#in my sleeplessness I fucked this one up subtly but I think it adds to the charm

[barkhoffman]

PSA

[leviiattacks]

Could I request a Canon levi drabble? He realises he’s in love, confesses, then thinks about how he feels guilty for loving the reader

author note :: this was super quick but here u go !! i’m working on a long fic rn which is why it may not be great my brain hurts from all the writing i had to do for the fic 😞 ANYWAYS, shy levi ahead,,,, :-(

word count :: 1.2k

levi is super shy around you. he has no idea what to do, he has no idea what to say, he’s always stumbling over his words. it’s SO obvious that erwin and hange are able to decipher the meaning behind his unsual body language in a matter of seconds

might i add he’s always trying to subtly get your attention or at least look presentable

sometimes he leans against walls with one hand to look cool but one day he misses the wall completely and falls face first into a patch of mud

not a great experience because he sees you giggle at him

levi just ends up ignoring you and avoiding you a lot in an attempt to shake what he feels away but that’s another thing about levi when he’s in love. his infatuation is stubborn and unfading. unless given a valid reason to stop liking you he literally can’t force himself to stop how he feels

but sometimes there are opportunities where he does have to speak to you and despite avoiding you he finds himself surprisingly running into you more often than he thinks is humanely possible??

he’s in the kitchen making a cup of tea and suddenly you’re there to fetch some water.

he’s in the courtyard teaching some younger cadets and you happen to pass by looking for one of your blades you accidentally left behind

like he genuinely does not understand how he’s able to run into you this much because it makes no sense

apart from that he ends up taking a keen interest in your hobbies. he’ll try to understand why you enjoy specific things because the smile that paints your face is always so bright

you have this thing for strawberry jam and he’s never got why you enjoy it so much really ???

frankly he finds it to be so sweet to the point it’s sickening to digest

but that doesn’t stop him from buying some whilst in town and placing it in front of you one day

you look between levi and the jam jar a little confused

“you’ve been working hard and i accidentally bought this and i think you like strawberry jam so take it. i don’t want it.”

his explanation is UNBELIEVABLE because it’s a big fat lie but despite everyone else in the room being able to see through his facade you nod meekly and accept it with a grateful smile

after the jam incident everyone knows about how he has to feel but even if they do they don’t gossip about it when he’s around

now,,, levi is really in touch with how you feel because most of the time the way you feel impacts the way he feels. if he sees you laughing at dinner his mind is at ease but if your head is drooped downwards looking anywhere but up he makes a mental note to talk to you later

one day at dinner he sees jean whisper something in your ear and you laugh so hard you have to apologize to those around you for creating a disturbance

he burns in slight jealousy because he wants to know what’s so funny

that’s when his resolve starts slipping. he notices he’s stopped trying to ignore you and instead he’s gravitating towards you

and he hates it

vulnerability scares him so he stays away for a while until the next time you pull him in with your magnetic smile

once again, levi’s feelings are stubborn and unwavering.

he’s protective. always checking where you are in the formation. he can’t have any biases ruining expeditions so he never changes your position (despite wanting to on a number of occasions)

however, when the corps regroup he always looks around for a second ascertaining whether or not you’re in the vicinity and safe

one time he noticed you weren’t around and only relaxed when someone informed him you were with hange

he’s confusing when in love. hot and cold. left and right. dark and light. every move he makes he’ll make another that makes no sense. it’s because he’s never certain of what he feels. all he knows for certain is that he’s crashing hard and whatever is going on will end up in disaster if he doesn’t address it

it really does take him a long time to finally become mentally prepared enough to confess to you but he realises he has to push himself to do it otherwise he’ll only end up distracting himself and making a fatal mistake on the battlefield some day

he’s very nervous about it because he predicts you’ll reject him

“i’m interested in you.”

and when you don’t understand what he means by that he has to rephrase it a number of times before you do get it

