Work Text:
#1
Isak hates LA.
He hates the way there’s always traffic to be stuck in. He hates that there are no seasons (it’s the middle of October and he wore shorts yesterday – that’s just wrong). He hates how everyone writes ‘Isaac’ on the coffee cups he gets at Starbucks. He hates that in LA it’s nine hours earlier than in Oslo. It makes nights like this lonely.
It’s been a month since he last saw Even in person and long distance is proving to be every bit as annoying as what Isak expected. Not that he’d ever thought it’d be fun. Just less – this. His brain should have gotten used to Even’s pixelated version on various electronic devices by now. The version that sometimes freezes in between telling Isak a stupid joke and whose laughter sounds less clear than usual. The version Isak can’t touch. (There might have been one time where Isak had to stop himself from putting a hand to the laptop screen. As if that even came close to the real thing.)
He hasn’t gotten used to it, though. Which is stupid and annoying and means that he misses Even. All of him, including his horrible puns, his tendency to sing along to whatever’s playing in the radio, no matter whether he knows the song or not, and his inability to wash things without destroying them. (At least none of Isak’s white shirts have turned pink. That might be the only upside to not living with Even.) He misses coming home to him after an exhausting shoot, stretching his hand out and finding Even within reach.
So, now it’s two am and Isak has a seven am call time, but he can’t sleep. He’s given up on finding a position that feels comfortable and is just lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. It’s too empty in this hotel room and he regrets that he told Even not to bring anything to decorate it with from home. The emptiness makes his brain louder, makes his thoughts race and keeps him from falling asleep. He hates it.
Isak thumps his head against the pillow once. It doesn’t stop his brain from providing him with a memory he’d rather forget: The last week that he spent with Even in LA. Even had business to do and so Isak was still able to go to work and come back home to him. He still remembers how he felt.
**
Isak’s always on the edge; his skin feels too tight around his shoulders and he can’t sit still. He needs to start weaning himself off of Even. It makes perfect sense in his head: If he gets him a little bit out of his system before he leaves, then Isak might survive the coming months better. That doesn’t mean that pulling back his fingers when they stray towards Even’s hips, his hands, his waist, is easy. It feels wrong every single time, but it’s better than the alternative, Isak is sure. Better than going from having Even all the time to nothing.
Even, in that kind, gentle way of his that makes Isak want to scream, doesn’t say anything about the way Isak’s behaving for three days. Just kisses him softly, letting Isak bite back and push and groan – do anything to shut up the voice in his head whispering You’ll lose him soon, better get used to being alone.
On the fourth day, Even breaks, and some horrible part of Isak rears its ugly head and is happy when Even says, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Isak says, fidgeting in the door way and trying to decide if putting up an act is a good idea. Maybe it’ll protect Even from Isak’s mutinous thoughts.
He waits for Even to say, “You’re a better actor than that”, for an opening to a fight because then maybe he would know how to voice the things he’s thinking and Even would understand what he’s doing, that he is trying to stop both of them from experiencing more pain later. He swallows all that, keeps his hands at his side and hears Even say quietly, “Do you – do you not want to do this?”
Isak freezes. Out of all the possible answers he expected, this is none of them. “What?”
Even is sitting on the bed, his eyes looking tired and one hand fisted in the bed sheets. He radiates unsureness. Isak hates it, hates the fact that he’s at fault for this even more. “You don’t seem to be enjoying this.”
“What’s this?” The floor is suddenly made of ice and Isak doesn’t know if he can take a step closer to Even. Even keeps quiet, just watches Isak. The bed seems miles away from. “This relationship?” Isak asks. One thought crystallises in his mind, displacing all the others from before: Even doesn’t want to do long distance. His heart is pounding in his ears, echoing the thought with every beat. Isak wants to hold onto the bed sheet, too.
Even shrugs, small and no hint of a smile. “You’ve barely talked to me, you’re always tense, and I don’t really know what to think. If you didn’t want me to come to LA with you, I could have done the business stuff at another time.” He looks so dejected, Isak ignores the ice and strides toward Even, grabbing his hands. The surprise on Even’s face hurts. As if Isak ever wants to be somewhere where he can’t touch him.
Isak strokes Even’s hands with his thumb, trying desperately to sort through the mess in his mind. Before he can answer, Even pulls him out of his head with a quiet voice, “We said we wouldn’t do the not talking about things anymore, remember?”
