Chapter Text
Hashtag Murphy’s Law
Or Five Times Things That Can Go Wrong, Go Wrong – and One Time They Really Don’t
One – Paper Napkins
Today… today was one of those days. Isak didn’t know whose day it was, but it most certainly wasn’t his. It’d be pointless to list all the misfortunes that had already happened to him that day, but to top them all – the damn cherry on the fucking cake or… you know, in this case, the jelly on his pancakes – some dick just ran into him, barely mumbling a half-hearted Sorry, and left him with a fairly serious catastrophe on his light gray hoodie.
Now Isak was standing in the middle of the cafeteria and watched with morbid fascination how the red jelly stain became even worse as the pancake of doom slithered dramatically down his belly and fell to the ground with a splashing thud.
Awesome.
For a minute or two, all he could do was staring at it with disdain while ignoring the not so discreet snickering around him. Then, when he finally was able to move again, he blindly pushed his plate with the remaining two pancakes back onto the counter and reached for the stack of paper napkins that usually rested next to the register.
However, to his utter confusion his fingers found…none. The little box, which he could have sworn had held at least hundred white napkins mere moments ago, was now empty.
“What the…?” He turned around his own axis once, but before he could express his confusion – and annoyance, let’s be honest here – any further, there was a voice stopping him dead in his tracks.
“Oi, that doesn’t look good.” It sounded casual, innocent even. Yet, Isak was frozen on the spot, his eyes huge and his mouth agape, because there was nothing casual (or innocent) about Even Bech Næsheim. Since, well, he was just the most beautiful boy at the whole school, obviously, thank you very much. He was also kinda the boy Isak might or might not have had a slight (or massive, who are we kidding) crush on. Ever since he had laid eyes on him for the very first time almost two months ago, Isak found himself more than just a bit interested in and possibly to some degree obsessed with the new student. By now he had learned that Even was a third-year, that he had transferred to Nissen on the first day of school, and that he was passionately into movies, whatever that meant.
And yes, Isak also knew his full name, although they had never ever exchanged so much as a Halla before. That wasn’t weird. At all. (Or maybe a little.)
“Uhm…” Damn, get a grip, Valtersen, he scolded himself.
Even raised his brows and Isak’s attention was immediately drawn towards his amazing bright eyes – clear like the sea and blue, green, grey, or all at once? – which either way were shimmering with mirth and amusement.
Stop staring and say something!
“Ugh…” Something smart!!
“What…?” You’re…a hero.
Except it didn’t seem to bother Even in the slightest if his smirk was any indication. Patiently he nodded towards Isak’s hoodie. “The jelly stain. Doesn’t look good. You should try to clean it up a bit.”
“Yeah, well, I would…” A bit high-pitched maybe, but good start, keep going. “But some jerk took all the napkins, god knows what for!” And we’ve got a complete sentence, hallelujah!
“I see.” Even smiled in understanding and Isak desperately pressed his lips together to stop a sigh from escaping his throat.
“It’s your luck then,” the oblivious boy continued. “That I just happened to pass by to come to your rescue. Here, take those.” And with that Even reached for Isak’s wrist – What is air? But then the younger boy had stopped breathing altogether, anyway – and pushed something soft into his hand.
Isak’s gaze fell down on the white paper napkin, though before he could even remotely begin to comprehend what was going on, there was another one, and another, and another. While the napkins were piling up in his palm, his eyes followed Even’s hands to where they magically produced them out of his jacket pockets.
Pockets that were overstuffed with napkins.
The fuck?
“The fuck?”
Even tilted his head, those sinful lips showing a small grin that made Isak’s knees deliciously wobbly, and winked. In a very strange, unsuccessful way, which shouldn’t be a turn-on? And yet Isak was fairly sure that there were butterflies dancing samba in his stomach.
“You’re welcome.” Even said in English, and with a nonchalant wave he added, “See ya.” Only to turn around and saunter away.
“Hey man,” Jonas appeared next to him with a questioning look, and Isak almost startled with a squeal. Almost. “What was that about?”
Shaking his head (and with shaking hands), he started to rub the wadded paper against the cursed piece of clothing. “I have absolutely no idea.”