“your actions concern me.” you still don’t get it

“i think we are jigsaw pieces.” again no nod of understanding from you, instead you ask him if he’s lost a puzzle piece and jokingly you suggest that sasha could have ate it

“if you were cold i would give you my jacket.” at that you say thank you but still don’t get what it is he means

he just doesn’t want to say it outright. he thinks it’ll be unbearably awkward.

but eventually he gives in and goes for it anyway

“fuck, what i’m trying to say is that i like you and i care for you...in a romantic way.”

he’s shocked when you beam, as cheerful as ever you say you like him back. he’s totally prepared for refusal so he just kinda stands there like a statue unsure with what he should do next

you take the lead moving to hold his hand with yours and when your fingers intertwine with his something in that moment makes levi feel whole. he feels full and happy.

from then on everything is smooth sailing, you and levi are happy but as the months pass and the tensions rise within paradis, levi’s guilt kicks in

he feels guilty for loving you and having the opportunity to have you love him back

there’s constantly a seed of worry in his stomach, it forever weighs him down and many of his sleepless nights are spent thinking about how he’ll have to let you go

after all, everyone he’s ever loved has had to face death’s door before him.

his fear gets the better of him and he even reaches the point of rehearsing what he plans to say to you in the case of a breakup

but this is levi we’re talking about and despite knowing you’re safer the further away you are from him he still latches onto you like a lost child

he thinks for once everything will be different. that you’re a positive sign. he chooses to have faith you make it out of this alive with him.

because although you could die you aren’t dead yet.

and that’s all that keeps his fiery hope steady.

he’s the candle and you’re his flickering flame of hope and for as long as he stands he vows he’ll keep you burning alive.

[garbagequeer]

hey hello im writing a piece for laptop ensemble that involves sampling and i need the most repressed/tender/yearning quotes you got. just as gay and heart wrenching as you can. but also no pressure I know youre a stranger on the web I just feel like you post that kind of stuff a lot thank you bye

hope this isnt like too late school keeps me busy :( (also can you put a read more on asks? guess i’ll find out). i ended up choosing many quotes from the same texts cause im indecisive as shit but i’ll bold my favorites from those in case that makes it easier for you!

anyways first of all you can never go wrong w richard siken as obvious as that is. these are both from you are jeff

You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.

Let’s say you’ve swallowed a bad thing and now it’s got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure. You see what I mean but you’re happy anyway, and that’s okay, it’s a love story 

this one’s from planet of love (the format got fucked bc tumblr is not actually a finctional website but :/ )

I have a megaphone and you play along,                                                                 because you want to die for love,                                                            you always have.     Imagine this:You’re pulling the car over. Somebody’s waiting.                      You’re going to die                                            in your best friend’s arms.             And you play along because it’s funny, because it’s written down,you’ve memorized it,

from litany in which certain things are crossed out 

I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you’re            really there.Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live?                                                       Let me do it right for once,

sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell                                    and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.            Especially that, but I should have known.You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together            to make a creature that will do what I sayor love me back.

We were inside the train car when I started to cry. You were crying too,            smiling and crying in a way that made meeven more hysterical. You said I could have anything I wanted, but I                                                                                just couldn’t say it out loud.Actually, you said Love, for you,                             is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s                                                                                                 terrifying. No one                                                                        will ever want to sleep with you.

from snow and dirty rain

I had a dream about you. We were in the gold roomwhere everyone finally gets what they want.

that scene from when harry met sally where sally says:

One day I was taking Alice’s little girl fro the afternoon. I’d promised to take her to the circus, and we were in a cab playing “I spy” - you know, “I spy a lamppost”, “I spy a mailbox” - and she looked out the window and there was this man and this woman with two little kids, and the man had one of the kids on his shoulders, and Alice’s little girl said “I spy a family”, and I satrted crying, you know? I just started crying, and I went home