“Of course I remember.” Isak squeezes Even’s hands. He doubts that he can ever forget any part of the night that brought them together, more than a year ago. He breathes in slowly, waiting for the air to fill his lungs, expanding his chest and hurting for a moment. If he could talk to Even about their complicated relationship then, he can do this now. He breathes out loudly. “I always want you with me,” he begins. “I love you, of course I want you with me.” He presses his forehead against Even’s and closes his eyes. “I just – I already miss you. You’re here, but you won’t be in three days and it – it sucks.”
It seems like there is no motion at all for a moment. Isak keeps his eyes closed. Then, Even carefully puts his hand on Isak’s jaw, tugging him up and away a little. Isak blinks at him, waiting for him to tell him how stupid he is being, how Isak screwed up the last week they have together for a while. Instead, Even sends him a small smile. “You’ll come back. And I’ll be right here – well, I’ll be in Oslo – waiting for you.”
The knot of worry uncoils slightly in Isak’s stomach. His thoughts stop screaming quite so loudly. He puts his arms over Even’s shoulders. “Yeah?”
“Yes. I’ll visit you, too.”
“Who says I want that?” Isak jokes, not quite believably yet, but Even grins softly.
“You can’t get rid of me. I thought we’d discussed that.”
“I have a lot of lines to learn, I might have forgotten that.”
“That’s okay.”
Isak straddles Even’s lap and Even’s hands come up automatically to keep him from falling down. He presses a small kiss to Even’s lips, before lingering a few inches from them, just breathing him in. He’s going to miss this. Sitting with Even, not talking, just revelling in his presence.
“I’ll miss you, too,” Even whispers at some point. “But our relationship will survive long distance for two and a half months.”
Isak looks at Even, trying to find some sign of Even lying to him to stop him from worrying. All he finds are Even’s eyes, wide open and calm. Quietly, Isak asks, “How can you be so sure?”
“I just am.”
Isak brushes a strand of hair out of Even’s eyes, just for it to fall right back again. Even doesn’t stop looking at him. Isak doesn’t want him to. “Okay then,” Isak smiles. There’s still the same worry from before gnawing at him but he trusts Even. They can do this if they want to. Isak thinks he never wanted anything more.
He lets Even pull him into a kiss, relaxing into it. At some point, he topples Even backwards onto the bed, snorting as Even makes a comically surprised face. Isak crawls up the bed, nudging Even with his foot to follow him. Even just grabs his foot and turns his head to grin at Isak. Isak shakes his head slowly, smiling to himself.
“I’m probably the only person who wants you anyway, so I guess you have to stay with me even if we’re on different continents,” he says then.
“That’s okay with me.”
Isak frowns, ignoring the way his heart flutters. “You made it sappy.”
“Did you expect anything else?” Even grins.
“No,” Isak says and, finally, Even joins him at the head of the bed and kisses him again.
**
Isak shakes his head to dispel the memory and grabs for his phone. It’s eleven am in Oslo right now and with some luck Even won’t even realise that it’s too late here to write him. The last message in their chat is a picture Even sent from inside a conference room where he had been completely alone.
Did they all desert you? Isak writes and it only takes a second for Even to have read it. Isak turns onto his stomach to be able to write more easily while Even is typing.
Yes :(((( he gets back immediately. And then, shouldn’t you be asleep?
I was counting on the fact that you don’t understand time zones. Maths, you know, Isak writes back.
I don’t, but my phone does. After that, Isak gets a screenshot of Even’s background that not only proclaims Oslo time but also LA time across a pap pic of Isak, where he is holding a giant McDonalds bag in one hand.
WHY is that still your fucking background picture???
It’s you and your true love, why would I not have that as my background?
You’re so stupid, Isak writes.
Not your best insult, he gets back and two kissy emojis. Isak rolls his eyes.
It’s two am, I’m not at my best, okay.
Why are you awake?
Because I miss you, Isak thinks and doesn’t send it. Can’t sleep.
Isak’s phone starts vibrating and Isak picks up, already a smile on his lips. “Not being able to sleep is literally just saying that you’re awake and not a reason for being awake, Isak,” Even’s voice comes through the speaker. If Isak pretends hard enough it’s like he’s just in the room next to him.
Isak grins. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Before Even can ask something else, he says, “What are you doing?”
“Disappointing, I thought you were gonna ask what I was wearing.”
“As if I care about that.”
“Rude. But I’m at home and responding to emails.”
