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“Even!”
He could hear Mikael before he saw him. He was in the middle of stretching, his left foot high on the bar.
He still had half an hour before the performance – his face heavy with makeup and his lungs wrapped tightly in silk. He was nervously biting his nails, a habit he kept telling himself he would lose the next day, but he never did.
He could feel his body vibrating. Waves of emotions going through him like waves on the shore, always taking and leaving something. He was drowning in the deep waters – water in his lungs .
He was trying to do the breathing exercise his therapist recommended, but it was hard to take deep breaths in that costume. Just remember – you don’t have to feel good as long as you look good ; the voices were telling him things that he did not want to hear. His thoughts not loud enough this time.
He never felt good before any of his performances ( heavy, ugly, slow ). The ribbons around his ankles almost tight enough to cut through his skin, he was slipping on the blood. His bodysuit was even tighter, another layer of skin – he could feel every little imperfection, no place to hide. No big hoodies or layers of clothes; everyone could see him, could see through him.
Insecurity is an ugly thing. It wraps you around its finger, it has full control over you. It makes you irrational, makes you stupid, makes you jealous. Your face distorted with shapes you can’t name, body like a foreign land, eyes too hard and lips dry.
And Even was insecure before any of his performances, but once on the stage, he was a star.
He loved how he could feel the wooden floor under his feet, even though his feet were hurting and the wood didn’t offer any comfort. They were burning, so he was jumping even higher.
The squealing and the cracking, the short stumping when he would land on both of his legs. He could feel it vibrating along to the music, he felt like he was in the middle of an earthquake. He was hopeless, he watched his life being decided for him and it was comforting between each breath.
Se he was standing in the middle of an earthquake, dressed in silk and cotton and the violin was playing behind his right ear. One, and two, and three, and four. Smile.
Loud and soft in a chase with his heart. His hands would start shaking, excitement bursting inside of him.
When he was dancing and the world was spinning, he didn’t hate his body. His hair wasn’t as fast as the rest of him, hitting his cheeks after each twirl. Eyes always a second behind, hands cutting through the light.
His body was weightless, he could touch the clouds if it wasn’t for the ceiling. He was drifting in the air, his own breath like cotton candy – a soft, sweet nothing, he was disappearing, he was invisible, he was transparent.
If you looked closely enough, you could see his lungs expanding, but not too much, and the blood boiling in his veins. He was living.
Maybe he never even touched the ground.
“Even, listen, the security got Isak and he almost punched one of them.”
His eyes widened and breath quickened. It was too tight, too tight. He cursed under his breath.
“Where is he?” his voice small and a little bit higher than normal.
Mikael didn’t have to respond, because Isak’s voice was in Even’s ears in the same exact second.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” Isak was shouting and kicking, trying to bite anything that went near him. Two tall men were holding him in place, arms huge and muscles bulging. Isak didn’t like to be touched by strangers anymore.
“Hey, don’t touch him,” he tried getting closer. “Please, Isak. Calm down. I need you to calm down.”
Isak was getting hysterical, he was shaking his head so fast Even thought for a second there was blood on his lips.
Oh god, Isak wore red lipstick to see his performance. Even might have cried.
Isak’s eyes were all over the place like he couldn’t concentrate on anything for longer than a mere second. But then he caught Even’s deep oceans, meandering rivers between the yellow grass of his hair. You could see this moment like it was tangible – air in his lungs.
Isak was breathing hard, but steadily, body exhausted and skin flushed. In one swift moment he got away from the security guys and crashed into Even’s hard body. He hugged him so tight his ribs cracked a little.
“You’re okay,” Even whispered into Isak’s ear, his hand slowly diving into his hair. “You’re safe now, they won’t touch you again.”
He could feel Isak nodding his head, his lungs tired after minutes of crying out loud. “Will you be okay now?”
Stupid questions, no right answers.
Isak nodded again, eyes averted to the right, arms still around him. Even cleared his throat to apologize, but he could see Mikael already talking to the security. He would let him explain everything, Mikael owed him.
Isak’s lipstick was smudged a little. He looked beautiful. He felt like home.
“I just wanted to see you dance, but they told me I can’t be here looking like this,” he put his hand on his shaved head, adjusting his leather jacket with pride. “Even, you look so beautiful.”
And Even wanted to say that no, Isak was the one looking so breathtaking his heart was racing. But he just smiled and kissed him for more than two seconds. And they were one for more than two seconds. And they didn’t care for more than two seconds.
“Go, give them a show, baby”
Each performance was a blur, from the first breath to the last one. He felt so much and his body ached a lot. His mind, on the other hand, a meadow, clouds in the distance, grass under his feet.
He was glowing.
Bursting like dying stars.
But he never felt more alive.
An explosion.
It was the last step, and Even finally had a moment to breathe. He could hear the ovation and clapping from the audience.
“That’s my fucking boyfriend!”
He smiled at that.
“Good job, everyone!” their trainer patted him on the back.
Even was smiling so wide that his makeup was already cracking. He could feel the lines on his body, his feet were a disaster. He was happy.
Only then he turned to the big mirror to wipe his makeup off. His breath hitched for a second. Another smile.
It was the same bright red on his lips.