#and then i foudn that lady again she wanted my help with something.......... what the fuck....... maam im happy 2 help you

[p2ep]

whenever someone says my name to me it lowkey freaks me out like ?!?!?! thats me????. like lowkey terrifying... i get this effect when close friends say my name so like.. its kinda physically painful when customers say my name?? like what the fuck how do you know my name thats so personal 

[daigina-3]

Juliet and His Romeo

His only break of the day and Isak couldn’t believe he was stuck here. If it weren’t for fucking Sana holding Madhi’s weed over his head, or his stupid ass, shoving it down the first candy jar he spotted in Eva’s house- or even fucking Vilde for thinking it would be a good idea to start a revue group, Isak could be chillin’ in the cafeteria or the courtyard with his bros.

But instead he was here, in Nissen’s theater. Adjusting fake, plastic leaves that made up fake, plastic vines wrapping around the base of a fake tower made of plaster and wood.  

No wonder Sana had to blackmail people to join. Vilde was a nightmare as a director.

They met weeks before the other performances were even decided. As soon as Isak had shown up to the first revue meeting three weeks ago, Vilde had handed him a script and explained that they were doing Romeo and Juliet. She said they were doing it because it was a classic love story. Isak thinks it’s because they already had the balcony and costumes in the props room. But whatever.

The first week was auditions and stage hand sign ups. Vilde had almost bullied him into being Mercutio, because “you’d be perfect for it Isak,” but thank God he had wriggled his way out of that one and took a spot on the stage crew at the last second, meaning he didn’t have to attend the following two weeks of torture- stage hands weren’t needed for read-throughs.

That also meant that Sana withheld the weed from him even longer, claiming that he wouldn’t get it back until she knew he would take his job seriously.

The things he did for his friends.

So it was week three and Vilde wanted the tower decorated already, and Sana decided taking his job seriously meant forfeiting his social life to get it done before the next rehearsal.

Isak sighed, looking at the rough sketch Sana gave him, realizing he’d have to climb up the back of the tower and stand on the balcony to actually place the vines and flowers up there. So, he gathered the power stapler, the rest of the foliage, and the picture and headed up the questionably constructed wooden steps from behind the tower.

He got to it, placing and adjusting and stapling the vines and flowers just like the picture. Part of the way through, just when Isak thought he might jump off in boredom, he popped one earbud in and turned on his favorite playlist.

He was halfway through his favorite N.W.A song, rapping along, moving a bit more freely the more he got into it. He picked up a stray hydrangea and used it as a faux mic, bobbing his head and rapping,

“I’m in control of your mind and soul Don’t be afraid, just bust the moves,”

He stapled the hydrangea in place and a few strings of vines, draping them just so, even daring to move his feet and hips to the beat as he worked.

“So out your home, you’re on your own in the land of the unknown”

He was full-on bobbing at this point, his shoulders and his whole body moving in time as he laid down the rhymes along with the vines.

“It’s the dark side, the dirty-side It’s called-”

“Halla?” A voice rang out from below him and Isak jumped, dropping the flower in his hand, ripping the earbud out in the process.

“Shit,” he swore. That fucking hurt. He looked down to see who had caught him and how much he’d have to pay for their silence and- oh. Oh no.

It’s called the Panic Zone.

And shit, was Isak panicking- because bellow him stood Even, who picked up the flower Isak dropped, who was the lead in Vilde’s stupid play, who had just caught him rapping and dancing and maybe even singing into that flower… God, how long had he been there? Isak felt his stomach go tight in embarrassment and his face heat up.

“Halla,” Even said again, smiling from the base of the balcony, where he stood.

“Uh, hey,” Isak answered, not really sure what to do. “Just, um, setting up stuff.” He picked up another vine and placed it down, very much not looking in Even’s direction, trying to look unaffected.

“I can see that,” and Isak could hear the smile in his voice. Fuck, the last thing he needed was for Even, the cool, hot guy who was the leading man for fucks sake to be making fun of him right now. Or tell anyone what he saw later. Isak was really re-thinking that whole jumping off the tower thing right now. Maybe Sana would pity him and just give the weed back if he broke his limbs helping Vilde out, who knew?