“What a glamorous life,” Isak grins. He presses the phone closer to his ear and turns around onto his back again.
“Nothing like your Hollywood life, I’m sure. Getting stuck in traffic is much more glamorous.”
Isak sighs. “Don’t remind me.”
For a moment, it’s quiet. Isak stares at the ceiling again and without thinking about it more, he says, “I miss you. That’s why I’m awake.”
“I miss you, too,” is Even’s immediate response.
Isak blinks hard. He doesn’t think it’s been this difficult to be away from home in a long time. He can’t remember when he last cared about where his home was. “Tell me about your day. Tell me what I’m missing.”
“Like a bedtime story?”
Isak laughs once. “Sure, like a bedtime story. But cool. And adult.”
“What kind of bedtime story do you want?” Even teases.
“Get your head out of the gutter, I can also hang up.”
“No, no, okay, I’ll tell you a story. Put me on speaker.”
Isak puts his phone on the (empty) bed side and turns onto his side to face it. “Okay,” he says. “Amaze me.”
“Always. Once upon a time – be quiet, you can give notes later – it was Monday. And on Monday, I had to sit through the most boring meeting ever. Seriously, Isak, it was so bad, I debated whether I could just get up and leave. The people there spent an hour talking about whether the title of the movie should have an article or not. Anyway, after that meeting, however the greatest thing happened: I met a corgi puppy, who –“
Isak lets Even’s voice lull him to sleep. When he’s already more asleep than awake, he hears, “I really do miss you, too. Sleep well, Isak.”
#2
Isak Valtersen on Life, Love and Loneliness
by Kayla Ritter
“Sorry for being late,” is the first thing Isak Valtersen says to me, before shaking my hand and sitting down across from me. He’s wearing a soft-looking red Henley, blue skinny jeans and sneakers that have seen better times; he fits in perfectly with the little restaurant he chose himself. Not too big, it gives off a charm not unlike Isak: cosy, relaxed and only findable when you know it’s there.
I tell him it’s alright and he smiles in relief. I am tempted to ask if he can recommend something off the menu, but he isn’t looking at it, instead folding his hands on top of it. Once he notices my stare, he shrugs and says, “I always get the same when I’m here. The chicken curry is great.” Before I can say anything, he adds dryly, “You can write that I’m not one to try new things. Not when it comes to food.”
We order (I go with the chicken, too) and then I ask how he found this restaurant. After all, it is not in Oslo – which he usually calls home – but in London. “Honestly, it was pure luck. The first time I came to London my friend and I were searching for something to eat and everything was full and then we stumbled across this little restaurant. It wasn’t full, so we tried it. Now, I visit it whenever I come here.”
So, does he like it because it shields him from tourists and possible fans? He laughs. “Tourists, sure, but fans – I don’t get recognised that often in London. That’s not a problem.”
I ask what it is that brings him to London. “Work,” he says. “I have a meeting tomorrow morning. I know, super interesting.” Back to Oslo afterwards? “Yes, but not for long. I start shooting a movie in a week.” He sounds a little bashful then, as if he’s still not used to being a wanted actor. When I voice that thought, he nods. “I don’t think you ever really get used to it and that’s probably good. Just imagine what kind of asshole I’d be if I assumed that all roles should go to me. I’m happy to be working and it’s always a bit of surprise when the next thing just keeps coming. It’s nice. I know how privileged I am.”
“It seems like you never stop working,” I tell him once our food arrives.
“I was literally just on holiday,” he protests. “After LA, my boyfriend and I took a long break.” In Oslo? “Well, partly. We also went to Greece. You know, to actually have a sea that isn’t so cold that you get frostbite if you swim in it.”
Such holidays seemed a foreign concept to the Isak of two years ago, who was known for working around the clock. “I never stopped.” He shrugs. “I do now, though.” I press him a little more on it, asking if his collapse on the set of Romeo and Juliet had anything to do with it. In interviews since then, he only said that he “just had to take a little break”, but never elaborated on it. He still doesn’t. “It was made clear to me that I need to take regular breaks,” he says before unsubtly changing the topic to the food, wanting to know if I enjoy it (I do).
“What was LA like?” I ask, once we’ve discussed that we both hate coriander (a tangent that we get to so quickly that I’m not quite sure what happened, even when I listen back to my tapes).
