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dutten-does-the-fanfic · 4 years

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I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 4

Title: I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 4 of 14 (ch. 1) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 9414 Warnings: Language, implied/referenced child abuse, internalized homophobia, sexual content

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 doesn’t go home.

He finds a public bathroom to clean himself up a little bit, using the water from the sink, and it’s just as disgusting as it sounds and he’s not entirely certain he feels any better afterwards, but the taste of vomit is out of his mouth and he doesn’t stink too much of sweat and alcohol, so that’s a plus.

Then he wanders around for a bit. He tries to avoid any obvious streets, nothing too close to the university or their apartment, not near the place they go grocery shopping or Jonas’ favorite Kebab shop, but everything else is fair game and Isak treats it as such.

He’s got his wallet on him – thank god, but he only has 100 kroner and he doesn’t know when he’ll be able to bear the thought of going home, so he has to be careful how he spends it.

At least he doesn’t have a hangover, which he tries to console himself with as he stretches out on one of the benches. There are children playing on a small playground the city has built, their screeches loud enough that he hears it all the way from where he’s sitting.

He tries to let himself, just, be, but the list of things he’s trying to avoid thinking about seems to be growing endlessly and his heart hurts and he ends up looking like an idiot trying to catch his breath whilst sitting on a bench.

He keeps going over it, mind running in circles that won’t actually end up solving anything. He can keep wondering why the hell Even is suddenly here, what will the boys say – they’ve already got so many questions and his disappearing-act will only increase the amount.

Isak has to go home eventually, he knows that. His laptop’s there, all his schoolwork, his stuff, but he can’t, he can’t do it.

God, he feels like he’s sixteen all over again, sneaking into Eskild’s basement because he can’t be at home anymore. The reminder leaves him feeling short of breath all over again and he ends up having to lean over and put his head in-between his legs unless he wants to pass out.

He can’t answer the questions. Hell, he’s never said it out loud to himself, he can’t do it to the boys. They don’t even know that he – that he doesn’t, with girls, or anyone else, really. Not when he’s still such a mess, he can’t bear the thought of being close to someone else.

He never told anyone. He never said a word, and once he’d spent enough time around Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus and finally had had someone to tell, he didn’t know how to. By that time, they’d already gone to so many parties together and there had only been talk about hooking up with girls and Isak just didn’t know how to tell them, “Actually, I don’t do that,” so he’d just never said anything.

Lord knows what they’re thinking has happened. Isak can barely grasp the concept and he lived it, it was his life, Even was –

Stop it. He’s not doing this to himself again. He’s fine, or at least he’s working on being fine. He has coursework and he’s slowly but surely getting his degree in biovitenskap and he’s doing it all on his own and he’ll continue doing it by himself. He’s bound to get good at being alone at some point, with enough practice.

Isak shudders and tries to draw his hoodie closer to his body. It’s stupid, he has no reason to be cold, it’s September for crying out loud, but here he is anyway.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there. Long enough that parents are shooting him weird looks as they take their kids to the playground, and they do so again when he’s still there when they leave.

There are so many people around Isak, and he spends a stupid amount of time worrying about what all of them are thinking when it doesn’t matter. He’s allowed to sit here, he’s allowed to keep secrets, he’s allowed to be heart-broken, he’s –

This was supposed to be his year, he’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to spiral again. He wasn’t going to drink excessively and miss half his classes and all of his study group sessions.

And the thing is, he had been doing fine. The semester has only been going for a couple of weeks, but he hasn’t once needed to email his professors about an extension. He’s turned in every single assignment, has done all the reading. He’s even mentally set off time to schedule a meeting next week where he’s supposed to work with his new study group. He hadn’t been drinking excessively and he’d only had one minor freak-out this past week, which is a vast improvement.

He’s alright, or at least he’ll be alright.

Sooner or later Even will go back to America and Isak will only have to deal with the mess he always leaves behind this one final time. He just needs to figure out how to deal with Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus – that is, Isak realizes with dread filling his stomach so much he fears he’ll throw up again, if they even want anything to do with him anymore.

He’s bailed on them twice now – Jonas had been so angry, so, so angry and Isak still doesn’t actually know what to say, what he can even say to them, especially not anything that would be helpful either.

God, things weren’t supposed to be this difficult. Isak was supposed to work towards getting a degree, he was supposed to redeem himself in his own eyes and be a better friend, a better person, and all it took was one night to smash it all to pieces.

He can’t do this. He can’t do this – he doesn’t know how. He never learned the first time, Jonas somehow just ended up dragging him enough out of it that he could finally breathe again after drowning for so long.

He was supposed to be better, yet all he seems to do is fuck everything up.

Isak bites down on his clenched fist to keep a sob inside. There are already enough people looking at him weirdly, he does not need to be the guy crying on a bench as well.

He tries to focus on his friends, but his mind keeps drifting back to Even. Isak shouldn’t even be surprised at this point, it always was like that; Even on his mind 24/7 ever since he met him.

Even looked good, healthy – a bit surprised, but Isak could imagine he was happy. Being a director had been all Even had been able to talk about when thinking about the future, and Isak isn’t bitter Even got to live the dream, but he sure does wish he hadn’t been left in the dust, trampled over and broken and trying to remember how to live without Even by his side.

He shouldn’t take comfort in the fact that somewhere, in an entirely different universe, there would be an Even who had stayed, or an Isak who hadn’t been left behind. He prefers the last one, because in that one Even still gets to make his movies, but that thought is usually reserved for the particularly bad nights, the ones where Isak has definitely had too much to drink and has only gotten the courage to look up movie reviews and check the latest gossip sites when he’s lying in bed and has pulled the duvet all the way over his head.

They’re not thoughts for midday Oslo. They’re not thoughts Isak should be thinking period, because they’re not good for him. They’re not. All they amount to is a morning of regrets, of newfound knowledge that Isak will spend the rest of his life wishing he could forget.

Ignorance is bliss, and even though Isak likes science, likes exploring and understanding, he understands that phrase a little too well and he wishes he didn’t, he really, really does.

And now he can wish Jonas and Mahdi and Magnus also weren’t aware of things. If Even just hadn’t shown up at that stupid fucking party, or if Isak had stayed at home like he’d initially been planning, before he’d gotten his grade back with a little check-mark telling him he’d passed and Jonas had practically manhandled him out of the apartment to go celebrate with them. If, if, if. They’re practically spilling out of him at this point and Isak gasps in heavy breaths as he presses his fingernails into the palm of his hand, trying to feel something.

He needs to focus on his surroundings, he can’t get stuck in his head – not here where there’s no one to help him, where his phone is dead and he can’t contact anyone and no one can contact him.

He needs to not be alone, but there’s nothing he can do. He can’t face anyone, can’t answer the questions and he can’t say anything – he can barely breathe, let alone talk and Isak has to bite his bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

A couple of parents have started pointing towards him, so Isak slowly gets up on his feet and moves on.

He follows the tracks of the pram. He doesn’t have any money, but he doesn’t have a destination either, so he might as well walk, try and make time pass quicker than it does.

It doesn’t work and by early afternoon, he’s starving and feels an even worse headache coming up from consuming too little fluid.

Isak’s better than this, or he wants to be. He wants to be able to take care of himself, he wants to be able to have his friends and his degree and a life, and he just doesn’t understand why it’s so hard, why it seems like no matter what he does, he just can’t.

His stomach feels like it’s folding in on itself so Isak ends up at McDonald’s, ordering the cheapest thing on the menu that’ll somewhat fill him up and the biggest cup of water they’ll give him.

He looks pathetic, he knows that, sitting all alone in a booth, surrounded by a mess of vibrant, happy colors while he more than anything resembles a wrung out dishcloth as he picks at his food. He doesn’t have anywhere to be, so he isn’t in a hurry, and despite feeling absolutely hungry out of his mind, eating isn’t a particularly pleasant experience.

His plate ends up empty, though, finally, and with a full stomach and dissipating headache, Isak ends up falling asleep right there, in the middle of children screaming and parents complaining, his head presses against the window as he nods off.

The sky is turning purple when he’s ushered out of there by a grouchy employee who probably thinks he’s on drugs. Isak tries to apologize, but the guy just looks more annoyed the longer Isak drags this out, so he does what he’s asked and gets out of there, doesn’t look where he’s going until he’s nearly in another area of the city.

He should go home. He should. The sky is slowly darkening and then he’ll have been out on the streets for nearly 24 hours and he shouldn’t be doing this.

Instead, Isak’s feet take him the opposite direction of home. If he’s lucky, he’ll find another basement, otherwise it’s nice enough out that he won’t freeze, especially not if he can find an alley or something to block the wind.

He can do this. And tomorrow, he’ll go home. He has to, he can’t keep doing this. He had promised himself he wouldn’t keep doing this and he’s going to stop, he really is.

For now, though, he’ll just let himself have this moment of self-loathing and self-pity. He even lets himself have a little bit of cry as he hunkers down in a muggy basement that smells like it’s full of mold. It makes his throat hurt and irritates his nose, but it’ll only be for one night.

It’s still long enough that his head feels entirely clogged up, like he’s coming down with the worst case of the flu, when he wakes up stupidly early. Or at least he figures it’s stupidly early because the sun hasn’t even started to rise, leaving the world feeling dark and desolate as only the very early commuters are up. Still way too many people for it being Sunday, but Isak is wandering around as well so he shouldn’t be hypocritical.

His heart starts to pound whenever he gets one street closer to their apartment and he feels so stupid. No matter what, no matter how angry the guys are and how many questions they want answered, it’s his home too – or it’s supposed to be. Oh god, what if they kick him out? Isak wouldn’t even be surprised if that were to happen.

Where would he go, where would he live? Eskild would let him stay on the couch for a lot longer than he probably should, even with the way he’d been blowing him off the entire first year of uni and only a halfhearted attempt of rekindling during the summer holiday, but all the rooms are filled up and he can’t keep living his life like a sidepiece.

Linn probably wouldn’t mind him being around, but Noora had moved back in when Isak had moved out in his last year of high school and he never really got to know her. By that he means he never actually met her outside facetime-calls where Eskild would suddenly shove him into frame to say hello to someone who was practically a stranger.

He can’t do this, shouldn’t be doing this. He can’t be creating problems before they’re an actuality. He needs to go home and confront the boys – or be confronted, Isak doubts he’ll ever actually go to someone to confront them about an issue, but it’s a nice thought that he could ever be that confident.

He should go home. He’s going to go home. His feet are certainly taking him in the right direction, Isak realizes with such a fright he manages to startle himself into taking a right one street too early.

That’s okay, though. He can take a left a bit further down and he’ll just have walked a bit of a detour, that’s fine. If he manages to take the left, but then walks past the next left he needed to take so he ends up walking all the way around the apartment complex that’s fine too. And if he takes the alternative route once or twice more before he finally decreases the distance to the apartment enough that he just feels silly at this point, then that’s also fine.

But Isak really does feel silly. Honestly, it shouldn’t be this big of a problem, it shouldn’t, but somehow it is and that makes him feel even worse about the entire thing.

Still, he acts braver than he feels and takes the final right and there, there is his home, right across the street. He just needs to cross the street and he’s home.

He doesn’t move.

Instead his brain conjures up all these reasons why he shouldn’t go home just yet. He’d spent most of the night sobbing – fuck, his eyes will be red-rimmed and it’ll be obvious he’s been crying. Shit.

He can’t do this. He actually can’t do this.

Isak’s standing right there on the street opposite of their building. He’s looking straight at their front door, he has the keys in his hand, ready to go, and he can’t do this.

He can’t look the boys in the eye. He can’t just saunter in there like he hasn’t technically been missing for probably close to 40 hours by now. He can’t do any of this.

Still, he needs to go home, and going for another trip around the block is only going to delay that fact, it won’t make it go away. He has to do this, but his chest feels too tight and his feet won’t cooperate and he doesn’t know what to do.

Actually, he might know what to do.

Because he can walk around the building, jump over the banged up gate leading to the green area with all the personal gardens for the people living on the ground floor. Mrs. Petersen, the woman who lives underneath them and continuously complains about the youth’s behavior, has a big apple tree growing in her garden, the last wisps of the tree ending right in front of Isak’s window. Plus, their windows are the ones that slide open and Isak’s never actually used the lock for it.

This… this might work out – especially if he can actually manage to climb the damn tree. Isak hasn’t done this since he was maybe twelve, so that’s about eight years, close to a decade, since he last climbed a tree.

“Just like riding a bicycle, ik’ sant?” Isak tells himself as he rubs his hands together. Jesus, all of this serves to wind him up more rather than work as the pep talk he’d intended it to be. “Muscle memory. You just gotta –“

He manages to crawl over the fence into Mrs. Petersen’s garden, and then he just reaches out with both hands and hefts himself up onto the first branch. He pulls himself up far enough that he can just about manage to swing his leg up and over, and then he’s sitting.

So far, so good. Honestly, he could be quite content right here if it weren’t for the fact he can feel rough bark digging into places bark shouldn’t ever dig into, so he draws his legs up until he can shuffle himself onto his feet. From there, it’s just a question about moving up to the next branch and not looking down at any moment, no thank you.