“Do you mind if I practice in here? I came to run lines for tonight’s practice,” Even called up. Isak snuck a glance at him, only to find Even staring intensely, too intensely, his hands tucked in his back pockets and his blue eyes all but drilling into Isak.

Or maybe that was his imagination.

When Isak met his gaze, he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Uh, yeah, whatever, dude. That’s cool.”

“Cool.” Even shrugged off his backpack and dug around for a bit, produced his script, then began pacing.

Isak went back to work as Even’s deep voice rang through the theater.

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east and Juliet is the sun!”

And oh, he was rehearsing those lines. And Isak wouldn’t care normally, but as Even continued Isak couldn’t help but think back to the first day of rehearsal, the auditions where he had first seen Even up close, had watched Even run this exact monologue. He had been so moved by Even’s quiet passion, apparent even through the archaic language, that he hadn’t taken his eyes off him the rest of practice.

And when he overheard Even mentioning to Eva that Baz Lurhmann’s Romeo + Juliet was his favorite adaption of the tragic love story, he may or may not have immediately downloaded it when he got home.

(and he may or may not have definitely cried a little.)

“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.”

Isak was only keeping up an appearance of working at this point, stapler and vines in hand, but he was pretty sure he had stapled the same place four times so far. He just had such a good vantage point- he had never seen Even so up close before, only daring to sneak glances from across the room, looking away every time he got caught staring. And he must have had really shit timing because Even seemed to always catch him staring. Now he had a front row seat.

And Even was so expressive- his whole face was thrown into the performance, his eyebrows drawn in and a small smile on his face. And usually Isak thought this whole poetry and verse stuff sounded so fake and corny but Even’s words sounded so sincere- low and passionate, adoring and a little playful- like Juliet was really there, like Even was really trying too woo this girl.

“Be not her maid since she is envious.                                                           

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,                                       ��                  

And none but fools do wear it.”

Even looked up and met Isak’s eyes. Every other time Isak had been caught staring he’d looked away, foudn any excuse to leave or try and pretend nothing had happened. But this time he held his gaze, looking down at Even.

Even was still rehearsing, as in it as ever, but something was a little different about his face, his demeanor as he looked up at Isak now. Something changed- a mischevious look, maybe, as he raised his eyebrows and quirked his lips, almost deviously.  

“Cast it off!”

And then Even was moving, he was propelling himself forward and before Isak could really register it- Even was finding footholds in the plaster bricks, sticking out from the tower and was he trying to climb up here?

“It is my lady, it is my love!”                                                                                  

He looked at Isak, who was speechless as he watched Even go, grasping at the flimsy plaster bricks that were jutting out from the tower and heave himself up. Isak told himself he was imagining the look on his face, the adoration, determination, the glee- but the hopefull little voice in the back of his head said this is for you. But that would be ridiculous- wouldn’t it?

”Oh, that she knew she were.”

Even broke eye contact only to search for more purchase on the tower.

Isak didn’t know what to do- what the fuck was happening?

“E-Even, what the hell?” He dropped the stapler and vines he had been holding and they fell at his feet with a thud. “Dude, you’re- you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Even only smiled more in answer, fond and warm, like he was in on a joke Isak just didn’t get. He went on, his voice straining with the effort of lifting his own weight as he spoke.

“She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?                                        

Her eye discourses. I will answer it.—”

Isak moved back as Even’s hand reached for the edge of the balcony, and he hoisted himself up so he was supported by his arms, the tips of his toes pressed into the tower to provide stability. He was only slightly out of breath as he said,

“I am too bold.”

And man, was he close. Isak had backed up, but now they were only a foot or two apart, and Even was still looking at him like that, unwavering in his… Whatever it was. Isak could feel the heat in his cheeks, probably bright pink by this point.

“’Tis not to me she speaks                                                                                   

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,                                                 

 Having some business, do entreat her eyes                                                   

To twinkle in their spheres till they return.”

Maybe Even was making fun of him? Maybe he had been caught staring one too many times or maybe Even just took a sick kind of pleasure in fucking with Isak, seeing him flustered.