(like anyone else sometimes cries when u see a family doing something nice? is it because i want to participate in a sense of family of my own but have been excluded as a gay person from it’s portrayals and it makes me go :^( cause i dont feel there’s room for me there but i want there to be and i just have to long for this nuclear family heteronormative way of life that i’ve been made to believe is idylic? is it because my parents got divorced and my dad’s an ass and my mom is just a very angry lady and i want to re-do my own childhood? who knows. should we ban movies? yes we should!)

from maurice (ultimate source of tender)

“There was something better in life than this rubbish, if only he could get to it, love, nobility, big spaces where passion clasped peace, spaces no science could reach, but they existed for ever, full of woods some of them, and arched with majestic sky and a friend”

‘Did you ever dream you had a friend, Alec? Nothing else but just “my friend”, he trying to help you and you him. A friend’ he repeated, sentimental suddenly. ‘Someone to last your whole life and you his. I suppose such a thing can’t really happen outside sleep’

we are all so lucky i don’t actually own maurice in english this would just turn into me quoting the whole book

ee cummings voices to voices, lip to lip

the thing perhaps isto eat flowers and not to be afraid.

from virgina woolf’s letters to vita

7 september 1925

january 21 1926 vita writes

I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this—But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it …

and on january 26 virginia writes back

Your letter from Trieste came this morning—But why do you think I don’t feel, or that I make phrases? ‘Lovely phrases’ you say which rob things of reality. Just the opposite. Always, always, always I try to say what I feel. Will you then believe that after you went last Tuesday—exactly a week ago—out I went into the slums of Bloomsbury, to find a barrel organ. But it did not make me cheerful … And ever since, nothing important has happened—Somehow its dull and damp. I have been dull; I have missed you. I do miss you. I shall miss you. And if you don’t believe it, you’re a longeared owl and ass. Lovely phrases? … 

from virginia’s diary, about vita on december 21 1925

I like her and being with her and the splendour–she shines in the grocer’s shop in Sevenoaks with a candle lit radiance, stalking on legs like beech trees, pink glowing, grape clustered, pearl hung.

from virginia woolf’s to the light house

What device for becoming, like waters poured into one jar, inextricably the same, one with the object one adored? Could the body achieve, or the mind, subtly mingling in the intricate passages of the brain? or the heart? Could loving, as people called it, make her and Mrs Ramsay one? for it was not knowledge but unity that she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge, she had thought, leaning her head on Mrs Ramsay’s knee. Nothing happened. Nothing! Nothing! as she leant her head against Mrs Ramsay’s knee. And yet, she knew knowledge and wisdom were stored up in Mrs Ramsay’s heart.

Love had a thousand shapes. There might be lovers whose gift it was to choose out the elements of things and place them together and so, giving them a wholeness not theirs in life, make of some scene, or meeting of people (all now gone and separate), one of those globed compacted things over which thought lingers, and love plays.

there forced themselves upon her other things, her own inadequacy, her insignificance, keeping house for her father off the Brompton Road, and had much ado to control her impulse to fling herself (thank Heaven she had always resisted so far) at Mrs Ramsay’s knee and say to her—but what could one say to her? “I’m in love with you?” No, that was not true. “I’m in love with this all,” waving her hand at the hedge, at the house, at the children. It was absurd, it was impossible 

(fun fact: the spanish translation adds something that i’d translate as “one could not say what one meant / what one wanted to say”, which i really like and i was disapointed to find out isnt on the english edition)