Isak has seen enough action movies; he knows what happens every time the main character looks down. Granted, he isn’t crossing a broken-down bridge, but he’s certain he could get a rather sizeable bruise from falling down from this height.

He’s surprisingly quick at getting to the top of the tree as well as surprisingly sweaty once he can grasp onto his windowsill with the tips of his fingers.

The window slides up without any problem and Isak ignores how he’ll have to look at the now greasy finger stains on the outside of his window – that is, if he actually gets to set foot in this place ever again after this.

Stop it, Isak hisses at himself as he swings one leg over the windowsill. He shouldn’t paint an alarmist picture before he needs to. He’s certain he can spend at least a day in here before the boys even notice he’s home –

The sole on his left shoe squeaks against the window, somehow accidentally snagging itself on it so when Isak goes to step down, half of his body is left behind and down he goes with a bang, landing painfully on his right knee, braising himself with his hands luckily before he also manages to bash his head into his bed frame.

Isak remains there as he gets his bearings. What is the likelihood of no one having noticed or heard any of that? They sure as fuck never hear him when he’s yelling about bills or going grocery shopping, but they usually have a sixth sense for when their presence is not needed. Surely, though, he could be lucky just this once –

His bedroom door slams open just as Isak has managed to work himself up onto his knees. Both he and Jonas stare at each other completely frozen with a wide-eyed look on their faces. Oh god. Oh my god.

“Did you just climb up here?” Jonas’ hand clenches on the doorknob as he looks at Isak with disbelief.

Isak’s heart is pounding, his tongue feels like it has swollen up and is too big for his mouth. God, he doesn’t know how to do this, especially not when Jonas is standing right there in front of him, hair frazzled and his body practically vibrating from pent-up anxiety.

“The apple tree.” Isak licks his lips and mentally kicks himself. This isn’t what matters.

“Jesus,” Jonas breathes out so softly Isak barely hears it, and then he continues more forcefully. “Where have you been?”

Isak winces. He doesn’t know half of the places he’s been wandering through. Besides, he doesn’t think the actual location matters much, so he just shrugs and mutters something unintelligible that makes Jonas quirk both eyebrows in disbelief.

“Did you stay at someone’s? We were out most hours yesterday looking for you.”

Wait, what?

They were… looking for him? Isak can’t wrap his head around that thought. Why would they – were they so desperate for answers that they couldn’t wait for him to come back? He shouldn’t have come back, all of this was a mistake. He doesn’t know how to do this.

“Did you…” Jonas hesitates, his hand sliding on the doorknob from how tightly he’s holding it. “Did you think we wouldn’t?”

Of course they would find a way to get the answers they want, Isak is a fool for thinking differently, he –

“We, uh –“ Jonas looks past Isak as his shoulders drop into a hunch. “We stepped over the line that night. We, we were just – yeah. It was too much.”

They overstepped – what is he even talking about?

“We were too much. We were unfair to you and, just, we’re really sorry, okay?”

‘Sorry’? ‘Okay?’! Isak can’t breathe. He doesn’t understand any of what’s going on, he really doesn’t.

“We were so worried. We didn’t know where you were, where you would go. You didn’t answer your phone, and then we figured you’d probably run out of battery sooner or later, but we couldn’t just let it go unchecked, you know?”

Isak doesn’t know what kind of secrets his face is revealing – he knows all the once he’s trying to keep hidden – but Jonas sees them, he somehow always does and Isak doesn’t know how. Even if he did, he isn’t sure if he wants it stop anyway.

“Are you all mad at me?” his voice comes out a lot more quiet than intended, a lot more timid. Isak had wanted to sound more sure of himself, but he can’t.

Jonas’ face falls. He looks almost desperate, and Isak doesn’t understand. “No one’s mad at you, alright?”

Isak doesn’t reply. Mostly because he doesn’t actually believe it, and Jonas must be able to see that on his face.

Or he can see something at least, because that something makes something in Jonas change. Suddenly, he doesn’t stay there frozen at the door, but he storms towards Isak, taking quick strides around the bed until he can grab on to Isak, who briefly worries about bringing his hands up because, is he about to get punched?, but all Jonas does is draw him into a hug.

Isak doesn’t remember the last time he got a hug – a real hug, not just a side-hug or a pat on the shoulder, but an actual hug.

Or, he does remember, he just doesn’t want to.

“Don’t do this again,” the tip of Jonas’ nose is warm where it’s pressed against Isak’s ear. “We worry, man. We just – we – this is your home too and I’m sorry if you felt like we were running you out of here, we were just –“

“Worried, yeah, I get it,” Isak murmurs. He doesn’t get it, but admitting that would mean Jonas would stop hugging him. He wants to press his head into the crook of Jonas’ neck, just to hide away from the world for a little bit, but he doesn’t do that. He presses his chin into Jonas’ shoulder a little harder to avoid the temptation instead.

“I still don’t know what to think about – about what happened,” Jonas breathes out. Isak more so feels the breath of each word rather than hears it. He knows Jonas can feel how he instantly tenses up.

It’s stupid, in the back of his head he knows it is, but all he can think is that he can’t run when Jonas is holding onto him, and suddenly that’s all that seems to matter.

“But frankly, it isn’t any of our businesses what, what the story behind that is. And if it’s bad enough that you’ll just – leave, take off like that, then…” Jonas trails off and Isak doesn’t dare breathe until he finishes whatever thought he has.

“I’m here, we’re here, if you ever want to talk.”

Oh god no, please no, no talking, Isak can’t, he can’t –

“And until that happens, that night according to any of us never happened.”

Isak forces his eyes shut so the tears gathering in the corner won’t fall like they’re already threatening to. He still doesn’t quite understand any of it, but…

Jonas isn’t only giving him an out, he’s giving him his chance, the one he’d worked so hard on for so many months, the chance that told him he was good enough for someone to want him to stick around, he was good enough that Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus wanted to move in with him, to share a flat and a space and a life with him, and one small tears escapes, slowly rolling down his cheeks before the fabric of Isak’s hoodie absorbs it.

“Just, please don’t take off like that again,” Jonas tightens his grip, once, in a tight squeeze and then steps back. He doesn’t say anything to the fact that Isak’s eyes are wet.

“Okay,” Isak whispers. And that’s all it takes.

Jonas gives him a small smile and claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s get some breakfast, alright?”

Both Mahdi and Magnus are in the kitchen, only Magnus actually looking awake and aware, and for a second the urge to run flares up in Isak again, just get out of there before they notice he’s there, because it’s too good to be true, it can’t be all that it takes, but then Magnus turns around, looking taken aback, then his face lights up and with a rushed out exclaim of “Isak!” he grabs onto him and squeezes tightly enough that it leaves Isak out of breath and dizzy.

Mahdi gives him a fist bump and tries his best to hide away a weary, worried look that Isak has a feeling he should probably be getting used to seeing on their faces.

Any second now, they’ll start, all the questions, all the accusations, all of the everything, Isak can feel it, and he knows it, any second now –

“Gutter, let’s have a feast for breakfast! Brunch or whatever –“

“Brunch?” Mahdi jeers. “You want us to cook brunch?”

“Yeah!” Magnus laughs. “Proper one, with like, sausages and bacon and –“

“Sorted,” Jonas yells, overpowering both of them as he slabs a box of cereal onto the counter. “Everybody, grab a bowl and pray to God we have enough milk.”

Mahdi ends up snorting some of the milk out of his nose when Magnus regales them a story about his week while Jonas is playfully ribbing into him, and all Isak can think is that it’s nice getting to feel like he can’t breathe simply because he’s laughing too hard rather than any other reason.

Sometimes, Isak grins as he looks up at the boys, this is all it takes.

Past

The thing is, Isak and Even live on opposite sides of Oslo and their schools aren’t exactly close by each other’s. They shouldn’t be crossing paths at any point during the week unless they’ve explicitly arranged to meet somewhere.

With that being said, Isak’s standing frozen like an absolute idiot in the middle of the road, because right there, right there is Even.

And he is not alone.

There are five other guys with him, all dark haired and with hesitant touches and careful smiles, like they don’t quite know what to do, but they all want to be there, it isn’t a pity thing.

Isak doesn’t get it, doesn’t get why Even looks so uncomfortable around them if they are as friendly as they seem. He doesn’t meet their eyes, doesn’t reach back out to reciprocate their careful touches – he’s so different from the Even Isak usually sees that Isak almost feels like he’s looking at an entirely different person.

Who are they? Are they classmates? Old friends? New friends? Close friends? Isak isn’t getting a lot of contextual clues. Plus, he isn’t actually going to get close enough to Even that he’ll be able to hear what they’re all talking about.

Close to Even. Shit, he shouldn’t even be this close; sure, he’s across the street and down the road, it was more luck than anything that he even saw Even to begin with, and there’s absolutely no reason why any of them would look in his direction, nor would anyone but Even be able to recognize him.

They… wouldn’t be able to recognize him, right?

Isak knows he hasn’t told anyone about – about Even and whatever it is he’s doing with Even, even if he came close to it with Eskild, no one around Isak knows about Even.

But Even… Isak isn’t around Even 24/7, he would’ve had plenty of opportunities to tell someone.

Is that why he looks so uncomfortable? He told those guys and now they’re ribbing into him? No, Even doesn’t seem the type, especially not to a group of guys Isak doesn’t even know if he’s friends with, but anyone else? His parents? Any close friends he does have?

Isak has literally no idea. It’s the first time the thought even comes across his mind and it’s bad enough that it feels like the ground has been swept away underneath his feet, his stomach doing uncomfortable rolls that make him feel nauseas all of the sudden.

Because Even could’ve told anyone and it wouldn’t only be affecting him, it would affect Isak as well.

A couple walks past him, probably only a year older or so, giggling and whispering to each other. They’re probably around Even’s age; do they know? Is that why they’re giggling? They walked past the, the – shit, Isak can’t even think it and suddenly half of Oslo might be shouting about it?

Alright, now he’s overreacting, half of Oslo wouldn’t even care about some random dude doing ‘stuff’ with another dude, but Isak can’t think clearly through the blood rushing in his ears.

He should leave, he should just go, get home, lock himself away until that horrifying moment where his parents will be pounding on his door, demanding to know what all the talk is about. In fact, he’s going to leave, right now, Isak goes to twist around on his foot when he sees Even look up, narrowing in on his exact location with terrifying accuracy.

And Even looks surprised to see Isak – not that he should, this is Isak’s part of the town, after all, like they’ve divvied it up, for god’s sake – but he also looks worried, even as he tries to cover it up and play it off as nothing as the boys clearly start to ask what’s wrong, looking in Isak’s direction as well.

Shit, Isak turns around so quickly to walk down the hill he nearly tumbles down it altogether. He grabs onto the nearest lamppost, ignoring the sticky feeling to it as he hurries away.

Shit, shit, shit.

He’s breathing far too heavily for how short as distance he just ran, it’s been a while since he last did any actual exercise instead of just wasting time away on FIFA.

Why would Even look worried? Did he think Isak was going to confront him about telling everyone? Isak doesn’t even know how to do confrontation, doesn’t Even know him well enough to know that –

Even does know him well enough to know that.

Jesus, Isak’s a shitty person. He shouldn’t just suspect Even right off the bat, there are plenty of reasons why he wouldn’t want to hang out with those guys. Maybe they make stupid, insensitive jokes, Isak sure as hell knows all about that. Even can have just as many reasons for wanting to hide who he is, wanting to hide Isak from the people in his everyday life, just as Isak has.

It’s not that Isak’s ashamed of Even, that’s not what it’s about, it’s more so… Isak would shout it to the world that Even is his – that he likes Even, show him off to everyone, but showing off Even would mean showing off himself as well, and –

Isak doesn’t want that.

His phone pings in his pocket and Isak leans up against the brickwall of the nearest building, his breath coming out in short pants as he fishes his phone out of his jeans.

That was you, right??? The text from Even says.

Isak could ignore it. Or he could write back a bunch of question marks himself, implying he has absolutely no idea what Even is talking about – he could ignore everything that just happened so if Even really had told people, had told those guys about Isak, then Isak still wouldn’t know he was the butt of whatever joke they had going on, he wouldn’t have to lose Even when he’d barely gotten to have him.

Yeah, he writes back. You alright? You looked uncomfortable.

It takes a while for Even to reply, and when he does it’s just the number ‘2’.

‘2’. ‘2’? What the hell does ‘2’ mean?

Isak glares at his phone, like that’s going to get him any answers, but then he hears a pair of feet pounding on the pavement, despite how many people are whizzing past him.

Even’s frantically looking left and right before he spots Isak on the other side of the street. He jaywalks over there before Isak can walk over to the crosswalk to meet him. A car honks angrily at him, but Even doesn’t even look back to wave an apology.

‘2’. ‘2 seconds’, except Even didn’t waste two seconds actually typing that out.

He’s winded, which makes Isak feel a little bit better about his own lack of fitness as well, and they both just stand there in front of each other, waiting for the other to say something. Isak should give Even the chance to explain himself – not that there’s actually anything he has to explain, it could all just be a scenario Isak has built up in his head.

“Are you,” Even hesitates, brushing the tip of his shoe against Isak’s. “Are you keen on coming back to my place?”

