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Chapter Text

Mikael meets Even in his first year.

By now, he has already got his own group of friends, boys from the same neighbourhood as him, whom he attended middle school with. Elias is their ringleader, with the biggest house, whose mum makes the best food. Mikael’s known this for a while, before he and Elias even became friends, because the neighbourhood would do Eid on the green together, and it was always a scramble between the kids who would get to the Bakkoush baklava first. By now he has also befriended Adam and Mutta, so when he becomes friends with Elias, who has his own friend in tow, Yousef, the group gels easily.

And then Even.

Mikael meets him because their seats are assigned next to each other in class, and he doesn’t talk much, just taps his pen against a green sketchpad, his leg bouncing up and down. He is always full of energy. Still, there is something compelling about him, something that draws Mikael in, like he has a compass in the pit of his gut and Even is a magnetic pole, his true north. The first few lessons Even doesn’t talk much, and then one day Mikael sees him listening to the soundtrack from the Luhrmann Romeo and Juliet, and he can’t help himself.

“Baz Luhrmann?” he says, and Even looks up at him, his blue eyes wide. They settle into something softer, a smile on his face.

“He’s my favourite director,” he says, like it’s a secret.

“He just makes cliché love stories.”

Even gives him a look, almost appraising, belied by the soft smile on his face. Wonderment, almost. “You like movies?”

“I want to be a director,” Mikael tells him, though he’s not sure why. It’s not something he tells a lot of people, he has gotten enough grief from his parents about wanting to pursue something so fickle, but for some reason Even’s earnest eyes make him feel like he wants to split himself down the middle and spill all his guts onto the table. “I want to make movies of my own.”

“Me, too,” Even says. From that moment, Mikael know that they are friends.

Even slots in effortlessly with the other boys. He adores them, and they adore him, and it makes Mikael so glad, for some reason, to know he has brought another member into the fold, someone they all like. Even starts coming around to Elias’s with them all after school, and Mrs Bakkoush takes to him like he’s her own son. Mikael think she likes him the best, though he can’t really blame her. Even is polite, clears up after himself, and sometimes he hangs back in the kitchen to talk to her for a few moments when the others are migrating to the living room.

Mikael notices. Then he realises that maybe he shouldn’t.

*

Even is dating Sonja when Mikael first meets him, and it’s already been a year. They’ve all had girlfriends before, of course, but Even’s the only one who’s had a steady relationship that lasted longer than a few months. Mikael knows the others kind of admire him for that. Even’s not religious, unlike the rest of them, but there are qualities about him that Mikael sees reflected in his own faith: his kindness, his never-failing commitment to the people he loves. It’s a reason he works so well with you. Elias jokingly tells him that he’s an honorary Muslim, and Even laughs at that.

“Allah would like you,” Mikael tells Even, later, and Even glances at him.

“Yeah?” He goes a little bit squinty when he smiles wide like this, his blue eyes creasing into crescent moons.

“Yeah,” Mikael says, and then, “You know, it’s never too late to convert,” and Even gives him a jab with his pointy elbow.

They first meet Sonja when she comes to pick Even up from school one day, something about a doctor’s appointment. They are all excited to finally see her, the girl who managed to snag Even’s heart, and they’ve all been vibrating with it all day, imagining what she’s like. Adam and Mutta theorise that she’s tall and model-like, a bit like Even himself, they joke, probably way out of his league, because Even is the kind of boy to land someone like that. Privately, Mikael imagines someone a little different: smaller, less glamorous. Not fair like Even. Dark like him. Then he realises he shouldn’t be thinking like that.

The real Sonja is a lot more grounded than they’d all been spinning, but Mikael thinks that he likes her like this. She’s good for Even, who sometimes gets a little too lost in the clouds. She wears black nail polish and when she waves at them all she has lots of bracelets clinking up and down her arm.

“Sorry to borrow him,” she says, “but we need to go. Even?”

Even smiles down at her. He looks really in love. Inexplicably, Mikael’s heart does something weird in his chest at the sight. “Okay,” he says, and it’s just a word, but he says it so softly to her, and Mikael knows that he must really care about her. He turns to the rest of them. “See you guys tomorrow?”

“See you, man!” Adam says, and then they both wave and set off, Even’s arm settling around her shoulders. They all watch them go.

“Shit,” Elias says, with a laugh, “he really loves her.”

“Knew our boy was a sap,” Mutta says.

“I think it’s sweet!” Yousef defends.

“You would,” Mikael says, and then Yousef wrestles him into an affectionate headlock and for a few moments he forgets about Even and Sonja and the way his heart felt weirdly like it was going to burst out of his chest when he saw the way they looked at each other. He must have eaten something bad for lunch.

Surely, that’s it.

*

But then something changes.

Even returns to school the next day, a little dampened. He sits next to Mikael in class and Mikael notices the bags under his eyes, the way his fingers are tapping against his knees. He doesn’t take his scarf or hat off, just sits there, unseeing. Mikael asks him if he’s okay.

Even jerks a little, like he’d zoned out. “Sorry,” he says, and, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Mikael says.

Even sighs, and then leans forward. “The doctor thinks I have ADHD,” he says to Mikael, quietly. “They put me on medication. I feel kind of jumpy.” He doesn’t look at him in the eyes when he says it: he’s ashamed, Mikael realises, and he doesn’t know what to tell him that will make stop looking so embarrassed, like it’s a dirty secret, so instead he just says, “Okay, man, I’m here if you want to talk,” and Even ducks his head, gratefully.

The next few weeks are a lot of the same. Some days he’s twitchy, unable to sit still, his words coming out a mile a minute, and some days he’s lethargic, barely managing a greeting, keeping his hood up even when the teachers tell him to pull it down, the bruises under his eyes darkening. Mikael also notices he stops talking about Sonja, though sort of ironically she’s around more than ever. He sees her drop him off at school, pick him up afterwards, constantly texting him throughout the day. Even only seems to get antsier the more she appears.

