started to tear up and that Roxas only half-understood what had happened, all he could do was look up at Lea and feel glad that this time, he’d not die alone or scared with Lea’s hand in his. This time Lea’s arms were both wrapped around him. His head leaned against Lea’s chest. He could smell Lea’s sweat, feel the warmth of his body, hear his heart pounding in his chest. Perhaps everything wasn’t forgiven yet, but it would be soon. Time to let go. 

“See you, Isa.”

“See you, Lea.”

“If I die, please don't cry I'll be there, by your side If I die, please don't cry I'll be there, inside your arms”

The Sun and Moon - Mae 

“Wasted time... I cannot say that I was ready for this, but When worlds collide, And all that I have is all that I want, The words seem to flow and the thoughts, they keep running, And all that I have is yours; All that I am is yours.”

Isa looked out over the sea. “Well, we’re going to need a new frisbee,” he said. 

Lea ruffled Ventus’s hair. “You have a throwing arm and a half on you, buddy,” he said, laughing. “Better than mine, haha. Hey, why don’t you go catch up with the others and see how the barbecue is going?”

As Ventus ran off to where Xion and Roxas were trying to light a barbecue, Lea wandered over to Isa and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Are you ok?” he asked.

“Never been better,” replied Isa. He pulled the frisbee out of his coat and tossed it aside. “But I wanted a moment with you.”

Lea grinned at him, stepping to face him. “Hey! That was pretty sneaky,” he scolded gently. 

Isa smiled back. “You know what they say. Once a villain...”

He didn’t finish his sentence before Lea’s mouth found his. Isa’s eyes closed and the words slipped away. This was all he had ever wanted. He was finally at peace.

“Painted skies... I've seen so many that cannot compare to Your ocean eyes. The pictures you took that cover your room, And it was just like the sun, but more like the moon -- A light that can reach it all -- So now I'm branded for taking the fall.

So when you say, "forever, " Can't you see?...You've already captured me.”