Isak raises an eyebrow. What does that mean – Isak has never been to Even’s, just like Even has never been to Isak’s, so why suddenly invite him there today of all days? Is there something Isak should be worried about, and if so, is it even a good idea for him to go anywhere with Even?

Isak shakes his head, trying to expel those thoughts – he’s being stupid, there is absolutely no reason why he should be thinking so badly of Even. He’s just paranoid and it’s the easiest to blame the person he’s closest to, who just so happens to be Even.

Even doesn’t know that though, and Isak has to watch Even be crestfallen for a second before he realizes Even thinks he’s telling him no.

“Yes!” Isak blurts out, too loudly. A man walking past them turns back to look at them before he goes back to his own life. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“Oh!” Even bites his bottom lip before he plasters on a nervous smile. “Great.” And then they’re off, heading into an area of Oslo Isak usually doesn’t traverse in, has no reason to go there at all, actually. He tries to keep it out of his head whether or not that’ll ever change. He should keep the what if’s to a minimum for his own mental health.

Even’s home is bright and colorful and absolutely the opposite of what Isak’s home feels like. Maybe they hide it away as well, though, because Even’s nose crinkles once they’re inside, kicking their shoes off before Even leads Isak into a room that’s so Even that even if Even hadn’t already described it, Isak would’ve placed Even here.

From the drawings tacked all over the closet to the guitars and the mess, it’s Even through and through.

What really gives it away though, are the huge windows with a sill just big enough that you could comfortably sit there, even with two people. They’re up on a high enough floor that the only thing outside the room are the tops of the trees, the slim branches knock against the glass periodically when the wind hits them.

Even steps into his line of sight in front of him, back hunched a bit, not enough that Isak could comfortably kiss him, were he to do that, that is, but enough that Isak can see Even for what he really is; absolutely exhausted. There are dark bags underneath his eyes and a slight frown to his lips. Even as he tries to tuck it away and smile at Isak it’s still there, almost like it’s been there for so long it’s now a part of Even.

“Halla,” Even mutters, shuffling a little bit closer. It makes it seem like he’s actually confident about this, but Isak can tell he isn’t, can tell he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. That puts Isak a little bit at ease, makes him feel like they’re standing on common ground.

“Hei,” Isak whispers back, tilting his head back just a smidge more without thinking, simply doing it from the mere proximity of Even, just in case Even feels like leaning down to meet him.

Even radiates warmth, even as they’re not physically touching each other Isak can feel it getting warmer the longer they just stand there, switching between actually looking at each other and looking away. God, it feels like they’re being immature children, but Isak doesn’t know what to say.

Does he even have any right to inquire as to who those guys were? Is that the kind of relationship he and Even have – can he just ask about personal things? He knows he can, has done it before, as has Even which is why they know things about each other they’ve never dared telling anyone else about. Some secrets they haven’t actually told each other either, but they’ve been quite evident from the first kiss they’d had in the street in the middle of the night.

Still, Isak doesn’t know of the boundaries, if they do so exist, and even then he has no idea what he actually saw or didn’t see. He has no idea where to begin.

Even clearly doesn’t either so he leaves Isak, letting him stand in the middle of his room like an absolute tool as he goes to fish around for something next to the couch underneath his bed.

Isak watches the curve of his back, the way the t-shirt stretches tightly enough that he can make out each and every knob of his spine. He shouldn’t have thought badly about Even before, already he can feel his body start to calm down from the near panic he’d managed to work himself up to.

He might not know Even’s friends or his parents or be a part of his life – the non-secret part of his life, anyway – but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know Even. He knows about his dreams and aspirations, he knows what he likes to drink in the morning despite never having shared a morning with him that wasn’t through the phone, and he knows that Even likes to use ‘secret ingredients’ in just about everything he cooks, even though Google will tell Isak it’s not that uncommon of an ingredient to use.

He knows Even. And Even knows him.

“Hey,” Even holds up an already rolled blunt. “You game?”

The window sill is big enough that the two of them can comfortably sit there. Isak stuffs his foot underneath Even’s leg and Even only complains about him being absolutely freezing for a minute before he takes the first drag and passes it over to Isak.

Isak’s only smoked twice before. Both times he’d been wasted enough that it didn’t look odd that he didn’t know how to do it properly. He holds onto the paper carefully, making sure to keep away from the burning end as he tries to copy what Even had just done.

And then he proceeds to cough his lungs out.

“What are you doing?” Even laughs.

There are tears gathering in Isak’s eyes, possibly from a mixture of the smoke and the gasping for air, but to be honest, choking is worth it if it makes Even stop looking like he’s about to pass out in the next second.

Even’s already reaching over to help him out.

“Breathe in,” he orders. “Hold the smoke in your mouth for a few seconds and then breathe out.”

Isak coughs one more time before he lets Even guide the joint back up to his mouth, pressing it gently between his lips. Even’s pupils widen as he watches the way Isak’s lips fall pliant underneath his touch, and Isak feels high enough already, even without the drugs.

He does as instructed, but it doesn’t help anything. He can’t hold the smoke in and his lungs are threatening to burst already. This is a lot harder than it looks.

“Jeez,” Even draws back until he can rest up against his side of the wall again, taking a successful drag himself. “You never cease to impress.”

“Hey,” Isak whines, throat sore already. He wiggles the toes on the foot underneath Even’s thigh, nudging him hard enough Even’s leg bounces from the movement. “It just got stuck in my throat!”

“Mhm,” Even placates, nodding his head seriously even as he’s pulling a weird grimace to stop himself from laughing again. “Don’t worry about it, I can show you something else instead.”

“In a minute,” Isak coughs into his elbow one last time. He folds his fingers around his knee and leans his head back.

The window is cool on his right side despite how warm it still is outside. Even takes another drag and looks out the window, giving Isak the perfect opportunity to just sit back and admire the specks of sunlight shining in, coloring his skin and hair in a more golden hue.

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

Isak takes long enough to reply that he can see Even’s fingers starting to twitch in nervous anticipation.

“Do you want me to?” he ends up asking. Am I allowed to?

Even shrugs, like it doesn’t matter the slightest to him, but Isak can tell it’s a lie, he somehow always can despite how much of an enigma Even can feel like.

“Are they your friends?”

Even though Isak isn’t smoking, simply sitting this close to Even, and probably from the failed attempts he’d had himself, Isak can feel his body slowly losing up. It’s either imaginary or Even has banked some really good stuff, because he doesn’t know if he should be feeling the effects so quickly. Unless he should take into account that he’s definitely a novice.

Even grimaces a bit at that question. “Yeah. Or, I mean, yes, but – it’s complicated.”

Isak nods, once, like that actually means something to him. He doesn’t have a back-story, not one to Even’s life and he doesn’t even have the names of his maybe-potentially-group of friends.

“There’s been some stuff going on,” Even’s staring resolutely out the window like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, “started back before I even met you. They were just asking if I’m okay.”

He says that word like it’s a bad thing. But then again, Isak doesn’t know what happened, maybe it isn’t fitting to ask that.

Even turns his head back to glance over at Isak again, a careful smile already plastered onto his face, “Anything new with you?” Even though the smile is clearly fake Isak takes the hint to change the subject, even as he’s shifting with the need to know – just in case.

“I met a guy,” he says instead.

“Wow, replacing me already?”

“Nei.” Isak tuts, nudging Even a bit more forcefully this time for such a stupid comment. His stomach flutters with butterflies at the implication that Even could fill what clearly sounds like a romantic role in his life. “He, uh, lives in a kollektiv, and one of his roommates is thinking about moving out soon.”

“Okay?”

“He –“ it feels good to get this off of his chest. He’d already suggested to his dad ages ago that he should move out sooner rather than later, but it had been a while since his dad was willing to listen to him. “He offered for me to move in when she leaves, and, uh, I – I think I’m gonna do it.”

Even’s eyes are soft as he looks at Isak in a way that makes his stomach flutter with something other than a feeling of dread that seems to constantly be swirling around in him. “I think that’s a really good idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Even turns back to look out the window, but Isak keeps on staring at him.

He isn’t going to lie, it’s still bothering him slightly. He gets that Even might’ve gone through some things he doesn’t want to share with Isak, Isak isn’t going to make him talk, nor would he feel comfortable knowing about it if Even doesn’t want him to.

But his brain works in patterns, in analyses, it doesn’t come naturally to him to just let a question lie. He might squirm away from it when it’s about something this personal, but Isak can’t stand the idea that someone out there, even someone he’s never personally met, knows this about him, about him and Even.

It’s going to bother him for a long, long time, he can feel it, if he doesn’t ask, so despite Even’s clear dismissal of the subject from earlier, the words tumble out of Isak’s mouth.

“Have you told them?“ About us, about how I feel about you, about how I think you feel about me “About me?”

As soon as he’s finished talking there’s a certain rigid tenseness to Even’s shoulders that Isak hasn’t seen before. It makes him look bigger, broader – he probably should feel more intimidating, but Isak isn’t scared. He’s scared around a lot of people, nearly constantly terrified if he’s honest, but never around Even.

“I haven’t told them, no,” Even taps on the blunt and a few burnt pieces fall off out of the open window.

It sends a pang through Isak’s heart and he doesn’t even know why. He should feel relieved – he does, he most certainly does – but it’s like a double-edged sword. The relief of not having been outed added to the worry as to why Even isn’t telling his friends.

“They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I liked you.”

“Oh.”

What does that even mean? Even isn’t out, neither of them are, but surely it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch were he to tell his friends he also likes boys?

“Not, it’s not – it’s not because you’re a boy, it’s – shit,” Even shakes his head and takes too heavy a drag, his voice hoarse from it when he starts to speak again. “It’s that they wouldn’t see you as, as my boyfriend, they’d see you as an obsession. They think my behavior towards certain things is more like a fixation and me being fanatic. They discard my feelings as an overreaction and I’m so sick and tired of being told what I’m supposed to be feeling and how much I’m allowed to feel. I hate it.”

Isak’s heart is pounding from both admissions, but he forces the word boyfriend into the back of his mind for a later examination, when he’s trying to fall asleep later tonight, because this –

Even isn’t quiet about what he’s feeling, and if he is it’s because he’s talking through his body instead, or through his ideas. But this is a lot more of Even in a depth Isak hasn’t had the privilege of seeing before now.

“Only you can feel what you’re feeling.” It comes out a lot softer than Isak’s usual tone of voice, soft enough that it draws Even’s attention to him. His eyes don’t leave him.

“All I know is…” Even starts, “I don’t ever want to lose this feeling. This, what I feel about you.”

“Me neither.”

They don’t move for a while after that. Burning embers drip off of the joint out the window. The drugs are slowly but surely being wasted, but Even doesn’t comment on it or move to do something about it.

Maybe it should feel awkward, doing love confessions during the middle of the day the first time Isak has ever been in Even’s room, but it feels so natural, and for the first time in so long, Isak doesn’t feel the constant need to run, to hide, to flee. He’s perfectly content to sit here, crowded into Even’s space.

He sits there and listens as Even tells him a little bit about the boys; their names, how he’s closest to Mikael, but he seems a bit distant about it so Isak wonders if they might’ve pulled a bit away from each other during whatever it was that happened. Isak in turn tells him more thoroughly of his meeting with Eskild, at least the parts he remembers and believes from Eskild’s reenactment the day after.

There are more important subjects they should be talking about, and they kind of do. They talk around in circles and agree without actually saying any of the words to show it.

“I don’t have anyone I could tell – or that I want to tell, about me.” About us, Isak tells him.

“I don’t either.”

Neither of them wants to come out, so they won’t.

And it’s not like they’re ashamed of each other, they both have their individual reasons that they don’t share right now. It just isn’t anybody’s business who they like, and they shouldn’t have to share that with the people around them if they are only going to be judged for it.

So they’re going to keep quiet.

To be honest, it makes Isak feel a lot more settled, like he’d been more worried about this than he’d originally realized, but now that they’re on the same page – on the same boyfriend page – it feels a little easier to breathe.

“Hey,” Even reaches over until he can softly slide his fingers across Isak’s knee, the tips catching on Isak’s own hand. “Come here.”

Isak doesn’t know where he gets the confidence from, but instead of just leaning closer to Even, he shifts onto his knee and shuffles forwards until he’s straddling the upper thigh of Even’s leg, the one resting on the floor for support.

The space is much too narrow for it, and Isak has to rest his left foot on the floor as well, but this way he can feel every breath Even takes, can see his eyes that are too dark for how much light is floating into the room.

He’s taller than Even this way by maybe an inch, so Even looks up at him as he takes a drag, the fingers on his free hand curl around Isak’s hip, squeezing around his side before Even straightens his spine. He leans up until his mouth can press against Isak’s own.

Even breathes the smoke out slowly. Isak catches the grey wisps within his mouth that he closes when Even presses his thumb against his bottom lip. His lips don’t part before Even pushes just the tip of his thumb inside his mouth, Isak’s tongue peeking out to press back against him.

Even’s eyes are definitely darker when Isak slowly lets the smoke out without any troubles this time. It feels like a rush of adrenaline spiking through him, and later Isak will think that’s why he’s able to lean in and kiss Even without Even having to make the first move for once.