Even’s meds change once, twice, three times. The first medication makes him irritable, the second makes him tired, and the third makes him both, but less so, so they keep him on it. He tells Mikael all of this, hushed, during the lesson, never meeting his eyes. Mikael knows he’s also told Yousef, who in turn tells Elias and Adam and Mutta, and together the five of them try and be there for him as best as they can.

And that’s when Mikael sees it happen.

At first, he thinks Even’s just leaning on him more, as he struggles through his different medications. Mikael doesn’t hear Sonja’s name out of Even’s mouth for weeks, and when he does it’s usually a complaint. Even’s tired, a bone-deep exhaustion Mikael thinks he could spot from a mile away, and he can tell that he is using up every last ounce of energy to drag himself to school most days. On the days he doesn’t Mikael goes to visit him and Even’s mum lets him in, and Even lying in his bed, wearing the hoodie from the day before, facing the wall. Mikael quietly says, “Hey,” and Even half-turns, and when he sees who it is something almost fragile enters his expression, like he can’t quite believe he’s there.

The next day Mikael visits with the rest of the boys. Even doesn’t speak much, just smiles a little, as Adam and Mutta regale him with a recount of their epic duel at lunch – a stunt that landed them both in detention, though even Mikael can admit it was definitely worth it – but Mikael notices that even as the others chime in and tell their own stories, Even’s eyes never venture from him for longer than a few minutes.

And he thinks, oh, no.

He isn’t stupid, and he knows the others aren’t either. Even is bright and loud and colourful and he fixates in a way only an artist can, like he’s trying to turn a person inside out, read the lining of their skin, pin them up in every shade so he knows how to capture them, immortalise them. Mikael sees – saw – it with Sonja, how for months, years, every page in Even’s sketchbook was her, her hands, her smile, her eyes, how every film he made had an element of her in it as well. Even lives and Even loves like a firework.

So when it shifts away from Sonya – when it shifts to him – he notices.

Mikael knows the other boys have, too.  Even never does anything quietly. He knows it’s not hard to see. No one says anything, not even as they leave, and a knowing silence descends for a few moments, because they know it won’t amount to anything; because they love Even, but they have all read a Qur’an.

Except—

The weird pit Mikael had in his stomach, when he used to see Even and Sonja together. It’s come back, and now it feels even deeper, like someone is shovelling him from the inside out. He remembers the first time he spoke to Even, how easily he would have cracked open his ribcage and spilled his viscera on the table in front of him if he asked. How in everything, Even was there. It was always him.

That night, Mikael gets on his knees, and he starts to pray.

*

Even gets worse.

He’s been loud, erratic, twitchy, for the past few days. He’s speaking faster, and most of it is nonsensical. Even always lives dangerously close to explosive, as though has to fill every day to its full potential, chases changes in the wind and gets on wrong trains to see where they will lead. Mikael has always let him, always been with by his side: followed him after every breeze, trekked with him to the other side of Oslo. (He tries not to think about that, too much.) It’s just Even.

But this. This is not Even.

At lunch, he sits, peels his grapes, one by one. Then he can’t stop peeling them, and then even after the dark skin has come off, he keeps picking at the green flesh underneath, until all his grapes have been torn to shreds. He starts picking at everything he holds: first, his grapes, then his pens, until they snap and bleed black ink all over his fingers, and then his own skin. Mikael tries not to think anything of it (you’re being too obvious, you’re caring too much) until in PE he sees that Even’s knuckles are blistered scarlet, his nails crusted in blood.

Mikael pulls him aside, urgently asks if he’s okay. Even looks at his fingers like he hadn’t even been aware that he was picking at them, and Mikael feels a pit form in his stomach.

*

One day, Even doesn’t show up to school. Mikael tries not to worry, but he can’t help it: Even’s not responding to his text, to anyone’s texts. He’s missed school before but he’s always let them know why. Mikael knows something isn’t right.

Then, at the very end of the day, he gets a message from Even: Meet at the skate park?

“What did I say?” Adam says. “I knew he was all right.” They all pretend not to hear the relief in his voice, only because Mikael knows that all of their hearts are pounding a similar tune. He doesn’t know what he expected, but to hear from Even, after what feels like the longest day this year, eases something in him.

“Tell the old fart that we miss him,” Elias says. “And to come back to school!”

The others cheer. There’s still something nervous about it, but they’re putting on a show. As if they’re trying to comfort him.

For the first time Mikael wonders if they’ve noticed more than they let on.

*

Even is sitting at the very top of the ramp when he arrives at the park.

It’s somewhere they used to come to a lot, during second year, when Adam got into boarding. There’s another skate park, closer to Bakka, but this one, a few minutes from Nissen, has the best ramps. They’d all sit on the side, legs hanging down, watching him. Mikael remembers Even sat next to him, their thighs pressed together, his mouth wide, face ecstatic. Adam would kick-flip, for a second suspended in the air, like time would freeze around him, and Mikael would glance at Even, watch the blue of his eyes instead.

It makes something inside him twist, to see Even now, hunched in. He is normally so big. Those eyes now are greyer than they are blue: they match the sky, pregnant with rain, and so very large.

Mikael sits next to him wordlessly, leave a finger space between their legs. For a moment, he is tempted to lay the breadth of his hand in it, feel the press of both their legs either side. But he doesn’t. He tucks them under his thighs; keep to himself.

“Hey,” Even says. He is more subdued than he has been for days, but his fingers are still bloody, taped up. There are stains on the knees of his jeans.

Mikael says, softly, “You weren’t at school today.”

“I was at the hospital.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Not really,” Even says, pulling at the tape around his fingers. His nails are crusted in blood.

He doesn’t elaborate, so Mikael says, “Were your parents there?”

“And Sonja.”

