Moments

The Waiting Game

Author's Note: Only a few chapters left. :(

***

It's okay. Really, it's just fine.

It has only been four hours since Even texted to say he'd be meeting Mikael, assuring Isak he wouldn't be late for dinner with his parents.

The dinner. The meet-the-parents dinner.

Well, Even is late. Isak has done his best to stave off the awkward small talk from his dad and the concerned looks from his mother.

At least she seems lucid today. More like herself, which is such a huge relief. Isak breathes a little easier around her now. Between his newfound knowledge on the treatment and care of the mentally ill – thank you interwebs - and his mom's agreement to receive said treatment and care, Isak's in a much better place than he's been for a while.

Or he has been.

Isak checks his phone again and, nope, the battery's not dead.

He kinda wishes it was, at least then he'd have a little hope. It's just that it's been four hours. Four hours.

The notification sound seems so loud that Isak nearly drops his phone. His heart skips a few beats as he swipes to unlock the screen. But it isn't the text that he's been expecting.

Jonas Noah: check your IG feed

Frowning, Isak does, thumbs down through the photos of food, selfies, and random shit. He soon wishes he hadn't.

Emma's posted a photo from some party she's at. Isak doesn't recognize most of the people, but he knows at least two . There in full, vibrant color, is Even, smiling brightly, with Mikael's arm draped across his shoulder.

#Reunited

Isak forgets to breathe for a second. Two. Three.
His lungs drag in oxygen, but his throat feels like it's on fire.

He squeezes his eyes shut, his grip on his iPhone almost painful, and looks at the image again. Remembers to respond before Jonas goes ballistic.

Isak: it's all good. thanks. snakkes.

And it is good. Even looks so happy, Isak is kinda happy for him. Despite how little they've spoken about Mikael, Isak knows how much the guy means to him. And he's...he's glad that Even's gotten something back that he'd lost.

But.

But.

Fuck.

Okay.
Okay.

Isak needs to be alone, like, right now.

He's sitting at the dinner table, and his parents are fussing about in the kitchen, but they could come in any second. And they would know right away that he was having an out-of-body experience because that's what this feels like. That's what it feels like when you're trying to ward off a panic attack, trying to talk yourself out of one. In the third person, no less.

Come on, Isak.
It's not what it looks like, you idiot.
You know Even belongs to you, as much as anyone can belong to anyone.
He loves you.
You trust him.

You trust him.

Fuck.

Isak rushes out of the chair and somehow makes it to his room. He has just enough time to shut the door behind him before he drops to his knees.

As expected, footsteps stop just outside.

"Isak? Are you alright, dear?"

Focus. Breathe. Sound normal.