It’s a lot different than any of the previous kisses they’ve had. From the careful first kiss when Even had been so, so much braver than Isak could ever see himself being, to the four tentative kisses Even had given him when they’d left the coffee shop, to all the other kisses they’ve shared between then and now. It’s not easy getting to have a proper make-out session when they’re both in the closet and never in a private setting – never before now, that is.

At first it’s as soft as all their previous kisses, but then Even swipes his tongue out, just pressing it along the curve of Isak’s lip, and then it’s anything but soft.

Isak can’t move any closer. His knee is already pressing up against the wall behind Even and there isn’t really any room in general. It doesn’t matter once Even has discarded the joint – did he just throw it? – and lifts his own hips up a bit while his now free hand curls around Isak’s thigh, giving Isak more purchase to move around as he pleases.

It’s so good. Warm heat curling in his abdomen and groin that intensifies when Even lets out a low groan at a particularly satisfying roll of their hips.

Even reaches up to grab onto one of Isak’s curls, pulling just hard enough that Isak loses his breath as he lets his head be guided back far enough that his throat is stretched out and Even can press forward with his mouth first.

He’ll have marks later, he can feel it from the tiny bites, just too hard sucks Even gives him for it not to bruise. It doesn’t matter to Isak, though, at least not in the moment as he curls his own fingers around Even’s arms, shoulder, anywhere he can hold onto as his breath comes out in shorter pants.

Later, he’ll probably give Even shit for it, teasing him about an apparent possessive need he didn’t know he had. But now he leans back down and breathes in the air Even exhales until they’re both too sensitive to keep moving, Isak slowing down from the deep grinds so just softly rolling his hips.

“Is that marijuana?” a disgruntled voice screeches all the way from down the street.

Isak and Even tumble down from the sill too quickly. Their limbs end up tangled together and they land hard on the carpet.

“Shh!” Even presses a finger against his own lips when Isak starts to giggling and can’t seem to stop, but he can barely let the air flow through his lips himself from how much he’s trying not to laugh.

“Jesus,” Isak laughs and then tries to muffle his noises by rolling into Even, pressing his face into the nook of Even’s neck. He can feel each vibration of Even’s laugh on his cheek like this.

“We probably shouldn’t do that by the window again,” Isak giggles once he’s gotten his breathing sort of under control.

Even barks out a laugh too loudly that Isak has to come out of his hiding place to press his hand against Even mouth and shush him, even though he can’t do it properly from how wide his cheeks split from a grin.

“Uh, we should definitely do it by the window again, is what I think you’re trying to say,” Even tells him when Isak lets go.

“Jesus,” he repeats and lets his weight tumble down onto Even’s body in retaliation.

Even’s breath leaves his body in a whoosh, but all he does is work his arm around Isak’s shoulders and pull him in.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I still owe you a nice story.”

“Set on a beach,” Isak insists.

“Set on a beach,” Even promises, pressing a kiss onto Isak’s head.

Next part

#Something Great #evak fanfiction #Dutten-does-the-fanfic #evak #skam fanfiction #skam #skam norway

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tehnardier · 6 years

Text

In A Crowd Of Thousands (Part IX) — Steve Harrington

Series: In A Crowd Of Thousands (other parts here)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader, side Billy Hargrove x Reader

Words: 2543

Summary: They finally get their shit figured out. *mic drop*

Warnings: none

A/N: !! PLEASE READ THIS !! me writing shameless fluff instead of angst? It’s More Likely Than You Think! IT’S FINALLY HEREEEEE! i’m so so so excited to see what you guys think of that chapter, so prettyyy please let me know! consider this my formal apology for taking so long to update<33 also! i’ve got only one more part of this story planned out, but i promise it’ll be good! enjoy<3 (tagged are below the cut and if you wanna be tagged, let me know)

Y/N wouldn’t have been able to tell how long she had been standing across the road from Steve’s house trying to gather the courage to do the thing that she had been most scared to do: come clean about her feelings for the boy in question.

After the whole thing with Billy, while he was driving her home, Y/N had realized that, if she didn’t do it that night, she would probably talk herself out of it. So, she very bluntly asked Billy to take her to Steve’s instead of her own home. Billy thankfully only gave her a knowing smirk, mumbled something about how he “better get an invitation to the wedding” and started asking for directions.

Now there she was, still in the clothes she had picked for her date with Billy and holding the high heels she ungracefully ripped out of her feet. She kept staring at the house, almost as if she was looking for a sign that this was a bad idea and that she should just go home.

Almost as if on cue, she saw the front door of the house open. She felt frozen to the ground, her heart skipping a beat as she waited to see if Steve was going to be the one to go out of it. Instead, Nancy Wheeler stepped out of the house and, before Y/N could even process what was happening, the other girl had already seen her and was awkwardly waving to her.

Of course that was JUST what Y/N needed. Steve had probably invited Nancy over and they had probably made out and he probably had asked her to be his girlfriend again, and Y/N HAD to be there to witness it. That was the sign the universe had given her to prove once and for all that her and Steve just weren’t meant to be together. It had to be. But, just her luck, the sign herself had spotted her before she could run away and hide under her bed forever.

As Y/N awkwardly waved back, waiting for Nancy to make her way over and for the unavoidable disaster that this interaction would bring.

“Hi, Y/N.” Nancy said with that uncertain sounding voice she always made when she felt confused or just bad for someone. Y/N couldn’t possibly blame her for that. She was miserably staring at the house of the guy she was in love with as if it could bring her all the answers she needed. “What are you going here?”

“I was just walking around the neighborhood.” That was the first thing that came into Y/N’s mind. She almost smacked herself right then.

“Barefoot?” Nancy questioned, glancing down at her feet. The girl didn’t let Y/N answer, just sighed and took a step closer, tapping her shoulder. “Just go talk to him. We both know he needs you.”

“I— Uh... What?” Y/N stumbled out, feeling more stupid than she had ever felt in her whole life. If she gave a fuck about anything but Steve at that moment, she would’ve gotten embarrassed. “I thought you guys were back together.”

It was Nancy’s turn to sound beyond baffled. “What? No! I’m with Jona— I mean, it doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you and Steve get your stuff together.”

“Oh, shoot!” Y/N exclaimed loudly and then rapidly covered her mouth with her hand. “Of course. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed things.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Nancy sighed. “Just go talk to Steve now, Y/L/N. Or I swear I’ll lock you both in a room and make sure to only let you out once you’ve made out.”

Y/N wasn’t sure she was joking or not, so she just let something between a chuckle and a cough. Nancy rolled her eyes wholeheartedly.

“I’m gonna go now.” She announced slowly. “But I’ll know if you chicken out, Y/N. So, just do it.”

“It’s not that easy.” Y/N said barely above a whisper, not even sure if she wanted Nancy to hear that.

“It’s not.” Nancy answered, her voice sounding about a thousand times softer than it had a few seconds ago. “But it’s worth it.”

Before Y/N could properly thank Nancy, the other girl had already turned on her feet and started to walk the other way.

“Thank you, fairy godmother.” Y/N called out after her, earning a quick glance back and the middle finger.

Y/N then took a deep breath and marched her way to Steve’s front door, not even bothering to ring the doorbell, just bringing her fists to the door and pounding on it a few times. Then she had to wait. And if those were the most excruciating seconds of her life.

A disheveled Steve eventually opened the door and his eyes comically popped out the moment he saw her standing there. “Y/N?”

“You have every right to slam this door at my face, but please don’t.” Y/N said it all in one breath. “I know I made a huge mistake.”

The next thing she knew, she was being engulfed into a hug, Steve’s tall figure towering over hers as she wrapped her arms around his back and breathed him in.

“I missed you.” He said, his voice muffled by Y/N’s hair. “And I don’t think I want to ever fight with you again.”

Y/N started laughing against his chest, feeling strangely relieved by his words.

“I’m serious, it was awful.” He went on, letting out a chuckle as well.

“It was.” With reluctance, Y/N unwrapped her arms from Steve’s torso and carefully pushed him away. “And we have to talk about it.”

“You look beautiful.” Steve said with a small smile once he was in a save enough distance to look her up and down and not bump his head against hers.

Y/N blushed, knowing he meant it but also knowing Steve ‘I’m gonna charm the fuck out of you so I can get out of a situation I don’t wanna be in’ Harrington too well. “Well, yeah, but I also feel not at all comfortable. So, you’re gonna let me in, I’m gonna borrow one of those old camp shirts I know you still keep in your closet and we’re gonna talk it all out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Steve cringed and walked back into the house, opening the door wider for her to come in.

Y/N doesn’t really know why she did it, but the moment the passed Steve and walked into the hallway, she leaned in and have him a little peck on the cheek. Steve blushed and cleared his throat, that kiss reminding him an awful lot of the one she gave him when they first entered that goddamned party that ruined everything. Or maybe hadn’t ruined everything, the events that night would bring were going to be the ones who decided that.

Y/N moved around his house like she owned the place and, in a way, she kind of did. At least, Steve had spent way more time with her in it than he had with his own parents. She climbed the stairs, two steps at a time, that being a weird habit she acquired after they spent a snow day stuck in his house in second grade and had to come up with different ways to have fun.

“I cannot believe you still do that.” Steve called out behind Y/N as he followed her to his own room. He found her already shuffling around his closet when he got there, and that made his heart fill with glee. They almost felt normal again. Steve crouched down and picked up the heels she had thrown to the floor. “What should I do with these? They look expensive.”

“Hide it, burn it, turn it into a weapon...” Y/N listed off, focused on trying to find something that fit her. “I just don’t want to see them ever again... A–hah!”

Steve looked up and saw Y/N hold proudly one of his favorite shirts and some old gym shorts. “Found it.” she exclaimed and turned to him. “Is it ok if I borrow these?”

Normally, Steve wouldn’t let even a family member borrow that shirt, but something about having Y/N wear it made him feel dizzy in a good way. “Of course.”

“Great.” Y/N gave him a toothy grin. “I’m gonna go change, then.”

Y/N left the room without a glance back. Steve didn’t question her on why she was so fidgety (was she nervous?) or why she had decided to use the guest bathroom instead of his own (knowing her, she probably knew that no one ever used it and left a toothbrush there or something of that sort).

Being left alone to his own devices, Steve carefully picked up the forgotten high heel and sat on his bed. If he was truly honest with himself, he did feel a pang of jealousy knowing that she had taken the effort to dress up to go on a date with Billy. He knew it was irrational and selfish to feel that way, so he swallowed down that thought and focused on how Y/N was here now. How nothing mattered but the fact that she, for whatever reason, had chosen to be with him in that moment.

“You seem awfully interested in my heels, Harrington.” Steve let go of the shoe and looked up, finding Y/N leaning in the doorway, now wearing his clothes and with a face that had been clearly just scrubbed with water and hand soap in a half assed attempt to take off her make up. If Steve had thought Y/N looked beautiful before, in that moment she looked completely ethereal.

“You’re staying over?” He asked instead, trying not to freak her out again. They both knew they were way past best friends, but Steve wasn’t about to push his luck.

“Thought I might.” She shrugged. “Would that be a problem? I’ll leave if you want.”

“No!” Steve answered quickly. Maybe too quickly. “You’ve always stayed over. Why would this time be any different, right?”

Y/N started laughing then, stepping into the bedroom and taking careful and slow steps toward Steve. “You’re trying way too hard to be casual about this whole thing.”

“Well, I’m almost pissing my pants because how nervous I feel right now.” Steve confessed. There was no use trying to be suave and charming, Y/N would see right through him.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N rejoiced. “I gave myself a mirror pep talk just now.”

Steve barked out a laugh at that, relief running through his veins. “You’re nervous, too? That actually makes me feel better.”

“But isn’t that stupid?” She asked, taking a seat next to him on the bed. “I cannot count how many times I’ve walked in on you naked, but now suddenly I’m nervous to be around you when you’re, might I add, completely clothed.”

“I guess that’s what love does.” Steve murmured before his brain could catch up with his mouth. He felt Y/N grow stiff beside him, and mentally slapped himself for being so careless. “I shouldn’t have dropped the L bomb so soon, right?” He added, his voice laced with concern.

“No, that’s not it.” She answered simply, taking a deep breath and turning her head towards him. “What makes you so sure I’m in love with you?”

“Is that a trick question?” Steve enquired, glancing at her with suspicion.

“No, it’s a question question.” Y/N poured confusedly and bumped her shoulder with his. “Come on, I’ll make it easier for you. When did you think I fell in love with you?”

“If I answer that I’ll sound like the most narcissistic man on earth.” Steve half joked, half meant it.

“You never cared when people called you the King of Hawkins High, and now you’re worried you’re gonna sound narcissistic?“ Y/N pondered teasingly. “Since when do you care about being modest?”

“I don’t wanna sound like a douchebag around you, Y/N.” It was his turn to bump his shoulders with hers. “It’s different between us now.”

“Well, if it helps, I think I started falling in love with you a long time ago.” Y/N stated shyly, and Steve almost screamed out of happiness.

“So, you are in love with me after all?” He beamed at her.

“You finally got it!” Y/N fake cheered. “Took you long enough, huh?”

“You did mislead me a lot.” Steve said as a way of explaining, his heart thundering loudly on his chest.

Y/N ignored his statement, crossing her arms over her chest defensively and puffing out her chest. Steve thought that was adorable.