“How is she?”

“I don’t know.” A pause. “I think she might break up with me.”

Mikael's heart thunders. “Why?”

“It wasn’t good news,” Even says. For the first time since sitting down, he glances at him. The sky darkens his eyes, makes them wide and grey, like marbles. Mikael think he can see the clouds reflected in them, and suddenly, he realises just how close their faces are. “I don’t think she’ll stick around.” Darkly: “I wouldn’t blame her.”

Mikael has never seen him like this. “Even, are you okay?”

“I wish I could stay here forever,” Even says. “Just be alone. Just me.” Treacherously: “And you. If you want.”

And when he kisses him, it feels like an inevitability. His true north.

*

Except it doesn’t work like that.

Even smells of tin and weed and charcoal; their mouths are warm against each other; Mikael’s heartbeat is somewhere in his ears. For a few moments he feels as though they are suspended in mid-air.

And then he realises what they’re doing.

He pulls away, and he immediately see in Even’s eyes that he knows. Suddenly it’s still too close so he stands up as well, back away. It’s all wrong. The sky is beginning to start to crack. There is gravel caught in his heart line. Probably also a metaphor. He has kissed a boy.

He doesn’t mean to, because everything in his head is scrambled, but he hears himself say, “Why did you do that? I’m not like you. I’m not wrong.”

He sees Even’s mouth track wrong, belatedly. Then he realises he shouldn’t be looking at his mouth. What just happened? Everything has gone bad. Mikael feels the sky split, slowly. Feels the beginning of rain on his shoulders.

“I have to go,” he manages.

Repent. Pray. Beg for forgiveness. Hope that he can go to sleep and forget this ever happened, forget he now knows what it’s like to kiss another boy.

“Mikael,” Even says.

Mikael turns on his heel without so much as a second glance and tries to ignore the sob Even lets out behind him. Tries to ignore how it splinters his heart in his chest.

*

The Bakka Facebook wall has never had so much activity, before.

Mikael watches it like he would watch a car crash, in slow motion. There are texts from the boys: what’s going on? Are you seeing what Even is posting? What happened?

Even his prayer mat can’t give him the solace he craves. He puts his head between his hands and waits for the storm to stop.

*

Even doesn’t return to school.

Mikael has never hated himself so much.

*

He is in the park when he sees Sonja again. The boys are playing a half-hearted game of tag rugby, though no one seems to be into it – they have all felt Even’s absence like a brand. They are listless, anxious. Then he hears Adam says, “Sonja?” and he looks up and she’s coming right towards him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she shouts as soon as she is close enough, and for a moment Mikael thinks, she knows. Then she says, “If he doesn’t survive I’ll never fucking forgive you.”

And then he realises that he is are selfish, because this has never been about just him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he means it. What else is there to say?

*

They all try visit him in the hospital, but Even refuses to see them. Mikael, especially. His mum comes out of his room, she is pale and shaky, though he can’t blame her, and says, “He says he doesn’t want to talk to Mikael.”

To Mikael. It hits him what he has done. This is his fault. Elias says, “What about the rest of us?”

“I’ll go ask him,” she says, though Mikael knows it’s mainly out of politeness, because there’s no way Even doesn’t know that the rest of them are there as well. She walks back into the room and he is hit with nausea, at what happened, at what he has caused, and he hunches in, folds himself up tightly so his ribs don’t cave in on themselves. Then Yousef puts his arm around his shoulders, tight, and Mikael lets out a shuddery breath, and he lets Yousef hold him together.

“He’ll be okay,” Yousef says, but he has no way of knowing that, so instead Mikael tries to focus on breathing.

Even does not want to see any of them, and his mum gives them all a sad, tired look. Mikael recognises the exhaustion on her face from Even, all those weeks ago, jumping from medication to medication, slowly getting cagier and cagier as everything closed in around him. Mikael wishes he could take it all back. He would do so many things different. “Thanks for stopping by, boys,” she says, quietly. “We appreciate it.”

“Is he okay?” Yousef asks her.

Her eyes fill with tears. “We don’t know.”

Mutta breaks, in the car park, and they all sit around him as he collapses and cries. Mikael has no tears left, anymore.

*

Gradually, they all move on.

At the beginning Mikael feels Even like a phantom limb. They often fell to pairs in a group the size of theirs, Elias and Yousef, Adam and Mutta, and then Mikael and Even, and not having Even there feels wrong, disjointing, like he is trying to keep moving without a leg. Even was his best friend. Without him, he feels lost.

But Even ignores all their texts, refuses to see them every time they visit the hospital. He makes it pretty clear: he doesn’t want to speak to them. So, finally, they stop trying.

Mikael knows that the boys have caught on that something happened between the two of them, before Even’s attempt. He thinks that they may have even pieced together that he played a part in it, that maybe he was the reason Even posted all those things on Facebook. The reason he snapped, he thinks. People have been talking in school about it, did you hear what happened to him? He went crazy. You know he tried to kill himself? They’ve all been looking at him, all of them, like they’re trying to read it on their faces. Mikael knows it’s just because they were Even’s friends but something shameful and blistering inside his stomach makes him think that it’s because they know, they know that Even kissed him and Mikael freaked out, know that he’s the reason Even isn’t coming back to school.

It’s all his fault.

Mikael doesn’t tell anyone so it sits with him, something ugly and malignant. He carries it around like a stone in the pit of his gut. He doesn’t know if he can ever tell anyone. It’s too shameful. The boys seem to realise because they don’t push him: Even is a bruise for all of them, but they recognise that he has tunnelled into a tumour for Mikael especially, something they don’t even want to begin to prod at, so they simply leave it. They don’t ask him about what happened. Some days he wishes they would. He wants to purge it out of his system, confess, admit that it’s his fault, the reason Even tried to fucking kill himself is because of Mikael. He finds he can’t even pray anymore: he mechanically performs wudu and gets down onto his prayer mat but then the words stick in his throat and he can’t speak. Even has buried his way into him, into every orifice in his body, and he cannot shake him off.