“Much the same as last time, I fear,” he grins. “Lots of traffic, lots of famous people, great craft services.” When he sees how unimpressed I must look, he laughs. “I guess that doesn’t make for an interesting story. Well, LA always gets a bit lonely. Have you ever been?”
Yes, last year for another article, but I didn’t have time to stay long. He contemplates that for a bit, saying, “I think if you live there it’s probably fine. But if your whole life is somewhere else it can feel, I don’t know, artificial? I don’t want to drag a whole city. I’m sure it’s very pretty and lovely when you’re not a little homesick.”
Does he still get homesick? “I used to not get homesick at all, but suddenly I do again. Honestly, I thought I’d left that behind but apparently not. It’s fine, usually it stops after some time.”
He flags the waiter and asks for a coffee, waiting if I want to order something else as well, but I’m good. “Any reason why you get homesick again?” I want to know.
He rolls his eyes. “You already know what I’m going to say.” Well, I know what I want him to say. He rolls his eyes again, before sighing. “I guess having someone who’s waiting at home really does make it nicer to come back.”
He’s talking about his boyfriend, Even Bech Naesheim, the Norwegian director, who he started dating on the set of Romeo and Juliet. Isak Valtersen is famously tight-lipped about his private life; the pair have only given one interview so far and aren’t often spotted together, if at all. Even Bech Naesheim likes to talk at length in interviews, praising the talents of Isak Valtersen whenever possible, sharing his own experiences with bipolar disorder and being a role model for queer youth everywhere. Where his enthusiasm for sharing his thoughts and ideas with the world seems bottomless, Isak Valtersen seems more reluctant.
I ask him how it’s been coming out and suddenly having fans thank him for doing so. He leans back in his chair, playing with the tea spoon that came with his coffee a minute ago. “Strange,” he finally settles on. “It’s strange that I’m just living my life and it is enough for others to – to find courage to live theirs.” He’s as much of a role model as his boyfriend, I say. “I don’t know about that. I’m much less into talking about all of this than he is.”
All of this? Does he mean his sexuality? “No, I quite literally mean all of this. It’s my life and I’d like it to stay that way. If what I’m doing helps someone else I’m glad and I’m happy to support causes close to my heart” - he’s talking about the fact that he recently became the ambassador for a LGBTQ youth charity – “but I’m not keen on seeing my personal life in some magazines.”
“Like this one?” I ask.
He takes a sip from his coffee, burns his tongue and after some colourful swearing, he says, “I hope you feel honoured that you get to interview me.” Then, he makes a face. “That won’t translate properly in print. It’ll sound like I’m being serious.”
I assure him that I will stress that he was joking (he was joking!), before we pay and leave. He has time for a small walk back to the hotel he’s staying in. On the way there, he tells me that he’s in the process of learning lines and that he’s at the stage where he’s procrastinating, just to “stay up much too late and then learn them.” Apparently, he does this each time and so far, it has always worked, which “is probably the reason I haven’t changed my approach yet.”
He’s a person full of dichotomies: easy to talk to, but careful about what he’s saying; unwilling to try something new to eat, but in a different city all the time to embody different roles; a perfectionist who puts his all into his work, but still too lazy to learn his text more than a week before. “Well, earlier if it’s a lot of text,” he says, “but yeah, one week usually.”
We’re interrupted because his phone rings. After a glance at the display, he sends me an apologetic look and picks up. He switches seamlessly from English to rapid-fire Norwegian. It sounds melodious, his voice getting slightly deeper than when he’s speaking English. His face is animated as he talks, and he only occasionally smiles at me as if to say ‘sorry that it’s taking so long’. I don’t understand a word of Norwegian, but he sounds happy and relaxed as he’s talking, in a way that he hasn’t been with me. Obviously, the person on the other side isn’t a reporter asking questions about his personal life.
When he hangs up, he turns to me and apologises again. “Sorry that was Even.”
“Is he in Oslo?” I want to know.
“Yes, he’s working on his own stuff right now.” Isak smiles. “But it’s fine, I’ll see him tomorrow.” And then? “Then, we’ll shoot movies closer to each other than LA to Oslo, so in comparison it won’t be so bad.”
We end up in front of his hotel soon after and he hugs me shortly. I thank him for letting me pry him with questions about his private life and he laughs. “It’s fine,” he says. “I didn’t tell you anything I didn’t want to tell you.” Somehow, I don’t doubt that at all.