“Remember when I kissed you when we were smaller? I think that’s when I first started falling in love.” Y/N said, her voice and posture growing softer with each word. “You were my first kiss and part of me maybe has always believed that someday we’d end up together, like some stupid fairytale fantasy of mine.”

Steve listened carefully, hanging on to every single word as if it could suddenly all go away.

“And then I come here because Billy Hargrove told me so, Nancy shows up like some fucking fairy god mother and you start getting this weird obsession with my shoe. I’m now 70% sure you three plotted all of this to make me feel like I’m Cinderella or something.” Y/N rambled, letting out a breathy chuckle afterwards.

“Smart theory, but I don’t think I’d ever be able to plot anything with Billy.” Steve joked, trying to fight off his nerves to at least try to be a little smooth. Normally, he’d be able to swipe any girl off their feet with just a few words, but something about Y/N made his brain-to-mouth filter just completely disappear. “I do wanna make you feel like a princess, though.”

“That’s so chivalrous of you, Harrington.” Y/N teased and turned around on the bed to face him completely, crossing her legs underneath herself, her knee touching his hip comfortably.

“Come here.” She whispered and took his hand, tucking it towards her. He mimicked her position on the bed and now they were closer than they had been all night.

“I love you.” Steve said, feeling completely intoxicated by her presence. “It feels fucking great to be able to say that.”

“I love you, too, you idiot.” Y/N said back, leaning in and give him a quick kiss on his nose. And then one on his left cheek. And his right cheek. His chin, forehead, the corner of his mouth.

“You’re just teasing me now.” Steve chimed in, faking annoyance though he couldn’t possibly hide the smile on his face.

“I was getting there.” Y/N mumbled, grabbing his face with both of his hands and smacking their lips together. Just like their two previous kisses, it felt like fireworks erupted inside them, both trying to express as many words into the kiss as they could. All the unspoken “I love you’s”, the inside jokes, the memories. One thing felt different though — this time around, it didn’t feel bittersweet, it only felt hopeful. With no prying eyes, no park full of families nor parties full of drunk teenagers, it felt like an open declaration of love where no one had any say in it but the two of them.

@vanitysfairr @astridthevalkyrie @strngervibes @wills-strange@givemesmutorgivemedeath @nancbyers@stevesharrlngtons@harringtonwife @moonlight53 @rockergirl581 @lovely-los-v-er @inspiredbynewt @glenn-the-cinnamon-roll-rhee@laauurreennn@veesimscc @stevieharringtns @-episkey-@californiaadreamz@kaliforniacoastalteens @tmalchow @musicandbeat@kinghairington @lilo-1398 @alexahood21 @stevieboyharrington @roozfictions@fandomsfavorite@the-sassy-slytherin92 @lilacs-lavender@dancethroughthethunder@steveharrigntons @willandspace @lonelyheart-jadedsoul @jinkanubis @littlevelvethearts

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagines #stranger things #steve harrington #iacot series

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littlespoonevan · 6 years

Note

SCREW IT. 8!!! PLATONIC CUDDLES BUT THEY'RE ALSO IN LOVE OFC OR SMTH (do which ever one u want I know u might be busy 💞💞💞) ily

anon said:Honestly all of the prompts but to make it easier 9/25

anon said:9/12 evak for the cuddle prompt please? love your writing

9. Totally platonic + 12. Just waking up

this is ridiculous but also based off a real thing that i heard ok!!!! it just screamed evak, i couldn’t help myself skdjfla i hope you like it!!

Isak would formally like toabsolve himself of all responsibility for this. It’s Magnus’ fault - like it’salways Magnus’ fault - and he cannot be blamed for the situation he’s in now.

Here’s Isak’s current dilemma in a nutshell: the rent for hisflat has gone up again, the heating is on the verge of being cut off again, and Isak is really fucking broke.

He can’t be blamed, he thinks, that he spends his Friday nightlamenting his fate after a few beers have loosened his tongue. Especially whenhe can – generally – count on his friends to be sympathetic.

“Just get a roommate, man,” is Mahdi’s helpful but somewhatredundant advice.

“I live in a one bedroom apartment,” Isak deadpans, sulking intohis bottle of beer.

“So share the room,” Jonas tells him, like it’s obvious.

“I can barely fit my own bed in there, let alone anyone else’s.”

“Fy faen!” Magnus exclaims, eyes wide as he snaps his fingers.“I’ve got it!” He pauses for dramatic effect, making sure to meet each of theirgazes before declaring, “Share your bed!”

Isak attempts to splutter out a scathing retort to that butMagnus barrels on before he can even manage to get a word out.

“Advertise your place as a bedshare! And make sure you sayyou’re looking for a nice person to ward off the creeps.”

“Magnus, that’s-“

“Actually pretty smart,” Mahdi cuts in, sounding mildlyimpressed.

“No, it’s-“

“I’m gonna draft an ad for you,” Magnus decides, whipping outhis phone.

And that is how Isakwakes up in the morning with a killer headache and a message from some guycalled Even asking about a bed to rent.

Fuck Isak’s life, honestly.

He’s fully intending on texting this Even person and telling himthat he does not have a room – or abed, what the fuck? – available but then he reads the message properly.

Drunk Isak – or more likely Drunk Magnus – told Even to comeover at 11:00. Isak checks the time.

Its 10:55

Shit.

Isak stumbles out of bed,reaching for the first pair of probably-need-to-be-washed sweatpants he sees anddragging them on before upturning his chair of clothes in search of a hoodie.

He’s just in the middle of frantically trying to pick theclothes up again off the floor when there’s a knock at the door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Okay,the good thing is that this Even guy will spot in about five seconds flat thatIsak is far too much of a human disaster to be living with and will probablyback out as soon as he gets a chance. This is fine, he tells himself. He can bemature, tell the guy it was just a prank and that he really, really does nothave the space.

He nodsto himself, determined, and then promptly swings the front door open.

And,oh wow.

It’spossible Isak is still a little drunk from the night before but holy fuckingshit this guy is beautiful. He didn’tknow people like this existed in real life?! He’s staring – gaping, really –and he doesn’t even realise he is until the guy raises his eyebrows and uttersa slightly confused, “Are you Isak?”

Isakstarts, straightening his stance and trying to make it look like he wasn’tclose to drooling just five seconds ago. “Yes! Hi! Sorry! I’m- I- uh I’m reallyhungover,” he admits sheepishly.

Evensmiles and it’s, quite frankly, the most stunning thing Isak’s ever seen.

“Maybewe could do this interview over breakfast then?” Even offers, and honestly,with a face like that, how can Isak refuse?

Tenminutes later Isak finds himself sitting at the breakfast bar in his kitchen,watching a beautiful stranger make him eggs.

AndEven is so nice. He talks so easilyand asks Isak questions about his life that Isak answers because he’s toodumbstruck to do anything else.

“Sodo you want to ask me anything?” Even says, poking at the eggs with a spatula. “Myonly references I can offer you are my parents – who say I’m a stunningroommate, by the way – or my ex-girlfriend, who, yeah she probably doesn’tagree.”

Evenlaughs and Isak feels like the worst person in the world. Because he’s actuallyconsidering this. He’s actually considering going along with this ridiculousbedshare idea because fuck, he kind of wants Even to stick around a littlelonger. (And maybe for bedsharing to turn into kissing; he’s only human, okay?)

Inthe end his stupid moral integrity wins out though.

“Listen,Even,” he starts, already feeling supremely uncomfortable when he forceshimself to stop being a baby and meet Even’s gaze. “You seem really nice andlike you’d make a great roommate but- I’m not actually looking for one.”

Evenpauses, a slight frown appearing between his eyebrows that Isak wants to kissaway.

“Butthe ad said-“

Isakwinces. “I was drunk and complaining to my friends about not being able toafford my rent and one of them decided it would be a genius idea to advertisemy flat as a bedshare.”

Evenis quiet for a minute, pushing the eggs around in the pan while he seems to bethinking over what to say. “You can’t afford your rent?”

“Yeah,”Isak replies slowly, unsure of where this is going. “My lease is almost up andthe landlord is hiking up the price again so I’ll probably have to get a secondjob or something. I’m sorry you came all the way out here for nothing.”

Evenhuffs a little bit, taking the pan off the heat and moving to the other side ofthe breakfast bar. “Look, Isak. I know we literally just met fifteen minutesago but from what you’ve already told me, you sound pretty busy with uni and yourjob without adding another job on top of all that.

“Iguess I am?” Isak admits.

“AndI need a place to stay and- well, my company hasn’t been that bad so far, hasit?”

Even’sgot this hopeful little look on his face and Isak can literally feel it melting his heart.

“Ionly have one bed though,” he protests weakly. He’s pretty sure Even could askto share his fucking shower and he’d say yes.

(Scratchthat. He’d definitely say yes.)

Evengrins, offering him a careless shrug of his shoulders. “That’s fine. I like tocuddle.”

Aftertalking over breakfast, he and Even agree to a trial run. A week long periodwhere they’ll see if they can manage living on top of each other without itbeing too disastrous. And, as much as he likes Even, he doesn’t really liketheir odds.

Isakis a slob and the apartment is tiny and his bed sheets probably need to bechanged and oh yeah, he has fucking insomnia six nights out of seven.

He’llbe lucky to come out of this with Even as an acquaintance, not to mind anythingelse.

Onthe first night they both decide to go to bed at the same time and Isak can’tdecide if that makes it weirder or not. He gets the most bizarre sense of deja-vufor a version of himself that doesn’t exist, like he’s one half of a marriedcouple going to bed together which is just- not a thought he should be having.

Evencalls out a soft, “Goodnight,” as soon as they’re settled and Isak echoes him.

Andthen they’re just…lying in Isak’s bed, side by side, in the dark, wide awake.

Great.

Isakgenuinely believed Even was kidding when he said he liked to cuddle. He thoughtit was just a joke to make the fact that they have to share a bed a little lessawkward. That doesn’t really explain why Isak wakes up from dozing to find Evensprawled across his chest.

Hefreezes as soon as he’s fully awake, breath stuck in his lungs as he waits. Forwhat, he doesn’t know. After a few seconds the heavy weight of Even on top ofhim and the steady rise and fall of his breathing tells him Even must besleeping and it allows Isak to relax somewhat.

Okay,this is fine. Even just reached for him in his sleep. That’s totally normal.Even must be used to cuddling. Isak can nudge him back over to his own side ofhis bed and go back to sleep himself.

Except.

ExceptEven is warm. And he feels nice andhe sounds so peaceful. Isak doesn’t want to disturb that.

Aftera moment’s deliberation, he carefully lets an arm drape across Even’sshoulders, settles back into the pillow a little bit more and closes his eyes.

Isakis distinctly aware of another body in his bed when he wakes up in the morning.(It’s not hard to miss when said body is lying on top of his chest.) It doesn’ttake him all that long to remember it’s Even’s. Slowly, he lets his eyesflutter open, giving himself one last moment to bask in this before he looksdown and gets ready to face the impending awkward moment.

Evenis awake, head still on Isak’s chest and watching him with an expression that’shalf sheepish-half unapologetic.

“Soapparently, you’re more comfortable than your pillows,” Even croaks and god, his morning voice should not makeIsak weak at the knees.

“I’vebeen told I make a really great pillow actually,” Isak says. Which isn’tstrictly a lie but Eskild also took it back five minutes later when Isak wouldn’tstop moving.

Evensmiles, sleepy and soft, and jesus christ, he can stay here as long as he wantsif Isak gets to wake up to that everymorning.

“Sorryfor like, completely obliterating any boundaries there were between us,” Evensays, though he still makes no move to get off Isak’s chest.

Isakshrugs, feeling a lot braver with Even curling into him the way he is. “We haveto share a bed. There wouldn’t be much point to this if we didn’t get tobenefit from cuddling every once in a while. This way I don’t even need to payfor the heating.”

Evensnorts but it morphs into something like a giggle halfway through and it’s too much. “Even with the extra body heat,I think we might freeze to death without that.” In spite of his words, Evencuddles the tiniest bit closer.

Isakhums in acknowledgement, idly wondering if it’s normal that he already feelscomfortable being this close to Even.

“Sodoes this mean I get to be your roommate?” Even asks, glancing up at Isak witha light in his eyes that feels far too meaningful for how long they’ve knowneach other.

“Ithink you’ve proven yourself to be a pretty impressive candidate,” Isakmurmurs, a wry grin spreading across his face.

Evenraises an eyebrow but his lips are twitching like he wants to smile. “If I cookyou breakfast again, will that seal the deal?”

Isakbites his lip, nodding once, and Even’s responding grin is blinding before hesqueezes Isak in a hug.

Isakmakes a mental note in that moment to send Magnus a thank you note later.

#evak #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #skam #tishul #asks #my fics #meme thing #ok i got this out of my system now i can properly focus on the tlditm sequel for the next week

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isisisak · 7 years

Note

1 and/or 17 please!

Hallaaa Anon! Sorry this took so long

So I did 17 (Lookslike we’ll be trapped for a while…) first and 1 (Come over here andmake me.)further down as little bonus The setting is an AU where Isak is in his 3rd year and Even is a student at UiO annnnnd yeah… :P if you dont like it feel free to yell at me Isak looked at the orange number change in the small elevator. The thing was making sounds as if it was offensive that someone really still wanted to ride in it. Stop at the 3, stop at the 3, stop at the- Yes!