Most days he just wants to scream. He can’t even imagine how Even feels.

One day Mikael is putting his books in his locker when he becomes aware of talk behind him. It is simply white noise until he hears his name, and he straightens. They’re talking about Even.

“It’s just so sad,” a girl is saying, “did you see all the stuff he was posting?” She says it detachedly, because Even is simply a Facebook profile to her. “I heard he tried to kill himself.”

“He’s totally crazy,” her friend agrees. “No one just flips out like that unless they’ve got serious mental issues. Something clearly wasn’t right.”

He stares unseeingly into his locker. His fingers are numb. He thinks he is shaking.

Then, from next to him, he hears a locker slam, and when he looks up, Yousef is standing there, looking concerned. “Are you okay, man?” he says, softly. There’s a telltale clench in his jaw: he heard them as well. There’s no way he couldn’t, they were talking too loudly. And if it wasn’t them, he would have heard it from someone else, because Even has been the main topic of everyone’s conversations, recently. Mikael looks down and realises he has curled his hands into trembling fists.

He unfurls them, slowly, and whispers, “He kissed me.”

Yousef’s face doesn’t change. “When?”

“In the skate park. The day before.”

“Oh, Mikael,” Yousef says, and he pulls him into a hug. Mikael goes, willing, presses his face into Yousef’s shoulder and wonder when it will all stop hurting.

*

They graduate without Even.

It’s been months, but it still hurts.

*

Elias’s sister is working at the table when they all pile into the kitchen. Mrs Bakkoush good-naturedly swats at them with a teatowel and tells them to get out of her cooking space, and then Elias squeezes her around the shoulders and kisses her on the cheek as Adam earnestly tells her that the baba ghanoush she made the other night was the single best thing he’d ever tasted. Mrs Bakkoush rolls her eyes but she’s flattered. Adam has a way with mums.

Mikael glances at Yousef and notices the way he is staring at Elias’s sister. He elbows him and he glances back sharply, so Mikael raises his eyebrows, and Yousef simply rolls his eyes, shoving him off. Yousef is so transparent; Mikael knows he likes her. Besides, by the way she keeps glancing over the top of her laptop screen, he doesn’t think it’s wholly unreciprocated.

“Mikael!” Elias calls, “get us some cups, will you?”

“Manners, Elias!” Mrs Bakkoush chides. “He is your guest.”

“Sorry, Mama,” Elias says. To Mikael, “get us some cups, please?”

Mrs Bakkoush rolls her eyes so hard he is surprised they don’t roll right out, but Mikael just laughs, because privately it makes him feel as though he is at home, here, being bossed around, having banter. This easy comradery between them is what he treasures most about their friendship, he thinks.

Elias’s sister is absently scrolling through Instagram on her laptop when he edges behind her for the cupboard. He doesn’t mean to look at her screen, but his eyes accidentally catch a glimpse – and his blood goes cold.

She’s paused at a photo, of a blond boy he doesn’t recognise, grinning at the camera. She likes it and starts typing out a comment but he’s not focused on that, he’s focused on the other person in the picture, the person kissing the boy’s cheek in a hat that used to be his.

It has been a year, but Mikael would know that face anywhere.

Chapter Text

A lot has changed, since Mikael last saw Even.

The five of them have healed over in the place he used to be, but not neatly: they all kept picking at it, never letting the skin underneath knit together before they peeled the scab off. Mikael thinks about Even less and less as the days turn into weeks, but never completely.

In the dead of the night, when he is lying in bed and his chest is tight and he feels like he can’t breathe so instead he recites his prayers and tells himself to inhale, he sometimes remembers how it felt when Even kissed him. It has never been that way with a girl.

Even breaks them apart, and they manage to piece each other back. For a long time, though, Yousef drifts. He has always cared about people, Elias jokes that he has picked up maternal instincts from his time working in the kindergarten, and Mikael knows that if there was anyone who was hit as bad as him by what happened, it was Yousef. Mikael spends a lot of time on his knees, the weeks following. Wudu has never felt as important as it did then: scrubbing every inch of what happened off of him, every piece of shame at what he caused. Yousef does not.

He tells them all, over lunch, that he doesn’t think he’s going to do Eid this year. “Why not?” Mutta says. “Are you on your period?”

They all snigger, but they sober quickly when Yousef doesn’t join in. He just sits up, uncomfortably, says, “I’m not sure I really believe in Allah anymore.”

Mikael will give him this: he looks them all in the eyes as he says it. Mikael could never be that brave. He couldn’t even look at Even when he told him that he shouldn’t have kissed him. Elias frowns, but gently. They have all gone through their faith together, but Mikael knows that they do not all wear it the same. If Yousef does not believe in Allah, then they cannot change his mind. “Why not?” Elias says.

Yousef shakes his head. “I don’t know if I want to be part of what drove Even to do what he did.”

Mikael’s heart thunders. He remembers the picture on Elias’s sister’s laptop, of Even, kissing the cheek of a boy. “But that wasn’t just religion,” Adam says, “Even was sick.” They have all realised that much, at least.

“He was sick for a long time before,” Yousef says, gently, and Mikael knows they don’t mean to, but the boys all then glance at him, and he feels his heart pound in shame. His fault. “I don’t know if I want to be part of something that hurts people.”

Elias just nods. “Okay,” he says. Then, uncharacteristically soft, “We’re with you, yeah? Whatever you do.”

Yousef nods at him gratefully.

Mikael can’t stop thinking about the picture.

*

Elias’s sister is called Sana and she’s actually pretty cool.