It was love, she thought, pretending to move her canvas, distilled and filtered; love that never attempted to clutch its object; but, like the love which mathematicians bear their symbols, or poets their phrases, was meant to be spread over the world and become part of the human gain. So it was indeed. The world by all means should have shared it  

from the great gatsby

I didn’t want to go to the city. I wasn’t worth a decent stroke of work but it was more than that—I didn’t want to leave Gatsby. I missed that train, and then another, before I could get myself away (…) Just before I reached the hedge I remembered something and turned around. ‘They’re a rotten crowd,’ I shouted across the lawn. ‘You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.’ I’ve always been glad I said that. It was the only compliment I ever gave him

from kafka’s diaries

may 27 1911: Today is your birthday, but I am not even sending you the usual book, for it would be only pretence; at bottom I am after all not in position to give you a book. I am writing only because it is so necessary for me today to be near you for a moment

parts from a from a letter he wrote to oskar pollak on february 4 1902

When we talk together the words are hard; we tread over them as if they were rough pavement. The most delicate things acquire awkward feet and we can’t help it. We’re almost in each other’s way; I bump into you and you - I don’t dare and you. When we come to things that are not exactly cobblestones or the Kunstwart, we suddenly see that we are in masquerade, acting with angular faces (especially me, I admit), and then we become sad and bored. Does anyone make you as bored as I do?

then I fall silent and you fall silent and you become bored, and I become bored and it’s all like a stupid hangover and there’s no use lifting a hand. But neither wants to say this to the other, out of shame or fear or - You see, we are afraid of each other, or I am.

Of course I understand it. It’s boring to stand for years in front of an ugly wall and it just won’t crumble away. Of course, but the wall is afraid for itself, fro the garden (if there is one), and you get out of sorts, yawn, have headaches, don’t know where to turn

You often talk with her, not only for the sake of talking. You walk around with her somewhere here or there, or in Roztok, and i sit at my desk at home. You talk with her, and in the middle of a sentence somebody jumps up and makes a bow. That is me with my untrimmed words and angular faces. That lasts only a moment, and then you go on talking. I sit at my desk at home and yawn. I’ve been trhough it already. Wouldn’t that separate us? Is that so strange? Are we enemies? I am very fond of you

from his leters to milena

Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember, all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire.

jane wong. from clearing

We want to believe everything has meaning.Plums blossom over a power grid

and I am in love again. The shame of it.

from leslie harrison’s [sirens]

I’m not Penelope married to faith married to waitingbound in fine soft strands of silk dyed and stretchedin my world longing has teeth and fins has a tastefor blood longing is a room built entirely of knives

Lorde’s melodrama tour interlude

Don’t you wish you could go inside a heart, see the strings and atrium’s, everything beating and bleeding. It’s kind of funny, I spend almost every minute thinking about love. Being guided, and divided by love. But I’ve never seen it. It’s just a rumour, a comedown, an afterglow. I wanna see it, in colour. In the summer, I can almost picture it

from Andrea Long Chu’s on liking women

One day, you tell yourself, it will give you what you want. Then, one day, it doesn’t. Now it dawns on you that your object will probably never give you what you want. But this is not what’s disappointing, not really. What’s disappointing is what happens next: nothing. You keep your object. You continue to follow it around, stash it in a drawer, water it, tweet at it. It still doesn’t give you what you want—but you knew that. You have had another realization: not getting what you want has very little to do with wanting it. Knowing better usually doesn’t make it better. You don’t want something because wanting it will lead to getting it. You want it because you want it

ada limón, In a Mexican Restaurant I Recall How Much You Upset Me

But love is impossible and it goes ondespite the impossible. You’re the muscleI cut from the bone and still the boneremembers, still it wants (so much, it wants)the flesh back, the real thing,if only to rail against it, if onlyto argue and fight, if only to missa solve-able absence.

i dont think i need to get into mitski songs because you probably already know but basically pink in the night/come into the water/once more to see you/in happy when she says if you’re going take the train so i can hear it rumble one last rumble/in i want you from the first verse to the first time she goes “i just need a quiet place where i can scream how i love you” (YES the card thing is very important)/the first verse of i will (w emphasis on everything you feel is good i f you wold only let you)/abbey/strawberry blond

sufjan steven’s futile devices obviously predatory wasp of the palisades you know the drill 

was going to find some twin fantasy lyrics but i started thinking about famous prophets (minds) and like. emotionally left my body so. i wont be thinking about it or any other songs anymore it makes me too crazy

from frances ha

It’s that thing when you’re with someone and you love them and they know it and they love you and you know it but it’s a party and you’re both talking to other people and you’re laughing and shining and you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes. But not because you’re possessive, or it’s precisely sexual, but because that is your person in this life and it’s funny and sad but only because this life will end and it’s this secret world that exists right there. In public. Unnoticed. That no one else knows about. It’s sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us but we don’t have the ability to perceive them. That’s what I want out of a relationship. Or just life, I guess.