The thing was, Isak was living in a little shitty apartment on the fifth floor of an old building. His flat was directly under the roof which meant small windows and a low hanging ceiling. But he liked it. It was better than living with his parents and after Noora came back from London and Eskild got a boyfriend it got just too crowded for him in kollektivet.

His favourite thing about his new place though, was the fact that sometimes, when he took the elevator at in the morning and sometimes in evening (ok, Isak may or may not has the exact time narrowed down) he was joined by the hottest guy he has ever seen.

Number 3, like Jonas called him, (ever since he told him about the guy that lived on the third floor of his building when he was more than a little drunk) was tall – taller than him – had the most stunning blue eyes and blond hair that was always styled to perfection.

So, naturally, when the doors opened on the third floor Isak’s stomach made a little flip as his eyes fell on the very familiar denim jacket (did number 3 ever wear anything else? – no. Did Isak complain? – no.) The guy smiled a polite hello which made Isak forget how to properly inhale and he coughed a bit. The space in the elevator was small but at the same time not small enough for them to stand really close. Bummer.

Number 3 moved to push the button when he saw that the one for the ground floor was already pushed. He looked up surprised at Isak. “You’re going down, too?”

“Uuh” Ok, Isak didn’t know much about elevator etiquette, but what was so surprising about him going down? But this thought was only in the back of his head because wow, ok, this marked the first time he heard the guy’s voice. Deep.

Isak nodded and tried to hold the blush from spreading over his face. The guy was still looking at him. “Yeah, uh, to a party.” Oh my god. Shut up! Number 3 didn’t care where he was heading, Jesus. He pulled in his lips and squinted his eyes a bit as he looked at his feet. Well, only about 6 seconds of this awkwardness to go. He felt both relief and disappointment at that fact.

But then there was a very strange, very loud and very scary groan from the steel cage around them. With a thud the elevator stopped. There was a beat of silence.

“What the fuck?” The guy said next to him, his eyes wide. He moved to the buttons and pushed the one for the ground floor repeatedly. Isak thought better than to point out that that seemed more than useless.

“Seems like we’re stuck.” Isak mumbled and almost took a startled step back when number 3’s head whipped around. “What??” his voice wasn’t so deep anymore and Isak almost felt guilty that he had pointed that fact out (even though it was rather obvious).

“Uh, let’s try the emergency thing.” Isak said and went to stand next to number 3. His shoulder brushing against the hot guy’s and well swoon.

After the second try they were forwarded to a helpline. The woman on the other side of the speaker thing told them it would take about 2 hours for someone to come and get them out. At that number 3 made a chocked sound and said “Oh god.” under his breath. Isak was pretty ok with it. He obviously wasn’t the biggest fan of being stuck in an elevator but he also had no problem with tight spaces.

The guy next to him though, started pacing (which, giving the small space, meant basically that he made a step and turned around again). Fingers carded through his hair again and again, a nervous gesture.

“Ar- Are you ok?” Isak asked tentatively and frowned a bit when the guy bent over and put his hands on his knees.

“I- I don’t think I can breathe.”

“Oh.” Wow, Isak. Brilliant comforting there.

“Uhm, ok. Let’s sit down.” Isak said and went over to him, putting a hand on his back, ignoring the electric feeling that went through him at the contact. They sat down and the guy frantically went to peel out of his jacket. Isak helped him when his arm got stuck in one sleeve and afterwards hesitated a second before putting his hand back on the back of the guy.

“Ok, uh, let’s breathe. In and out.” He said, and number 3 nodded but gasped for air right afterwards. Isak randomly remembered a gif he had seen, where there was a bigger and smaller getting ball, counting the seconds each time up to four that had the caption “breathe”. Ok, he could do that.

“Breathe with me. Four seconds in.” He said and made a show of taking a deep inhale while he tipped his fingers on the guy’s back. “And out.”

Those blue eyes focused on his face after a few rounds and the guy nodded. Slowly he got him to adapt to his breathing rhythm and calm down a bit. Isak let his hand stay on his back for a little while longer and stroked over the fabric of his shirt gently.

“So, looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” he began but stopped as he saw how pale number 3 got at those words. Distraction! He needed a distraction! “So, what kind of music do you like.” Isak cringed. This was the best he got, huh?

But it caught the other boy so off guard that he didn’t fall back into panicking. “What music- Nas?” He answered and nodded afterwards, when it had come out mor like a question.

“Nas?” Isak asked. He felt the strong urge to open up spotify and look that band up until he knew every song of them in his sleep. There was a little disbelieving look in the blue eyes in front of him.

“Have you never heard of Nas?” At this question Isak felt himself blush and a small smile crept over the face of the guy.

“I have!” He protested but cast his eyes down and shrugged. “I – I have heard of them.” The smile on the face of number 3 got bigger. “Hmm. Of him.” He corrected. A teasing look in his eyes. Isak felt his own eyes widen. Fuck. Not a band. How did this guy go from panic attack to flirty in under a minute. Wait, no not flirty, Isak scolded himself. Teasing.

“I’m Even, by the way.”

“Even.” Before he could form a coherent thought, Isak had already repeated the name back to him – to Even. It suited him.

Even’s brows shot up and the smile stayed on his face. “And you are…?”

“Oh! Uh, Isak. I’m Isak.”

“Halla, Isak.” Even said and the soft way he said his name made Isak’s head dizzy.

After that they talked. Isak told himself that Even was just into the conversation so much because he tried to calm himself down and ignore the fact that they were still stuck. But then Even would look at him in this intense way and not look away that the butterflies in Isak’s stomach went wild.

Sometimes Even’s eyes would jump around at the grey walls surrounding them and his breathing would get more shallow, but Isak would put his hand back between his shoulder blades and ask him other stuff about himself or went on rambling about himself.

So, now he knew what Even studied (Film and Media) and how old he was (21), what his favourite color was (blue) and his favourite food (Lasagne). And a bunch of stuff more. Despite the fact that Even still looked pale and exhausted, he was still animatedly taking part in the conversation.

“I’m sorry.” Even said suddenly, voice low. He looked at Isak from where his head rested at the wall behind him.

“Don’t be sorry! There is nothing bad about being scared about- “ Isak reassured him, stroking his hand - that now lay on Even’s arm - up and down as he was interrupted by Even.

“No. I mean I know. And thank you. But-“ he shrugged before he continued, ”this is not how I planned your first impression of me.”

Oh. “Wh- What do you mean?” Isak asked breathlessly, not sure where he found the courage or the voice since there was a huge lump in his throat.

Even curled his lips to the side, a shy smile flew over his face.

“I wanted you to-“ Suddenly the elevator groaned again and shook. Both of them looked at each other wide eyed, then the doors opened with an innocent ping, as if nothing happened.

You got to be fucking kidding. Even wanted him to??? What??? Isak and Even both scrambled to their feed and Even quickly grabbed for his jacket and stepped off, taking a big breath in when he was out of the elevator. He slumped his shoulders a bit and let out a relieved laugh.

“Ah! I am really never getting into that thing again.” Even said, pointing accusingly at the elevator Isak now stepped off, too. Isak answered with a weak smile. Well, there went his chances of running in to Even by accident.

Even’s gaze stayed on him and Isak again felt a flutter in his stomach at the intense blue eyes. “Are you…” Even trailed of, bit his lip and looked at his shoes, one foot shoving at some dirt on the floor, before he returned his eyes to Isak. “Are you up to grab a beer with me?”

It was a lost cause to try and simmer down the wide smile that Isak felt on his lips. He wouldn’t want to anyway since this got Even to light up and a huge grin that made the sides of his eyes crinkle up take over his face. Maybe he didn’t need the old elevator to get to see Even after all.

— 2 months later “Baaaby. Can you give me my shoe back?” Even rolled his eyes. A gesture he has adapted from his boyfriend of two months. Isak, who currently held Even’s right shoe hostage, stepped out of his small flat and walked backwards to the open doors of the elevator. “Evi, it’s been two months. You need to get over it. My legs can’t take to walk up five flights of stairs every day.” “If you would just stay at my place, you would only have to walk up three.” Even shrugged as he slowly edged closer to Isak, who stood in the middle of the doors so they would stay open. “Can you give me my shoe back now? We need to go to meet your friends.” Even tried to make his voice sound exasperated but it came out fond nontheless. Isak grinned and took a step back into the elevator. “Come over here and make me.”

#isak x even #im sorry if this has a lot of typos in it #im so tired right now i shouldnt work with heacy machinery or HCs tbh #isi's HCs #skam #evak

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theworstbob · 7 years

Text

yellin’ at songs: week 31

brief reviews of the songs that debuted on the 8.9.1997, 8.11.2007, and 8.12.2017 editions of the billboard hot 100

8.9.1997

10) "Never Make a Promise," by Dru Hill

See, the thing about this R&B song in which a person makes an eternal promise that separates it from all the other dozens I've heard in the past couple of weeks is, goddamnit I was really hoping I would come up with a joke by the time I got to the conjunction, I figured, y'know, I'd get the ball rolling, get some momentum, y'know? If I started saying words in the cadence of a joke, I would get with the program and sort of involuntarily make a joke. I see now the folly in my ways. I should've been better prepared for 1997. I knew milquetoast R&B was in store. I dropped the ball on this one, and dropped it in such a way that it did not start rolling, to tie it back to a metaphor from earlier. I promise to do better. And uh, fun fact about me, I never make a promise I won't keep.

87) "Down for Yours," by Nastyboy Klick ft./Roger Troutman

Pitch the Auto-tune a little lower, put in a few of those drums what sound like a dude roiling his rs to imitate a machine gun, and this is a perfectly acceptable 2017 pop/rap song. I just wanna real quick address something: I know I said last week that every 1997 rapper, short Magoo, was better than the best 2017 rapper, but I was speaking in terms of pop/rap. Like, if you only go by what charted, which is a mistake for so... so many reasons, 1997 rap is better? But once -- I mean, the Kendrick and Jay albums were fire, but more importantly, you've got folks like Vince Staples and Brother Ali and Joey Bada$$ and Lupe Fiasco and SZA making awesome, challenging works that aren't gonna chart. These charts are at once a sample of music history and the poorest imaginable representation of music history. Anyhoo, I don't know what previously held the title of 'most innocuous song to throw Bob into an existential tailspin over the general utility of the YAS project,' but it belongs to this dumb sack of song now!

90) "Never, Never Gonna Give You Up," by Lisa Stansfield

Hey: if nothing else, clicking on this edition of YAS 7s should give you a fun and cool new way to Rickroll your friends. Add a meta layer to your Rickroll game. I know this isn't actually a comment on the song, because how could anyone be aware of memes in 1997? All these songs predate Hamsterdance. Someone should have told Lisa Stansfield there was already a song called this, though. Anyhoo, I'm not actually talking about these songs at all. They're boring! This is probably the most okay song so far, but I'm putting it out of my mind to think about a boring meme about a boring song.

92) "Drink, Swear, Steal, & Lie" by Michael Peterson

aw this guy's just a big ol' dork. i love him! ii love his dork ass song about how in love with his girl he is. this song has one joke and it's still a vastly more complex and well-written song than any pi[50,000 word treatise on bro country redacted]anyway, this dude's great. like, i'm a pop/punk main, y'know? i love dorky and earnest jams. this hits that button squarely, y'all. i'm so into this.

only publishing the 1997 top 20 because changes happen with the other two and i value consistency

20) "Step by Step," by Whitney Houston (3.15) 19) "Can We," by SWV ft./Missy Elliott (8.2) 18) "On and On," by Erykah Badu (1.25) 17) "I Want You," by Savage Garden (3.1) 16) "It Must Be Love," by Robin S. (5.24) 15) "Smokin' Me Out," by Warren G ft./Ronald Isley (6.21) 14) "Fix," by BLACKstreet ft./Ol' Dirty Bastard (8.2) 13) "Silent All These Years," by Tori Amos (3.22) 12) "What They Do," by The Roots (1.11) 11) "Step Into a World (Rapture's Delight)," by KRS-One (4.5) 10) "I'm Not Feeling You," by Yvette Michele (2.22) 9) "Bill," by Peggy Scott-Adams (3.29) 8) "Just Another Case," by CRU ft./Slick Rick (7.5) 7) "I'll Be," by Foxy Brown ft./Jay-Z (2.15) 6) "Felton St.," Leschea (6.14) 5) "Bitch," by Meredith Brooks (4.26) 4) "Mo Money, Mo Problems," by The Notorious B.I.G. ft./Puff Daddy & Mase (8.2) 3) "Return of the Mack," by Mark Morrison (3.1) 2) "Hypnotize," by The Notorious B.I.G. (4.26) 1) "Not Tonight (Ladies' Night Remix)," by Lil Kim ft./Angie Martinez, Left Eye, Da Brat & Missy Elliott (7.12)

8.11.2007

47) "Stronger," Kanye West

Graduation is such a goofy album because it has three of the best Kanye singles of all time, including what, let's be real, probably ends up as the best song from 2007, but it's also Kanye's worst and least interesting album. It's Kanye at a crossroads, stuck between being the pop/rap god and the morose Auto-tune sadlord who makes 808s and MBDTF. This song actually finds Kanye at the perfect point in the crossroads. He's still making a towering achievement for the mainstream, but he's breaking out of being chop up the soul Kanye, moving into electronic territory, developing his sound into that direction in a way that doesn't quite sound like MBDTF but sounds like the first step on that road. It'd be a bold experiment if it didn't absolutely work, and this is an amazing song by any objective measure.