They all end up talking, when she comes to give Elias his keys at the gym. They’ve all been working out recently, out of nothing to do during their gap year: Mikael finds it therapeutic, to mechanically lift weights and count reps, let his mind wander without consequence. He sees the other boys eye up Sana’s friends, who have come with her, so he does too – they’re hot, he guesses, but he knows he’s only thinking it objectively because they are too.

That’s also been a pressing issue, for a long time, longer than he cares to admit, unearthed by that fucking picture, which he hasn’t managed to get out his head since he saw it, but one breakdown at a time.

They end up going to a party with the girls the next night. Mikael has a good time: he forgot how great it is to party with high schoolers again, who are still just as raucous and uninhibited as he remembers being in third year. He doesn’t really drink but he still loses himself in the music, laughing hysterically as he watches Adam try to flirt with a second-year by the door.

There are two girls, part of Sana’s squad, whom he’s seen kiss throughout the night, the perky blond and the redhead. Something clenches in his stomach when he sees them peck on the train, and then again, when he catches them making out across the room. Eventually, the blond, Vilde, he learns, ends up on the couch next to him, drunk off her face, yelling at him over the music.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he says, because he has to know, because it’s rubbing at something inside him that he hadn’t still realised was raw.

Vilde just giggles. “We just make out sometimes. I’m not gay.” She lolls against him, happily, her blond hair in his face. “Not like Isak! Isak is gay. Isaaaaak. I should talk to Isak.” She hiccups, leans in, presses her mouth clumsily against his ear. “Do you want to know a secret? I think I might actually be a little bit gay. For Eva. Like Isak and Even.”

Mikael’s heart stops. “Even?”

But Vilde is gone. “Evaaaaa. She’s just—so pretty. And she’s the best kisser. And...”

It can’t be his Even. It can’t.

But then he remembers the picture on Sana’s Instagram feed. It could absolutely be his Even.

Though Even’s not his. Not anymore.

*

Sana has invited Elias to a karaoke bar, and Mikael’s pretty sure the only reason they all go is so Yousef can talk to Sana. It was cute at the beginning but now they’re all getting twitchy, even Elias, who they’d all thought would be the against it most.

“Against it?” Elias repeats, when they all tell him of this. “He doesn’t drink and he helped that lady across the street the other day. He’s the only one good enough for my sister.”

This brings up another wave of protests: “fuck you, what about me?” Mutta demands, and Mikael says, “Never, you’re too ugly” and Adam wrestles him into an headlock and tells him, “You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that when you look like someone backed over you in a truck”, and Mikael sort of forgets all about the karaoke bar, until Elias texts the groupchat later that they should meet at the station and all go in together.

They’re late, predictably, because Mutta distracts them and they miss their stop, so by the time they arrive the party already seems to be in full swing. Mikael can hear music and laughter coming from inside, and he sees Elias pull out his phone to text Sana that they’re there.

It’s extremely crowded, filled to the brim with kids Mikael vaguely recognises from the party at the beginning of the year. Sana’s friends are scattered across the room, peppered in between faces he doesn’t know, and they’re all laughing and giggling, most of them probably a little drunk. There’s a John Lennon song in the background, everyone is singing along, and he finds himself humming it as well, until then in front of him Elias stops, abruptly, and Mikael runs into his back.

“What?” he says. He doesn’t really expect Elias to have heard him over the music but then the singing stops, just as abruptly, only for a moment, and he feels a pit form in his stomach because he suddenly thinks he recognises that voice, so he pushes up, look over Elias’s shoulder, at what he’s staring at—

And his eyes land on Even.

Even, after a year of silence, a year of evaded texts and missed phone calls, of sleepless nights as Mikael stared up at his ceiling and wished it was fucking him instead. Even is stood in front of them, at a fucking karaoke bar, of all places, holding a microphone, staring at them like he’s just seen a ghost.

And Mikael dared to have the fucking nerve to think he was over him.

After so long Even has become more of an abstraction in his memory, and looking at him now feels like a mirage more than anything. Taller, slimmer, but in the same denim jacket that Mikael remembers seeing strewn on the backs of chairs. He’s styled his hair different, up instead of down, and he looks really good. He’s holding a microphone and he’s singing, he’s the one who’s singing John Lennon, but his eyes keep flickering back at them, his face growing more and more ashen, and then Mikael realises if it’s hard for himself, he can’t even begin to imagine how fucking hard it must be for Even.

Even’s voice falters, a little, and for a few moments Mikael thinks he’s going to walk off, stop the music and walk right out, out of their lives again like he did a year ago, when suddenly someone joins him onstage, a boy, with blond hair. The boy from the Instagram post. Mikael is under no illusions to what their relationship is, he has turned that picture over and over in his head for too long to think that it was in any way just friendship, but seeing the way the boy moves to Even, seeing the easy, natural way he slides a hand up Even’s back, leans in to join him in the microphone, feels like being struck with lightning.

It is so, so much clearer in reality. Mikael feels like he cannot move.

Some boys sitting at the front start singing along as well, waving their hands, and soon the entire room is alive with it, swaying and cheering. To Mikael’s left, the redhead from the party, Eva, is clinging to a man with bleached hair, and they’re both drunkenly shouting the words at each other, and Mikael looks back at Even, and the boy, and his heart twists painfully at Even’s smile, just how he has so obviously relaxed with this boy next to him, this boy who has his arm around his waist in front of a roomful of people, a boy who saw what Mikael did to him, and stood up to sing with him.

From behind him, Mikael feels Yousef squeeze his shoulder. He doesn’t know what to feel, come face to face with the cavern in his brain for the first time in over a year.

The song ends, and everyone cheers. Eva turns and plants a wet sloppy kiss on the cheek of the man she was dancing with, then turns and kisses Vilde properly on the mouth. Onstage, Even puts his arm around the boy, reels him in for a kiss on the cheek that makes Mikael’s heart momentarily stop beating. The boy then kisses him back in return, and something inside Mikael twists. Even looks so happy, his eyes shining, radiant in the same way Mikael remembers him being around Sonja at the beginning, but there’s something different now, something mature. They both cling to each other casually: not like they are drowning, and wanting to stay afloat, but because they look like they want to, because they want to be close.