from ellen lee’s notes on twin fantasy that i revisit constantly

there’s no going back to deliver these words to the ones they were really meant for. That’s how heartbreak feels, I guess. It feels like your heart in between the teeth of someone who’s looking away. When you’ve lost your loved object, what happens to all the things you have to say to them? When they’re turned away, what happens to all the things that you couldn’t, but desperately need(ed) to, say to their face? He dissociates himself from his own romance until it becomes a fantasy. You have your bleeding heart, you have a finite set of memories — when nothing new enters and you’re unwilling to let go, then you have a fantasy. The loved object enters into you and transforms.

the journey home by dermot bolger(havent read this at all dont really plan to/dont know a thing about it either i just came across this shit like 2 years ago and i still think about it)

I wanted to hurt him; I wanted just to touch him. What I wanted I’m not really sure. If he had stopped and opened his arms I would have walked towards him; I would have sat on the kerb all night with him

adam b, sweet i have a (really gay) heart

i feel like my body is the extension of a lake. i feel really badabout not telling you the truth, sometimes. i feelreally small next to you. tall boys remind me of bean stalks.i wish i had your legs. i wish i could know your handsbefore i even touch them

aaaand i think that’s all i could think of and track down, hope this is actually helpful and not too long (i am indecisive no kidding). also ksjdfg it’s nice that you thought to ask me this and i did have fun going over all these quotes so thank you 💖💖💖

[littlespoonevan]

14 for the cuddle prompt! 🌸❤

anon said:14!!!!!💕��💕💜💕 ily Ciara!!!!

anon said:13 plz plz plz u rock I love u

this is inspired by someone who fell asleep next to me on the bus. unfortunately it was a middle-aged woman and not a cute boy who i could’ve had the potential to cuddle with but, y’know, i gave that glory to evak instead lmao 

i hope you like it!!!!

14. In public + 13. Falling asleep

*

Isak slips onto the tram seconds before the doorsclose, huffing out a breath and gripping the pole to keep his balance as thetram takes off. Shifting his bag on his back, Isak glances around the car in avain attempt to find a vacant seat.

He silently curses the people who hoard seats whenthe tram is busy by purposefully sitting on the outside or using their bags totake up the extra space. He gets it, okay? If given the option, he doesn’t likesitting next to people on the tram either but he’s been up since 7:00 and he barelyslept last night and he just really wants to sit down.

Just as he’s about to accept his fate and sag againstthe pole in defeat, he notices someone moving their bag out of the corner ofhis eye. Looking up, he locks eyes with a boy who offers him a shrug andhalf-hearted smile that has Isak’s heart tripping over in his chest.

Because holy shit that boy is cute.

Squeezing the straps of his backpack between hisfingers he shuffles forward, taking a seat beside the boy with a quiet, “Takk.”

“There’s nothing worse than standing on the tram atthe end of a long day,” the boy says easily. “Especially when it’s busy.”

Isak smiles nervously, wracking his brain for somethingmildly charming to say but he takes too long and has to settle for awkwardsilence instead. He’s both relieved and annoyed at himself when the boy puts inhis earphones a moment later, effectively ending any attempts at conversation.

While the boy busies himself with staring out thewindow Isak gets comfortable in his chair, letting his bag drop to the floor tosit between his legs.