65) "Cyclone," Baby Bash ft./T-Pain

Man maybe I just haven't noticed it yet or maybe I'm just coming down from the "Stronger" high, but I forgot how horrible the generic crunk beat was to listen to. It hasn't been quite so prevalent, but heck whoever gave this dude the Lil Jon MP3s. I will say that T-Pain making noises to describe what it feels like when a woman dips it low is the tiniest little miracle of a thing, but boy, is my life not better with this song in it. OK I just got to the part where T-Pain makes that noise three times in a row, this song is an achievement in Western art and culture and the world is saved.

83) "Love Me if You Can," Toby Keith

who the fuck listens to toby keith for the ballads like who is this for who thinks of this song when they think of toby keith no legit dude just make dumbass party jams i don't get why this would ever need to exist

84) "Take Me There," Rascal Flatts

Like legit why would you give "Love Me if You Can" to Toby Keith when Rascal Flatts is literally right there. Songs like "Love Me if You Can" and this treacly pile of love song are why you made Rascal Flatts in the first place. I also enjoy the twist this puts on The Country Song. I don't think anyone ever came to Rascal Flatts for Authentic Country Music, so them saying they want the girl to take them to Main Street and the backroads is actually kinda sweet. Like, they're not posturing, they're saying, "Yeah, we're clearly city softboys, but we wanna see the small town blue jean nights that made my girl." Rascal Flatts: generally inoffensive yet again! They just keep comin'!

89) "Proud of the House We Built," Brooks & Dunn

I like this song because it reminded me of The Wonder Years' "Teenage Parents," and I appreciate the opportunity to think about The Wonder Years. I dunno, country hasn't really been problematic this week! This song is almost good! It's just a nice look back on life. "Yeah, it kinda sucked, butcha know what, we made it." Maybe it could've acknowledged that the tough times sucked instead of looking back smiling and saying, "I wouldn't have it any other way?" Hard times suck, dude. I know you haven't heard that Paramore jam yet, but hard times suck and you shouldn't idealize them. Especially when, you know, you're a millionaire, and people who are actually going through hard times are listening to you and saying, "Welp, guess this is my station in life!" Hey Bob you're going on a treatise on the sociological implications of bro country, and you are actually unable to write that. Please write about JoBros.

92) "Hold On," Jonas Brothers

What a week for songs named after far more notable '80s jams! (Actually Wilson Phillips w)I LOOKED IT UP AND DECIDED I DIDN'T CARE anyway did anyone else forget that Jonas Brothers are like legit songwriters? Like, this is definitely as good as any Simple Plan song, and Simple Plan was like a decade older than these kids. Does Simple Plan make good music? That's beside the point, which is that Jonas Brothers was never garbage. They were always making highly enjoyable pop/rock songs for the whole family, and they were capable of making these songs from an extraordinarily young age. We could've done worse, is what I'm trying to get at. Like, we had it pretty got dang good with the JoBros, friends! There's a world where JoBros fades into semi-obscurity and makes highly enjoyable Christian rock with Hanson, and also no one ever makes "Jealous," and that's a pretty OK alternate reality, that one.

100) "Hood Nigga," Gorilla Zoe

The most optimistic sentence on Wikipedia is, "This is Gorilla Zoe's only top 40 hit on that chart, to date." This song ain't bad! It would've been a fine #1 in some of those weeks where the best song was like "Do it Just Like a Rock Star." He has this really fun and gruff voice, maybe a little laconic but certainly pleasant to put in the ears, the beat is, as the kids might have said in 2007, knockin', and we have certainly heard worse things! Also the radio edit replaces N with F and of all the letters to replace the N, F is easily the funniest, because now this song is about a dude who can't get enough figs in his life. Fuck Cristal, this dude's got a Fig Newton cabinet.

New #1 hype! 20) "Lip Gloss," by Lil Mama (6.9.2007) 19) "Stolen," by Dashboard Confessional (4.21.2007) 18) "Beautiful Liar," by Beyonce & Shakira (3.31.2007) 17) "Cupid's Chokehold," by Gym Class Heroes ft./Patrick Stump (1.13.2007) 16) "The River," by Good Charlotte ft./M. Shadows & Synyster Gates (2.10.2007) 15) "Say OK," by Vanessa Hudgens (2.17.2007) 14) "Alyssa Lies," by Jason Michael Carroll (1.13.2007) 13) "Never Again," by Kelly Clarkson (5.12.2007) 12) "Can't Tell Me Nothing," by Kanye West (6.16.2007) 11) "Get Buck," by Young Buck (4.14.2007) 10) "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going," by Jennifer Hudson (1.13.2007) 9) "Thnks fr th Mmrs," by Fall Out Boy (4.28.2007) 8) "Candyman," by Christina Aguilera (1.13.2007) 7) "Misery Business," by Paramore (7.21.2007) 6) "Because of You," by Ne-Yo (3.17.2007) 5) "Umbrella," by Rihanna ft./Jay-Z (4.28.2007) 4) "Beautiful Flower," by India.Arie (6.16.2007) 3) "Dashboard," by Modest Mouse (2.17.2007) 2) "The Story," by Brandi Carlile (4.28.2007) 1) "Stronger," by Kanye West (8.11.2007) Hey guess what the alt-country song doesn’t end up being Record of the Year 2017. Also I made a minor adjustment to #20 because Lil Mama is going to stay around as long as I feel I cannot bop her in good conscience.

8.12.2017

40) "Back to You," by Louis Tomlinson ft./Bebe Rexha & Digital Farm Animals

Huh, well, I think I mind this the least of all the One Direction side projects! I'm down for a duet, even if this is just a little too low-key to ever attain Iconic Duet status -- drunk folks and karaoke wanna shout about love, and while I'm sure they'll appreciate the "you fuck me... up" phrasing, you're not giving them a lot to work wth. I've never minded Bebe Rexha as little as I do here, and just like in his boyhood, Louis Tomlinson doesn't do anything to ruin everything. This was passable. I wouldn't mind hearing this again, I wouldn't mind if a thousand lives were lived before I heard it again.

61) "What's My Name," by China Anne McClain 81) "It's Goin' Down," Descendants 2 Cast

Listen. Am I upset that this young woman's villain song does not in any way hearken back to "Poor Unfortunate Souls" in any way? Of course. Am I 15 years aged out of the target market for this song? I mean fucking obviously, I knew we'd be treading in these waters eventually. These are fine generic pop songs, the only true flaw in any being the fact someone looked at purple-haired girl and said, "She should be in a rap battle. I think she could convincingly hold her own in a rap battle," like I'm sorry sweetie you have an abundance of other talents and zero bars. It's charming. It's charming! Listen. Am I ready for China Anne McClain to rule the world for five yet-to-be-determined years in the future? Yes. Do I love Captain Hook's gay son? I LOVE CAPTAIN HOOK'S GAY SON

77) "Issues," by Meek Mill 79) "Wins & Losses," by Meek Mill 83) "1942 Flows," by Meek Mill 96) "We Ball," by Meek Mill ft./Young Thug 97) "Fuck That Check Up," by Meek Mill ft./Lil Uzi Vert 99) "Heavy Heart," by Meek Mill

So if I'm rating the theme weeks of 2017: 1) Kendrick Week 2) Jay-Z Week 3) Future Week 4) Meek Mill Week 5) Migos Week 6) Ed Sheeran Week 7) Big Sean Week 8) Drake Week 9) Bryson Tiller Week I was honestly surprised by how much I enjoyed these songs. Like, I'm actually adding the Meek Mill album to the library for future listening. "1942 Flows" and "Wins & Losses" are legit, they're engaging songs and Meek Mill brings passion to them, and maybe I'm just unfamiliar with the rest of Meek Mill's catalogue, but I honestly didn't expect to be involved in these songs. This seems like a fine album with which to kill a summer bus ride or two. Like, I can't remember the last time I heard a song with a Young Thug feature where I wasn't paying more attention to what Young Thug was doing. Meek Mill did fine work. (Worth noting: Wins & Losses is 15 minutes longer than DAMN., and I am curious what makes Meek Mill think he has 15 minutes' more of worthwhile thought than Kendrick.)

91) "Imitadora," by Romeo Santos

It was "Heroe Favorito," right, where I said I might enjoy Romeo Santos' whole thing on another day, when I was ready to accept him into my life? WELL HOT DIGGITY, Y'ALL, 'CUZ TODAY'S THAT DAY. I love his breathy falsetto thing over this song way more, it just fits. I'm also in love with this track, this gentle Latin guitar with occasional blasts of indie platformer main menu music. I don't know a better term to express what I mean because I'm bad at music, but these synth blasts play in the intro and outro and occasionally come back and they just take this track to another level. This is just phenomenal work from someone I now understand to be a veteran in the scene from the past seven months of limited engagement with the world of Latin pop.

I changed the top of the 2017 Top 20 again. 20) "Bodak Yellow," by Cardi B (7.22) 19) "Woman," by Kesha ft./The Dap-Kings Horns (8.5) 18) "Smile," by Jay-Z ft./Gloria Carter (7.29) 17) "Love Galore," by SZA ft./Travis Scott (7.1) 16) "Bad Liar," by Selena Gomez (6.3) 15) "DNA." by Kendrick Lamar (5.6) 14) "It Ain't Me," by Kygo x Selena Gomez (3.4) 13) "Craving You," by Thomas Rhett ft./Maren Morris (4.22) 12) "That's What I Like," by Bruno Mars (3.4) 11) "Chanel," by Frank Ocean ft./A$AP Rocky (4.1) 10) "Strangers," by Halsey ft./Lauren Jauregui (6.17) 9) "Either Way," by Chris Stapleton (5.27) 8) "Run Up," by Major Lazer ft./PARTYNEXTDOOR & Nicki Minaj (2.18) 7) "Imitadora," by Romeo Santos (8.12) 6) "Green Light," by Lorde (3.18) 5) "Hard Times," by Paramore (5.13) 4) "ELEMENT." by Kendrick Lamar (5.6) 3) "Despacito," by Luis Fonsi ft./Daddy Yankee (2.4) 2) "iSpy," by KYLE ft./Lil Yachty (1.14) 1) "Issues," by Julia Michaels (2.11) Like #1 should be a mix of Most Impactful Song and Song I Enjoyed Most, and maybe #1 justifiably belongs to “Despacito” given how great that is, I’m still getting a lot of mileage out of “Issues,” and honestly as long as I’m not keeping up this silly idea that a song that was #90 for one week is the most iconic song of the year this useless list has at least some utility. Shoutout to the true heroes Paramore, though. And also Major Lazer, PARTYNEXTDOOR, and Nicki Minaj. I will never fucking forget you guys.

Who won the week?

2017 actually put up a rather strong fight, but there was no way Meek Mill and the Descendants 2 soundtrack were going to take down “Stronger,” even when it was being weighed down with Toby Keith. 2007 had a couple strong punches, and it was more than able to notch another point. 2017: 11 1997: 11 2007: 9 In next week’s post, we get to listen to Spice Girls AND Billy Joel, 2007 gives us Luke Bryan AND Robin Thicke, and I don’t know what fresh hell 2017 has in store but evidently Tay Tay collaborated with B.O.B. at some point in the recent past and it’s gonna be real fun to deal with B.O.B. the popular musician should it come to that. What an unproblematic and unremarkable artist who has precisely zero bad opinions which he expresses loudly!

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World Hungers for Bones: Chapter 8

Nobody Writes a Letter -June 17th, 2000-

Who in their right mind decides to live in Nebraska? Not just that, but in a little you couldn’t find on your average map? Who rolls their dusty old Cadillac through town, looking for cheap accommodations at a shitty little motel called the Tempest Inn when, get this, The Gold Star Stay is right next door but the thing is condemned? Two motels. In Jonas, Nebraska. But that isn’t even the start, because besides moving to Nebraska to a little town you couldn’t find on your average map and staying at a shitty little motel called the Tempest Inn across from The Gold Star Stay, there was also a promise thrown into the mix. Oh yeah. Promise to meet up at the only burger join in town. Two motels. One burger joint. Three bars. A comic shop. Priorities were out of whack.

Anyways, right, promise to meet up at the only burger joint in town every day and go over some new spells with a skittish little twerp who fought what he learned the entire time. Yes decided she liked that best about him, but damn if it wasn’t at least a little aggravating.

But who does that? Yes had half a mind to change her name to Nobody; it suited her better. Somebody else held that epithet.

She was an early riser. Yes came up before the sun and liked it that way. She picked out amulets from a small velvet bag she kept on her person, one she’d Written all over. It gave her silver moon rings and bells on bangles and the little tiger-eye stone earrings. She dressed and brushed her teeth and looked through the Book. It was a peaceful ritual.