Mikael could have had that. More importantly, Even does have that, even after what he did to him.

He is so much braver than Mikael could ever be.

Then Even’s eyes shift, land on the group of them, still at the back, and something in his eyes shutters a little. He turns to the boy, says something into his temple, and the boy’s eyes flick to them as well. His eyes are narrowed, suspicious, a small firecracker next to Even. Even squeezes him around the shoulders, Mikael jaggedly tracks the movement with his eyes, and then swallows, and disappears off the side of the stage, out of the fire escape. Mikael’s feet are moving before he can even stop them.

The boys are right next to him. “Where did he go?” Elias says, as they push through the swathes of people for the entrance.

“Outside,” Mikael says. They are all moving as one. Even cut himself out of their lives like they were a tumour, like he was the tumour, and after so long Mikael can’t let him disappear again, not without an explanation. Coming outside is like a breath of fresh air from the cram of the bar, and his eyes struggle to adjust to the bright sunlight. When they do, they land on Even, stood a few feet away, looking down at his hands. He is too far away for him to see his face but this is not who Mikael remembers following to the end of Oslo on whims. He looks more like the boy with the bloody fingers and stained jeans in the skate park. “Even?”

He looks up, his face flattens, a little. Puts his hands in his pockets, a nervous tick that he’s still held onto. His expression is so tentative. “Hey,” he says, softly.

For a few long moments, they just stand there, blinking at each other in the sunlight. Even fidgets, hand in pocket, hand out, in the back pocket, into the hair. Mikael feels like he has so much to say to him. Why did you cut us off? Are you okay? Who is the boy? Instinctively, he turns to Elias, feels the others do the same. He is their unspoken leader, but even he seems lost for words. Mikael sees him open his mouth, then close it, lick his lips. Finally, he says, “Long time no see.”

Even huffs out a laugh. He looks so scared. Is this what they did to him? Is this what he was hiding from them in that hospital room? “It’s been a while,” he says.

“You look good.” Elias is good at things like this. There is a reason they all look to him.

“You as well,” Even says, softly.

A long moment. And then Elias strides towards him, and, to everyone’s surprise, pulls him in for a hug. Even’s eyes are wide over his shoulder. “We missed you, man.”

There is a very long pause before Even hugs him back. They all take the hint, approach carefully. When Elias and Even separate, Even’s eyes are a little wet. He looks at all of them like he can’t believe they’re here, like it hurts that they’re here, like he wants and hates they’re being here, and Mikael opens his mouth to speak.

He knows that he shouldn’t push him, that he needs to move away, that Even is more freaked out than he could possibly be, but there is a year and a half of resentment and confusion and tension thrumming through his veins that makes him keep going, puts a hand on his shoulder. It is not fair, on either of them, because just feeling his heat through his jacket brings Mikael back to that rainy afternoon in the skate park, Even’s warmth against his mouth, but Mikael has always been a little bit selfish. He looks into Even’s eyes and he sees that he is afraid, but not in the way he remembers. They are both very far removed from those scared boys from a year ago.

Distantly, Mikael is aware that he needs to back off, because Adam is pulling at his arm, telling him to give Even space, but for some reason Mikael isn’t listening, he is surging forward, Even needs to listen to him, he needs to know how fucking sorry he is, how everything was his fault and if he could he’d take everything back in an instant, how there were nights when sometimes he wished that it was him in the hospital instead, how it was something he deserved—

Then out of nowhere there is someone else in the throng, a few other someone elses, but he is only focused on the one, because this is the blond boy, the one who held Even’s waist and kissed his cheek in front of an entire room like he was something precious because he isn’t a coward like Mikael was, and he’s getting in between the two of them, demanding, “What the hell are you doing?” and suddenly Mikael looks at Even and realises he’s staring at him, realises that he is suffocating, he needs to step away, all Mikael does is hurt him, but before he can there is a fist swinging into the side of his face.

It’s a bad punch, it barely glances off his jaw, but Mikael is stunned, and for a few moments there is shocked silence, like a moment in a song where the music cuts out before it crashes in again for the last chorus. He looks up, realises it was the blond boy, who is staring down at his own fist like he can’t quite believe what he did, and then suddenly Elias pushes forward and hits him across the face too, and there it is, his final chorus.

One of the blond boy’s friends shoves him and then Sana is there, pulling Elias off, and Mikael doesn’t know what just happened. His face stings. He looks down as Mutta drags him away and he sees that Elias’s fists are red and bloodied, and he knows he shouldn’t, but he glances over his shoulder, and Even is by the blond boy, whose eye is swelling with blood all over his face. Even looks up and meets his gaze.

For a split second, Mikael thinks he is going to come after him. But instead, Even just looks back down at the boy, curls a protective hand around his shoulders.

The message is very clear.

*

The blond boy is called Isak. He is Even’s boyfriend, and Sana won’t look at any of them.

Mikael didn’t know a lot of things, before. He was selfish, though he thinks he’s been that way for a long time.

All this time, he only thought of himself. In Even and what Even did to him, what he did to Even, how it hurt him, how that hurt Even, it is always about Mikael. Sometimes in his darkest moments he has prayed to take Even's place: but he never thought what it was like to be Even, who stood in his bathroom with a bottle of pills and looked in the mirror, who hated what he saw enough to swallow the entire bottle’s worth.

What Mikael does know is that he is sure Even will never speak to him again. He had come to terms with that a long time ago, but seeing him again has reopened all wounds he thought were healed.

The fucking nerve he had, to think that Even no longer mattered.

*

A week later, they are sat in the Nissen skate park watching Elias turn his phone in his hands.