The thing about seats on trams is that, very often,you and the other person end up sitting with some part of your body touching.There’s simply not enough room for you to be concerned about your personalspace bubble. So Isak’s not all that surprised that he and the boy have to sitwith their arms and thighs pressed right up against each other. He expects that.

What he doesn’t expect is how nice it feels.

It’s just- he feels warm like this and the boy’s coatis big and feels a little bit like a pillow with the way it sinks under theweight of Isak’s shoulder. And Isak feels kind of hazy, mind going fuzzy fromthe heat of the tram and how little sleep he’s running on. He can’t help restinghis head against the backrest and it doesn’t take long for his eyes to start todroop. After an internal battle with himself he decides it can’t hurt to closehis eyes until his stop is announced.

Just for a few minutes.

*

Isak slowly drifts back into consciousness to thefeel of a hand jostling his arm. Blinking his eyes open, he shifts and takes asecond to bury his face deeper in his pillow before he can convince himself toget up except- that’s not his pillow.

Eyes widening in horror, Isak suddenly remembers he’son the tram and promptly launcheshimself upright. Still sitting beside him is the boy. The really pretty boywith the quiff and the comfy jacket and the little bemused smile.

The boy who Isak just fell asleep on.

Isak wants to die.

Before he can even find his voice to stammer out onapology the boy starts speaking. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you but I thinkyour stop is coming up.”

And that’s. What.

Isak gapes a little, grasping for a response that’sjust out of his reach. “I- what?”

The boy actually looks sheepish at that, glancingtowards the door before looking back to Isak. “I just- we usually get the sametram home and I noticed you always tend to get off the stop just before me.”

This…this boy has been on the tram with him before?

…Is Isak blind?

How the hell did he never notice him?

Isak is about to reply but then the tram crawls to a haltand, sure enough, announces his stop. “I’m- you’re right, this is my stop.” Hegathers up a bag and pushes himself to stand, hovering for a second and tryingto fight down the desire to just stay on the tram with the boy. “Thanks, um…”

“Even,” the boy supplies with a soft smile.

Isak returns it with his heart skipping a beat,hiking his bag up on his shoulder. “Thanks, Even.”

With that, he hurries off the tram just as the doorsare about to close.

*

The next day when Isak steps onto the tram he feels alittle thrill run through him at the sight of Even with an empty seat next tohim. Clinging to his courage with everything he has, Isak makes his way over.

“If I apologise for falling asleep on you yesterdaycan I sit down?”

Even’s face lights up right as he lets out a laughthat makes Isak’s insides melt. “Of course you can sit down.

“And I really don’t mind that you fell asleep,” hecontinues once Isak’s settled beside him. “You looked tired.”

Isak flushes at that, clearing his throatself-consciously. “Uh, yeah. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before so…”

Even nods in understanding before he nudges Isak’sside. “You know you still haven’t told me your name? I usually have a rule thatI know someone’s name before I let them fall asleep on me.”

Isak groans, burying his face in his hands. Hisinsomnia has made him do some dumb shit but falling asleep on a hot strangerhas to be the dumbest. “Please stop talking,” he begs, slowly lowering hishands when he hears Even laugh. His embarrassment is almost worth it to see theway Even’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. “And it’s Isak,” headds. “My name.”

“Isak,” Even repeats with a certain something in hisvoice that Isak can’t quite parse. “Well, Isak, do you feel like listening tosome music?” he asks, offering Isak one of his earbuds.

Isak takes it with a tentative smile, not quite surewhat’s happening right now but also not wanting to stop it. It’s only when he’sactually got the bud in his ear that Even stage-whispers, “I’ll even let youuse me as a pillow.”

Isak huffs and rolls his eyes to hide the fact hischeeks are still stained red but he might slouch down a little more in his seatat Even’s words. (He didn’t sleep last night either, okay?)

And it’s really nice. Whatever playlist Even has onis quiet – mostly acoustic songs that go easy on Isak’s ears after a long day –and the tram is warm but not the stuffy, sickly kind. Even doesn’t speak but he’sa comfortable weight beside Isak and he- he just-

Basically, it happens again.