And man was it working. Isak’s heart was hammering in his chest. He thought he might stop breathing right then and there as Even pulled his whole body up, clambering over the railing and onto the small balcony floor, even closer to Isak now and inching even more so.

“What if her eyes were there, they in her head?                                            

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars “

His voice was soft and impossibly intimate.

Isak was frozen this whole time, he couldn’t believe this was happening, was waiting to wake up or for Even to start laughing, to say oh, man, you should have seen your face! Waiting for some sign that this was a joke or a dream because there was no way Even was standing a breath away from him, looking into his eyes like a man possessed and reciting Shakespear to him.

Even raised his hand, slow and deliberate, maybe in case Isak would stop him- as if.

Even’s fingers brushed Isak’s cheek, so lightly, and Even was whispering now, low and breathy, his eyes still glued to Isak’s, searching, searching for something.

“Oh, that I might touch that cheek.”

And Isak almost didn’t feel real as he said, “I…uh,” he swallowed, licked his lips, and Even raised his eyebrows, looking so beautiful- God, and still so close…

“I think you skipped some lines,” Isak whispered- anything louder would break this moment, this magic in the atmosphere, and the last thing Isak wanted was for the warmth of Even’s hand, cupping Isak’s cheek, his thumb softly stroking the edge of his jaw, to disappear. Isak licked his lips again and he definitely didn’t miss Even’s eyes move down for a long second, following the movement before meeting Isak’s own again.

“I think,” he answered, still incredibly breathy and low and God so close, “You’re right. Maybe, uhm, you could help me practice?”

Isak didn’t answer him. “You could have hurt yourself. This thing is old, and not sturdy at all.” He tried to put some playful admonishment in the words, but it came out as more of a stunned whisper. Which was probably what Isak was right now, stunned.

Even smiled and Isak felt the air from his soft, breathy laughter his face. Even almost had him backed up against the frame of the balcony arch, and Isak felt the strange urge to put his hands on Even’s waist.

“Alack, there lies more peril in thine eyes,” Even breathed, “Isak…” he drew his name out like he loved saying, and, fuck, fuck, Isak loved hearing him say it.

“Even,” Isak returned when Even didn’t continue. He knew he was staring at his lips, try as he might to keep his eyes on Even’s.

“Could you help me with this one line- I can never remember how it goes,” He was still moving his thumb along Isak’s jaw.

What?

“Uh,” Isak swallowed, and he’s so close to Even, he doesn’t want to play this game anymore he just wants to kiss him, feel their lips meet like he’s thought about, dreamed about, so many times. But he just can’t risk ruining this, being lost in Even’s eyes, the warmth of his hand on his cheek

“Su- sure, yeah. What is it?”

“Act one, scene five,” Even said and his other hand came up and then he was cupping Isak’s face in his hands. “Romeo and Juliet are dancing- and Romeo says then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take. What comes after?”

“I, I don’t know,” Isak answered and he doesn’t, but god he knew what he wanted to happen.

Even’s body moved to press into Isak’s just slightly, just enough, and his face becomes closer, too, so fucking close. Isak couldn’t stop thinking bout the distance, the lack of it.

“Ah, I remember now,” Even’s eyebrows drew down, as though he was thinking very hard, concentrating.

“What is it?” Isak asked, his voice barely there and God, how long have they been here, how long has this been happening? It feels like forever, like they’ve been in each other’s orbits for years and they’ll never break free enough to collide-

“They kiss,” Even said and suddenly it happened. His lips were on Isak’s, Isak’s lips were on his, and Isak’s arms were wrapped around Even’s shoulders, he pulled him close, so close, he was so warm, and Isak felt like he was going to float away.

They kissed more than that, pulling away to breathe and smile and kiss some more, and this, Isak thought, was the best kiss. Better than any he’s had, better than any he’s dreamed of, better than any kiss on any stage, in any script, ever.

“You should help me more often,” Even said an eternity later, when they’ve sunk down to sit on the wooden floor of the stupid fake balcony, the wonderful fake balcony.

“Yeah,” Isak nodded, smiling and smiling, running his fingers through Even’s hair, “Yeah, I could do that.”