Yes was just about done deciding what they were going to learn that day when there was a knock on her door. A quick three tapper, soft, discreet, and gone before she had a chance to ask, “Hello?” or “Who’s there” or “Whad’ya want?” Yes closed the Book and tucked it up into her leather vest so that it made a blocky shield over her heart. Almost obscene, just snug enough that she didn’t mind.

Yes checked the peephole first but saw nothing. She rested scorched fingertips on the door for a moment. Nothing to feel, but there was that unmistakable scent of cinnamon and orange peels.

“How?” she whispered and whipped the door open.

Empty.

Yes shot her head out the door and looked left, then right, expecting a mob. He liked to send out goons before he showed up on his own. Made it neat and tidy for his arrival. But, instead of goons, there was an envelope on the floor with a small black rock placed on top to keep it from drifting away in the wind. Yes stared down at it in silence. She almost kicked it away and turned to slam the door.

“Alright,” she said the floor. “Alright, fine. You wanna go? I’ll go.”

There was a name on the letter in short, clean lines. He had her name. Nobody was the only one left who had it. He held her in those lines. He grabbed her in that ink.

Yes punted the rock away with a swift kick and dragged the letter inside. When she closed the door and locked it, she drew her wards and locked it again and again, doubling down, tripling down.

Yes stared at the envelope with her name as she sat on the bed. She’d have to read it. She’d have to face it, sooner or later. The Book’s corners dug painfully into her stomach rolls, but she didn’t move to relieve the pressure. She’d graft her skin over the Book and lock it in her chest if it meant she’d get away.

“Well,” she said, resigned, painfully tired, but read. “Shit.”

It was No’s idea to go to Burger King, of course. He said that since he still didn’t really know her and he wasn’t going to just let some stranger figure out where he lived right off the bat, they needed a place. No got a ride in a big old pick-up truck from a girl who was juts barely old enough to drive. She had dark hair in twin braids and a face that matched his. That was the unnamed oldest sister. Turned out No had a big family, which was something. Yes didn’t know why she was surprised. Maybe because she’d been an only child and many of the other witches she knew were the same. Most were only children, many had lost parents, grand parents, hell the trunk of their family tree. Lot of orphan witches. It’s how it was, she thought, but she thought wrong.

“Hey there,” said Yes, swinging her keys on a rope lanyard. “You hungry?”

“I ate,” said No, like he did every time. “Are you?”

“Nah,” she answered in kind. “You ready?”

“Ready.”

This was their routine, their ritual. Then they’d get into Yes’s caddie and drive out to the hills. No might not trust her with the location of his family, but he seemed easy enough with hitching a ride. Kids have dumb priorities.

They got into the old beast and started for the road. No didn’t have any more trouble with the door, which stuck sometimes. He knocked it with his cane and it popped open for him easy as grease. Yes had taught him the sigil for the door on their first ride and he had it down so quick, she wasn’t even sure she saw him draw it anymore.

“What’re we learning today?” asked No as he slide his hand over his chest, the closest thing he had to a seat belt. Magic would hold him better anyways.

Yes touched her pocket where the note was burning hot as fire. The thing would probably engulf her in hellfire by the end of the day. Dramatics and hyperbole, sure, but Nobody had her name and number and it was up.

“Gonna teach you something special, kiddo,” said Yes and revved the old Cadillac’s engine.

It wasn’t a long drive. Shorter still cause it was so early and no one really out on the road except a few ranch hands and busy morning people. Yes had her eyes peeled wide for anybody walking along that didn’t look like they belonged. She wasn’t a regular yet, but she was good with faces and familiar with the usual crowd. None of them were wearing black coats, none getting out of a gunpowder gray BMW, none of that familiar aroma. Her heart was pounding hard all the same.

“Are you alright?” No asked.

“Hmm?” Yes could see out of her peripheral that he was watching her, reading her. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” said No. He studied her hard and she didn’t care for that shit at all. “You keep looking around like somebody’s gonna pop out and shoot you or something.”

“Or something.”

“What?”

“Nah, nothing. It’s nothing.”

Yes wrung the steering wheel, trying hard to relax. She touched her bangles and adjusted the rings so that the smiling moons looked up. The bag had picked them for her. The bag knew what she needed, always did. Yes fingered the cat-eye earrings. Those were last. They had to be last to count.

“So, you’re alright?” he asked again, persistent.

“Sure am,” said Yes, her heartbeat thumping in her throat hard enough the artery might burst.

“Mm,” said No and bit his lip. He looked away, focusing on the road stretched out ahead of them. “Okay.”

The hill where they first met and subsequently practiced for two weeks now was a couple of miles outside of Jonas. It was technically the property of a Mr. Flowers, some rancher from Arthur, but the space was out in the open and no one had said nothing when they were there. Yes saw the hill coming up, saw No all quiet and sullen in the seat next to her, and kept driving.

“H-hey,” he said, pointing out the window as the hill came and went. When it was in the rearview mirror, he twisted around to watch it. “We…we passed it. Where’re we going?”

“Mm,” said Yes and nodded.

“You’re not gonna tell me?”

“Not yet,” she answered, and grimaced when she did. It was like she had just admitted to kidnapping.

“Why?”

“Just a surprised,” she said and gave him a small smile. It was not a confident one.

For a moment, in a crazy panic, Yes thought, hell, let’s do it. Let’s go. She thought she was going to just keep driving. She’d take them all the way across Nebraska and then maybe out west, see where the Cadillac ended and then they’d walk and hitch a ride and keep going until they found the ocean, and then beyond the ocean. She’d heard there was a way you could find Atlantis. Fine, she thought, let’s go find Atlantis. She’d already got No to trust her, she’d just take him with her and No, more powerful than she’d ever be, would protect her. He’d be by her side until the end. Nobody could never get her then.

Yes was ready to smash her foot on the accelerator and just go, go, go, but No had a ratty backpack on his lap. He dug around in it and finally pulled out a small action figure of a cowboy on a palomino. He looked at it, head tilted and nose scrunched up, before he finally sighed and said, “Jamie.”

“What’s that?” Yes asked, trying to be casual.

“It’s just one of Jamie’s stupid toys,” No answered, reverently brushing the plastic finish of the horse. “He must’ve stuck it in there the other night. We were fighting about…something.”

“Fighting about what?”

“No, it’s stupid. It’s nothing.”

“Aw, come on.”

“It’s just stuff,” he mumbled and shoved the cowboy toy back into his bag. “Dumb stuff. He’s….” No sucked in another breath and pushed it out between his teeth. “He’s the youngest, right, so he fights a lot. We fight a lot, I guess, you know. Boys. My mama always says that. The others fight too, but they like to use their words instead and it’s really mean stuff, I mean, it hurts just the same as how we fight, but, I don’t know, it’s not the same either. I mean, Ruthie will still hit, but I don’t think that’s fair. You can’t hit a girl, even if it is Ruthie, right? She’s better at her words anyhow. Meaner.”

“Lot of sisters?” said Yes.

“Lot,” No answered and scowled at the window.

No had the older sister, the girl with the dark hair in braids. And there were others, too, not said by name. Yes didn’t know how many. And then there was little Jamie, the fighter, the youngest, the one with the cowboy toy that No held carefully, like he was afraid to break it even though it was plastic. There was a big family waiting for him, this little fragile kid.

“Ssssshit,” Yes hissed, kneading her forehead into lumpy wrinkles and tight planes, back and forth, back and forth. Family. He had a family. He had to have a goddamn family, didn’t he, just to much everything up.

Yes slammed her foot on the brakes. She even threw her arm out to protect No as the Cadillac’s old breaks squealed in angry protest. They locked up and the car fishtailed a little on the dirt road, but Yes kept that nose pointed towards the horizon until they ground to a halt. The two of them lurched and fell back into their seats. Then there was silence, dragging on for a minute and then a minute more, threatening to eat up the rest of time at the rate they were going.

“What was—”

“Look,” said Yes, cutting him off, slicing the air with the side of her hand. “You’re a smart kid. You’ve got guts and you’ve got brains and you’ve got a hell of a life for you. It’s coming up fast, I just know it. I can feel it, can’t you?”

No put his claw over his heart again, paying attention to the vibrations. He was wide-eyed, almost on the verge of tears. Or, not tears, no, just shock. Maybe not even shock. Maybe just acceptance.

“I don’t have much time left,” said Yes, specifically not touching the pocket with the letter. “Not here, anyhow. In Jonas. I’ve gotta move on and keep trekking if I want a life for me too.”

“You’re leaving,” said No quietly, not desperate, but very understanding for a kid his age.

“I don’t want to,” said Yes and she took his shoulder and gave it a firm, loving squeeze. “You know I don’t.”

“Mm.”

“I don’t! Hell, I thought I was going to put roots down, almost ready to dig my toes in,” said Yes.

“Do you mean that?”

“Have I ever lied?” Yes asked, assuming it was rhetorical. No shocked her when he answered, “Yes.” Not her name. Not the name they joked about. It was an answer. She blacked, let go of his shoulder and asked, “When?”

“Today. When you said you were alright, even though you weren’t.” No looked up with his big wet eyes. “You’re afraid.”

“Oh.”

“So this is the last time I see you then.”

“I suppose,” said Yes, even as it broke her heart.

They stared out at the empty landscape. It was all yellow and brown fields scraped across the earth and beaten by wind and rain and human hands. It seemed impossible to think there was anyone out there. They could’ve just been plucked out of existence and thrown away into a void dressed up to look like Nebraska. Wasn’t that a thought? A void. Well, Nobody couldn’t go there, could he? Not to a purgatory like that. But, if that were true, if that was the way to go, Yes didn’t like it. Felt too much like giving up.

“I’m gonna give you something,” Yes said to the windshield. “It’s very important, not just for you, but for all of us.”

“All of us?”

She reached into her vest and tugged at the small book. It had once been a journal. The cover was worn and the pages were old, spotted with stains with fox-eared edges. It was thick, too, and there were little post-its tagged throughout with questions and amendments. The four previous owners never dared write in the actual pages. Yes brushed her thumb up and down the fabric of the spine.

Singing back to her through her memories, Yes could hear Dominic Velasquez say, “It’s gotta go. You carried it here and now you’re carrying it to him.”

“Who?” she had asked, her neck sore on the patch of rock in the desert.

“No,” the Two readers answered in unison and laughed hard just as the fire popped and spit little firefly embers up into the sky.

“No,” said Yes and laughed too, softer, sadder. She handed the Book to him without saying more. He took it, holding it with due respect.

Yes turned the car around and pointed it back towards Jonas. The sun wasn’t high. The radio didn’t work and the cassette in the player was jammed in good. Yes could have turned it on but decided the orchestra of wind and gravel and tires and engine played just about the best damn symphony she’d ever heard.

“W-wait,” said No, coming out of his reverie. “You’re not going to teach my anything today?”

“Nope,” said Yes. She put them into fourth gear and smiled at the sky. “I’m teaching you goodbye, I suppose.”

“I know goodbye,” said No. His fingers were white on the cover of the Book.

“I know you do, No,” said Yes.

The wind felt good in her hair. She was going to miss it like a sawn off limb.

There was another beat between them as they digested the moment, until the kid couldn’t hold it in. He doubled over, miserable in the bucket seat and Yes almost didn’t hear him.

“What was that?”

“It’s John,” he said louder.

“Oh, that’s alright.”

“Where will you go?”

He looked small. He looked younger, a little shrimp with his crutch and his big eyes and his limp hair. He was afraid when he shouldn’t be, since he now had the Book. Or, maybe he definitely should, but he shouldn’t know. Yes felt a great big stab in her heart, that empty feeling of losing the Book and the relief that came with it and the shame of that relief too. Her head was dizzy.

“I’m gonna go where Nobody won’t find me,” she said with a sad twist in her smile.

Yes topped the car outside the burger joint. She opened his door and he sat there without picking up his crutch. The Book was open to the front page with the old scribble in rusty ink: Property of Margot Telling.

“Is this you?”

Without asking, the two embraced and held on a long time. He was brimming with emotions, with questions, and Yes could only hold on a moment. It burned. Her scorched fingertips gripped him tight like they’d hold on forever, but then she let go. He sniffed and wiped his nose with his forearm. She batted her eyes quick, thankful for the round prem-o sunglasses.

“You’re gonna be good.” Yes’s voice was rough. She coughed to clear it so she could try again. “You’re gonna be good. You’re a natural.”

“Thank you.”

No got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk to watch her drive off. He didn’t wave and neither did she and that was fine. Yes stared at the filth stacked up in the back seat. There were just a few belongings that made up life breeding in the old Cadillac. It wasn’t good, but it was good enough. It had to be. Yes punched the music on and sped away, her eyes blurry until they weren’t and her cheeks wet until they weren’t.

Okay, you know where people actually plan to go? California. That’s the ticket. West coast. The witch in question hadn’t been to the Golden State in years and that highway was playing a siren’s song. She raced across it, her Cadillac the damn ship ready to crash on the rocks. When she was good and gone, she unrolled the window and let the crumpled note sail off in the wind, whipped in the wake of her car. Queen cheered her on through the speakers like the damn champion she was. And California called her too. That was the place to be until it wasn’t.

Previous - Chapter 7: Dinner At My Place

Next - Chapter 9: Cooking Lessons

#The World Hungers for Bones #witches #fiction #writing #novel #self-publishing

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