#3
Isak hasn’t seen enough of Prague to hate it. That doesn’t stop him from hating the weather and swearing under his breath when he accidentally steps into another puddle. One more and his shoes are going to be completely soaked. Isak doesn’t believe in fate but if he did then he’d be dead sure that this is fate telling him to stop taking jobs away from Even. It’s not as if he’s trying to be as far away from him as possible, but apparently fate doesn’t care for his excuses.
He finally makes it to the tent that’s been put up to shield them from the rain while they wait for the cameras to be repositioned, when Even facetimes him. Immediately, Isak picks up.
“Hi,” Even grins from a sunny background. Great. Fate still loves Even. Of course.
“I hate you,” Isak tells him. “I fucking hate that you decided to film your new movie in Barcelona and then scheduled half of it in a way that I couldn’t be there. I hate you.” Fuck fate, it’s definitely Even’s fault they’re apart right now.
Even starts laughing and Isak goes and hides in the corner of the tent to not disturb the other people in here. “You love me,” Even tells him.
“You sound very confident for someone who will for sure not get a birthday present ever again.”
“LA was too hot and now Prague is what? Too cold?” Even teases.
A little lonely, Isak thinks. He doesn’t need to say it. By now, they know how long distance feels: Always like there’s a graze on his side that is fine as long as he doesn’t touch it, that he forgets for hours at a time, but whenever he brushes against it or remembers it, it starts throbbing again. So, Isak just says, “Too wet. Anyway, why are you calling, traitor?”
“Because I need to yell at a PA.”
Isak frowns. “Why?”
“He apparently leaked the call sheet, which is not great because not all the actors on there have actually been announced as part of this project.” Even’s face makes a complicated motion that Isak wants to smooth out with his fingers. He settles for widening his eyes and hoping that Even can feel his surprise all the way in Barcelona.
“What a fucking idiot. Why do you need to yell at him, though? Why not a producer?”
Even sighs. “Technically, the producers are going to tell him off, but I need to be there and I don’t want to.”
Isak wants to reach through the screen and hug him. The realisation that he can’t always leaves him slightly off-kilter, like his body hasn’t accepted that if he leans to his side Even won’t be there. It’s easier to joke, “You can do it. Do you want to practise your angry face?” Even narrows his eyes exaggeratedly, purses his lips and Isak can’t help the fond laugh that escapes him. “Great,” he smiles and knows it comes out too soft, “he’ll be so scared, he’ll never do it again.”
“I don’t want him to be scared. He just needs to know that he can’t do that. Maybe he didn’t understand the NDA he signed.”
Isak privately thinks that the kid sounds like a complete idiot, but he’s not about say that out loud when Even looks like he’s this close to sitting down with the kid and listening to what is probably going to be a half-assed justification. As if people leaked because they didn’t understand NDAs. “You’re endlessly optimistic,” Isak does say in the end.
“I know.” Even makes an unhappy face.
“It’s okay, it’s what I like about you.”
“Well, then it’s fine, I guess.” Even smiles a little. His eyes look tired, Isak thinks. He can’t wait until he’ll be in Barcelona, too.
“Did you notice how nice I was by the way? I could’ve said naïve instead of optimistic, but I didn’t. I deserve a reward.”
That makes Even laugh and Isak grins smugly. “Heroic, Isak. You’ll get a reward in person.”
“In person is in two weeks,” Isak complains.
“Yes, just two weeks. Remember, I’m the optimistic, glass half-full person.” Even’s face lights up and right. Just two weeks. They’ve survived worse.
“Places!” someone yells and Isak looks up. “I’m sorry, I have to go, but I’ll call you later. Good luck with the PA.”
“Thank you. Go and amaze them.” Even blows him a ridiculous kiss, making Isak roll his eyes. He still feels slightly warmer when he steps into the rain again. Two weeks, he thinks. Just two weeks.
+ 1
[gossipcoop.com]
Isak Valtersen Set to Star in Even Bech Naesheim’s New Film
[movie-info.com]
Even Bech Naesheim Directs Thriller with Isak Valtersen as Lead
[miss.com]
Even Bech Naesheim Casts Boyfriend, Isak Valtersen, as Villain
[buzzfeed.com]
Isak Valtersen Goes Villain in Even Bech Naesheim’s New Thriller
[isakvaltersenupdates.tumblr.com]
Isak Valtersen confirmed to appear as the villain in Even Bech Nasheim’s next film. As of now, it isn’t clear what the film is going to be about, only that it’s going to be a thriller. The film is set to start shooting late next fall, which makes it two and a half years since the couple last worked together. We’ll update this post as soon as we know more! (Info is summarised from these links: x, x, x and x.)
