#but I'm posting it anyway for Irazor's sake ;)

[nofeartina]

Your presence still lingers here - Part 5

[Part 1]  [Part 2]  [Part 3]  [Part 4]

Sunday afternoons. 

Even's always thought they were a bit magical. It doesn't matter if it's because he's spending this one on Isak's couch, his head in his lap as Isak idly strokes his hair. Or if they're out walking, holding hands, the novelty of being able to do that making Even giddy over and over again. Or when their dinner is bubbling on the stove, tendering the meat and vegetables into something Even already knows will make Isak moan in pleasure. 

He likes it when Isak moans in pleasure. 

"I can't believe you're making me watch a western," Isak complains.

Even even likes it when Isak's complaining. 

"Shh, you're missing the best part." 

"Ugh, John Wayne. Is he really the best part?" 

Even just shushes him again and hides his smile in Isak's thigh. 

"He's the epitome of machismo - shoot the Indians and get the woman." 

"Yeah, but that's kind of the amusing part, in real life most of the cowboys were gay. Guess Hollywood missed that part." 

Isak huffs out a laugh, pulls playfully at Even's hair. "You say that like it’s something you know."

"I do know. It's so weird how history changes things and has made cowboys into these machismo, as you call them, stereotypes." 

The hand in his hair stills, but Even doesn't really pay attention to it, too busy mouthing along to the next lines to notice much else.

In hindsight, he really wishes he had paid attention to it. 

--||--

Another Sunday afternoon. Everything is so hot, the sweat covering their skin easing the slide of their bodies against each other.

“You always feel so good,” Even whispers into the narrow space between their mouths. He’s overwhelmed by how tight and warm and wet Isak is inside, how accommodating. How he looks at Even during, eyes half-lidded and dark, lips swollen and mouth slack. He’s like sin incarnate. 

Even feels sure that this is what all those religious people throughout time meant when they said sin corrupts. 

Even certainly feels corrupted by Isak.

“Even,” Isak sighs, lips so close that Even can taste his breath on his tongue.

He just wants this, wants to keep them, keep Isak, forever. The inevitability of the outcome of their affair threatens to take him out of the moment and Even fights it, pushes deeper, harder, takes hold of Isak’s leg to spread him more, to make it easier for him to bury himself so deep inside that his mind stops working.

“Even,” Isak says again, hand stroking over Even’s cheek, thumb brushing over his lips, pulling him down until his lips are covering Even’s.

Isak’s mouth manages to do what his body didn’t - distracts him enough that Even can refocus back on the moment, can forget everything else but the burning need simmering under his skin.

And then it’s easy to just give himself over to it.

After, when it’s done and they’re still sweaty and filthy and wonderful, Even still lying half on top of Isak, too lazy to move or do anything but lie here. Isak’s hand is drawing a trail on Even’s skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, making Even feel so good that he’s practically purring. That’s when Isak makes his move.

“Even?” he asks, hesitant and shaky, like he’s gearing up to ask Even something that he knows he won’t like.

Even tenses, can’t help it. But he still hmms, letting Isak know that he can continue.

“I-- I don’t know how to ask you this.”

Even hmms again, pulls Isak closer, savoring as much as possible while he still can.

“Is something wrong?” Isak finally asks.

Even is pretty sure that that’s not really what Isak wants to ask him, Isak is smart and Even hasn’t been as careful as he should’ve been. But Even would rather have this question over anything else.

“No,” he says, tips his head so he can look up at Isak. Isak is already looking down at him, like he was waiting for Even to catch up.

“It’s just-- you seem so sad sometimes. Right in the middle of things, like right now while we were having sex. It’s like I’m... losing you.”

Isak is smart. More intuitive than Even has given him credit for, it would seem.

Even gets up on his elbow, smooths his hand over Isak’s cheek and looks him in the eye.

Isak is right of course. He is losing him. Like Even is losing him. Slowly, day by day, hour by hour, second by second they’re creeping closer to the inescapable end. Another death, another love lost. This one improbably more painful than most others, this one sure to stay with Even for a long, long time. Longer than he wants to think about right now.

He leans in, kisses Isak, gently, lovingly, closes his eyes and wishes for it to be different. That he would be able to share his secrets with Isak and ask him to stay with him forever. But he can’t. He can’t. He could never be that selfish.

“Isak,” he whispers, enjoys how the name fits in his mouth, tastes on his tongue. Revels in how it still makes him feel happy and whole when he knows there’ll be a time where uttering that name alone will fill him with pain and grief. “I love you.”

Isak whimpers, pulls Even closer, wraps himself around Even like that act alone could remove Even’s sadness.

“I love you too,” Isak whispers back and Even could cry. Knows that he’s going to spend the rest of eternity equally elated and shamed by those words.

So he pulls Isak tighter, closer and closer and closer, until it’s almost like they’re one.

And then he whispers, “I’ll love you forever.”

No promise has ever been easier to make and there’s no doubt in his mind that he’ll keep it.

He’ll never forget Isak.