He texted them all on the group chat, to meet him here. Mikael hasn’t been back since Even kissed him: it is a lot smaller than he remembered. He is sat on the edge of the ramp, where Even sat, and he looks up at the sky, which is blue and shining, and presses his hand down into the concrete next to him, like he is trying to print himself into it. The gravel is loose and sticks to him, and he remembers the way it clung that day, the way he climbed onto the train, put his head between his knees, and had a panic attack, clawed at his own hands and tried to get it out of his palms. Today, it takes no more than a brush and it’s gone.

“Is everything okay?” Yousef asks Elias, once Mutta has arrived. (He was late, as usual.)

Elias turns his phone in his hands twice more before he says, “I’m gonna call Even.”

Mikael’s eyes flick up. “What?”

Elias tells them what Sana told him: that Even has been asking about them, that she thinks he misses them. That he’s so sorry for what happened at the karaoke bar, that he never meant for it to get that out of hand. That Isak is sorry, too. (Mikael finds this less believable, but he thinks he has forgiven Isak, in the times he’s turned him over in his head. All he did was what Mikael was never brave enough to. If he were Isak, he thinks he would have done the same thing.) That she thinks Even would like it if they called him.

“Are you going to do it?” Adam says.

“I think so,” Elias says, though Mikael thinks he probably knows so, or he wouldn’t have brought them here. “The least we can do is hear him out.”

“I missed him,” Yousef says, quietly.

Elias nods. “Me too,” he says. He speaks for all of them on this. “And—I guess if anything, I need to apologise to Isak.” He still sounds a little reluctant about that.

They sit around him as he scrolls through his contacts, rings Even’s number. It makes Mikael’s heart pound in his chest. He never deleted Even’s number, either, but he didn’t allow himself to look at it. Knowing that he still had one last tether to him was something that he didn’t want to think about too hard, either as a good or a bad thing.

The phone rings once, twice. For a long moment Mikael thinks Even isn’t going to answer, and his heart sinks: that he’ll ignore the call, like he did all of them a year ago. But then, on the third, he picks up. “Elias?” he says. He is on speaker so they all hear him, and just his voice is enough for Mikael’s heart to ache. He sounds almost tentatively hopeful. Mikael can hear a faint banging from his end, like the clattering of pans.

“Hey, Even,” Elias says. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s okay. Isak is just washing the dishes.”

“Date night?” Elias is trying so hard to keep it casual, like old friends. Mikael knows Even recognises and appreciates the olive branch, because when he next speaks, he can hear the small smile in his voice.

“Sort of. We, uh, live together.”

Adam’s eyebrows crawl into his hairline. Mikael sort of feels the same way: Even’s nearly twenty but Isak looks like he can’t be older than seventeen. But then he thinks about it, the way Even devotes himself so entirely, the way Isak threw himself in between them like a hand grenade. Maybe this isn’t so surprising.

“Lucky,” Elias says, simply. “I still live at home. What’s it like with so much freedom?”

“Not as tidy.”

“But you’re doing good, yeah?”

Even’s voice is so, so soft when he says, “Yeah, we are.”

Mikael doesn’t know how long they are all sat there, watching Elias talk on the phone. None of them say anything, because he knows that Elias is the best at this, but simply listening to them eases something in him, provides a balm to whatever is rubbed raw in him that he hadn’t still realised was festering. They don’t talk about anything properly important, not Even’s attempt, or his transferral, or his hospital stay, and they only mention the fight briefly: “Isak is sorry,” Even says. “Can you—can you tell Mikael that?” None of them miss the way he stumbles over Mikael’s name.

Elias glances at Mikael. “Yeah,” he says, softly, “I will. Sorry too, for hitting him. Is he okay?”

“He’s a little bruised. But we’re okay.”

Mikael doesn’t think he’s just talking about Isak.

“But how is Mikael?” Even continues. “Is he—okay? From the fight?”

Elias snorts. “Your boy barely grazed him.”

Even laughs at that. “Shame. That’s sort of Isak’s greatest achievement. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

“Mikael walked away completely unscratched.”

Even’s voice is a little soft. “That’s good.”

Now he doesn’t think they’re just talking about the fight. Elias smiles gently at him.

“Will you tell him?” Elias says to Even.

Even hums, a little. “No,” he decides. “I’ll let him have this.” He speaks so kindly of him. He has always worn his heart on his sleeve. For the first time, Mikael is hit with the startling realisation that whatever Even felt for him, it was nothing like this. It saddens him, for a moment – and then he realises that maybe it doesn’t. He is glad, after everything they have both gone through, he got his happy ending.

They only talk for a while longer before Even says he has to go. “We’re watching a movie,” he says. “Friday night tradition.”

“Is it something romantic?”

“Pretty Woman.”

“I would have guessed that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Predictable.”

They are both smiling. After all this time, they still have something.

“Are you going to Eva’s party?” Even asks. Mikael knows that all of them have been invited, Sana relayed the invitation to them. She put a big show on about how she was irritated, I don’t want my brother around my friends, but then her face softened when she looked at Yousef, so Mikael knows it was mostly a front. Still, they all weren’t quite sure if that was still on the table, after the karaoke bar.

“Not sure,” Elias says.

“It’d be nice, if you did.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We could hang out, maybe.”

“We’d like that,” Elias says.

“Me, too.”

The call ends. Elias puts the phone down, and then puts his face in his hands and starts to cry. They wrap their arms around him, and they all cry with him.

Mikael hasn’t cried over Even in a long time, and it feels good, knowing that this time will probably be the last.

*

At Eva’s party, Elias gives Even a hug in greeting, so the rest of them do, too. Mikael goes last, wryly thinks there’s something kind of symbolic in that. When he pulls away, he sees in Even’s face that he does, too, and they both smile.

“Pretentious,” Even says.

“Meaningful,” Mikael corrects, and Even’s face goes so impossibly soft. He squeezes Mikael's shoulder.