[tumblr.com/isak valtersen]
I AM DYING FUCK ME THIS IS THE BEST NEWS EVER #evak back together #working side by side #i’m crying
Isak as a villain!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can’t wait!!!!! #jkldldfkjdlkajsd #if he plays a murderer I am already his first victim #because I am DEAD
Isak playing a villain means that I will have some questionable fantasies about a horrible character I can already tell and I want none of you to judge me thank you #jk judge me #but also know that that won’t stop me #god he’s going to be so good #i can already feel it
Even shooting a thriller means whenever I see it I won’t sleep because he’s probably gonna make it so well I will be scared for life #can’t wait tbh #norwegian power couple out to get us all again
**
“This is nice,” Isak says, cuddling closer to Even on the couch. Even is mumbling something about how the comedy they’re watching has bad timing because he has opinions on every film genre there is but Isak doesn’t care. They’ve come home from a relatively short day on set and Even insisted on having to rid themselves of all thrilleresque thoughts (“Do you ever hear yourself talk?”) by watching some stupid comedy.
Isak just nodded, before putting his head on Even’s shoulder and yawning. In the course of the movie, he’d slung a leg over Even’s lap, curled an arm around his waist and dozed off more and more. It’s nice. He likes hearing the rumble of Even’s voice in his ears, feeling his chest rise and fall. He likes having Even close enough to touch.
“I’m glad we’re doing a movie together again,” Isak whispers, so close to Even’s ear that everything louder would probably startle Even.
“Me too.”
“Thanks for casting me,” Isak smiles and presses a kiss to Even’s neck. It’s the only part of him that he can reach without moving. It’s a lot more rewarding than waving at Even’s face through a phone screen.
“As if I would ever cast someone else when I could get you.” Even turns off the TV and lies down on the couch. Isak makes an unhappy noise, but then Even pulls him down as well, so that he can rest his head on Even’s chest. Fine, that’s nice, too.
“I missed doing films with you,” Even says into Isak’s hair. “I missed both of us being in the same place for more than three weeks.”
Isak wants to say something sarcastic, something teasing, but in the end, the truth falls out of his mouth, “It’s been hard.”
Even tightens his hold on him. “Yeah.”
“Let’s not do that again,” Isak says and doesn’t know if that’s possible. They’re both busy and Isak doesn’t want Even to feel as if he has to stick by his side and can’t leave. “Not for that long, anyway,” Isak adds, heart in his throat. It feels like he’s asking for too much.
“Let’s not,” Even agrees easily. Isak lifts himself up so that he can look at Even.
“Are you saying that you don’t want us to do so many films apart from each other?”
Even frowns at him. “Is that not what you just said, too?”
“Yes, but I don’t want you to agree to some thing I say half-asleep and then feel guilty if you wanna do a film in, I don’t know, LA. Though LA really is horrible, I stand by that.”
“I know. To be honest, I was surprised when you told that reporter that you didn’t hate the whole city. I’m sure it only sounded convincing to her because she didn’t have to listen to you bitch about everything LA for three months.”
“Two and a half,” Isak corrects without thinking.
“Felt like more.”
It’s quiet for a moment. It did feel like more, Isak thinks. And maybe that means they’re too codependent. But maybe it just means that they know what they want. “So, the next time I go to LA, you’re gonna come with me?” Isak asks slowly.
“At least for parts of it, yes.” Even puts his hands on Isak’s waist.
“I don’t want either of us to miss out on opportunities, though,” Isak says. It’s true. He never wants to hold Even back.
“We won’t. But we’ll keep an eye on how much time we spend apart from each other and we’ll try and lessen it, okay?”
“That sounds good.” Isak suddenly feels light, as if something heavy has been lifted off him. They’ll have to discuss the logistics of this some more, but for now he just keeps a hold of the feeling and lays his head on Even’s chest again.
“Wanna go to bed?” Even asks after a while, his voice so quiet that it sounds even deeper than usual.
“No, I wanna stay here and not move.”
“We can do that.”
Isak can hear Even’s slow breaths, feel it when the air from his lungs strokes over his hair. One of Even’s hands is curled loosely over Isak’s shoulder, while the other is stroking over Isak’s fingers.
It feels peaceful in a way that LA or Prague or London never did.