One minute Isak is subtly leaning against Even’sside, the next he’s slowly being woken up to the sound of Even murmuring hisname and Even’s hand squeezing his arm.

Isak scrubs at his eyes with his left hand and raiseshis head off Even’s shoulder, meeting his gaze with an embarrassed smile andflushed cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Do you do this with every random stranger you meeton the tram or is it just me?” Even asks, voice soft and laced with quietamusement.

“Just you,” Isak admits and it feels like a muchgreater confession than it is.

Even eyes him for a moment, expression inscrutable,but then he smiles. “In that case I should probably start bringing a pillowwith me.”

“Your shoulder’s comfortable enough,” Isak’s stupid,sleep-muddled brain blurts out before he can stop himself. “I mean-“

“I’m flattered,” Even chuckles. “But I think we’re atyour stop now.”

With a jolt, Isak realises they are. He hadn’t evennoticed the tram slowing down.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Isak,” Even says, squeezinghis arm once more before letting go.

Isak has never hoped for a sleepless night more thanhe does right now.

*

It happens again the next day. And the day afterthat. And the day after that.

Isak spends the first half of his journey talking toEven and laughing at his jokes and trying to psych himself up to actuallyfucking ask him out before spending the rest of his journey asleep on Even’sshoulder until they get to his stop.

Honestly it’s a pretty good arrangement.

It’s been over a week of Isak’s poor attempts atflirting and needy cuddling when he finds himself on the tram once again withEven but there’s just one problem.

He’s not tired.

He had a good night’s sleep last night and he’s nottired and he only gets to cuddle Even when he’s asleep.

He’s having a crisis.

Their conversation has petered off by now and insteadthey’re sharing Even’s earphones while Even rhythmically bumps his knee againstIsak’s and this would be right around the time Isak normally drifts off. But he’swide awake today and hyperaware of crossing some weird boundary if he were tolean into Even right now without the excuse of sleep.

But he wantsto.

He wants to reach out and bridge the barely-there gapbetween them so bad.

Maybe…maybe he could just pretend to sleep? Just thisonce and then tomorrow he’ll actually get his act together and ask Even out.But right now he just slouches in his seat, letting his head drop onto Even’sshoulder and releasing a slow breath.

The thing about not actually being asleep for once isthat Isak gets to see what Even normally does while he is. That, apparently,involves Even resting his own head against the top of Isak’s and tracingpatterns over Isak’s arm – the sweetest, softest gestures that have Isak feelingclose to hyperventilating.

He holds his breath and holds himself still, afraidthat if he makes even the slightest movement that Even might stop touching him.

What he doesn’t anticipate is Even mumbling, “Isak,are you awake?”

Isak freezes, closing his eyes and swallowing hardbefore he makes a decision and catches Even’s hand, lacing their fingerstogether. “How’d you know?”

“You’re usually a dead weight when you sleep,” Eventells him. “And your breathing’s deeper.”

“I’m not tired today,” Isak murmurs, breath hitchingat Even’s thumb sweeping over the back of his hand.

“That’s okay,” Even replies quietly. “I guess myshoulder’s still irresistible?”

Isak huffs a laugh, turning his face into saidshoulder to hide his bashful smile. Even squeezes his hand and Isak’s heart isin his throat.

“Hey,” Even says, touching the fingers of his freehand to Isak’s jaw to make him look up. Their faces are only an inch apart andIsak can’t help the way his gaze drags down to Even’s lips.

“I know we’re kind of doing things backwards with thewhole comfortable intimacy thing but do you maybe want to get something to eat?”

Isak grins, butterflies erupting in his stomach as henods. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Even says, mouth turning up at the corners ashe gently bumps his forehead against Isak’s. “We can stay like this until mystop then.”

They stay like that long beyond the journey to Even’sstop.

*