They don’t really get to talk, not until later, when the sun is beginning to set, and the party buzz has faded into somewhat of a hum. Mikael is still getting used to this group, but he like what he sees: they’re good kids, all of them. He knows Eva had a good time, she hasn’t stopped smiling once, and he is glad. He watches as she wraps an arm around Vilde and kisses her, and he thinks something in him has settled.

He is sitting on the grass when he feels someone sit next to him. When he looks up, he is surprised to see that it is Isak. For a few moments, neither of them speak, just watch everyone as they sway in the dusk, draining the last dregs of alcohol from their cups, all a little tipsy. Across the lawn Even is talking to Yousef and Mutta, and Mikael smiles.

Isak lets out a small hum next to him, and Mikael glances over. He's looking at them, too. “It’s nice that you’re speaking again,” Isak says.

Mikael knows he’s talking about Even and the boys. “Yeah,” he says, “it is.”

Isak tugs at the grass in between them. “I’m sorry,” he says, finally. “For hitting you.”

“It’s okay.”

He scowls, a little half-heartedly, at the floor. “I can see that.”

He’s talking about the bruise, that’s still ringing his eye, and not Mikael’s. Mikael smiles, a little. He thinks he can see what Even loves so dearly about him. “Wrong angle.”

“Probably.”

A beat.

“Seriously, though,” Isak says, and Mikael looks up, and he’s still not looking at him, “I’m sorry. I—” He huffs. “I got jealous.”

That is not what Mikael expected to hear. “Really?”

“It wasn’t fair of me. And I shouldn’t have hit you, even if it was. So I’m sorry, about that.”

“I was jealous, too,” he admits, because he may as well, and for the first time Isak glances at him.

“Yeah?”

“You are much braver than I am.”

Isak’s gaze feels too knowing. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

You’re the one who has Even, Mikael thinks, but he doesn’t say it aloud, because for the first time he thinks he is realising that even if he was brave like Isak, like Even, Even was never his to have. They are too similar. Isak is like Sonja in that he is grounded: he doesn’t wear bracelets that clink or black nail polish, but he is good for Even in a way that Mikael could never be.

“I’m glad he has you,” he says, instead.

Isak smiles at that. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“He told me what happened. Between you.”

Mikael’s blood doesn’t run cold like it would have a few months ago. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Isak says, which is not what he expected.

“What for?”

“My mom was really religious,” Isak says, softly. “I guess—I’ve been there.”

It’s not the same thing, and they both know it, because Isak is not religious, and Mikael is. But he appreciates it.

Laughter cuts across the lawn, and Mikael’s eyes follow it to where Even is stood, grinning. He’s holding a red plastic cup and he’s smiling at something Yousef is saying, until his eyes drift over Yousef's shoulder and meet Mikael's. His smile goes a little soft, and then his gaze flicks to Isak next to him. When Mikael looks over at Isak, he’s giving Even a soft twinkly-eyed smile back.

Yeah. This was never Mikael’s to touch.

Even comes over, bends down next to where Isak is sat. Isak wordlessly tips his head up for a kiss, to which Even obliges: Mikael knows he shouldn’t look, but he does anyway. It’s simply a dry press of mouths against each other – probably not dissimilar to the one he and Even shared – but it’s so soft, so tender, that he feels himself melt a little just watching them. Even pulls away, barely, and nudges his nose against Isak’s, says quietly, “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” Isak says. “Is that alcohol?”

“Will I get in trouble if it is?”

“A little,” Isak says. He takes the cup from his hand, takes a sip, pulls a face. “Jesus.”

“I know, it’s not very good.” Even fits his finger into his dimple, and then looks up at Mikael, a small smile on his face. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mikael says.

“What are you talking about?”

“Just some things,” Isak says. He stands. “I’m getting a drink. Do you want anything?”

Even says, “I’m okay,” and then Mikael realises that Isak's also asking him, so he shakes his head. “No, thanks,” he says, and Isak nods, presses a hand to Even’s shoulder, and then leaves. They both watch him go, as Even sits in the grass next to him, in Isak's deserted spot. He leans into Mikael, gently bumping their shoulders together. “Everything okay?” he says.

“Everything’s good,” Mikael says. For the first time in a long time, he thinks he mean it. “Isak seems nice.”

“Yeah, he is.”

For a few moments, they just sit, watching the rest of the party.

Then from next to him, he hears Even inhale, softly. “Hey, um,” he says, and Mikael turns to glance at him. “I’m really sorry.”

“For what?”

Even thinks for a moment. He never used to think about his words, like this. Mikael thinks he likes this quieter, more thoughtful Even. He is still just as bright, but he is no longer bursting at the seams. He is comfortable in his skin – and watching him, Mikael realises that he is, too. “For pushing you,” he says. It’s not what Mikael expected him to say.

“Pushing me?”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he says. “I was—I was diagnosed, with bipolar, the day I did. And I was manic, and I was projecting.” Then he looks at him, and for a moment Mikael can still see the boy with the stained knees and taped-up fingers. “But I don’t think it was just that, that made me kiss you.”

Mikael says, “I know.” Because he does. Because he saw Even slowly fall in love with him – but he knows that he gave him reason to. 

Even looks at him. “Yeah?”

Mikael feels like he is peeling himself open. “I was confused,” he says, quietly. “I think I still am. I projected, too. And I am so fucking sorry it was enough to push you to wanting to end your life.”

Even just nods. “I forgive you.”

I forgive you.

Mikael’s eyes sting. “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

He takes Mikael's shoulder, and pulls him into a hug – a proper one, this time, one loaded with meaning, and Mikael hugs him back with everything he’s wanted to tell him. When he pulls back, his eyes are wet, and Mikael think his are too.

“Meaningful,” Even tells him.

“Meaningful,” Mikael repeats.

His true north, all along.