Moments

The Waiting Game

"Yeah," he croaks and clears his throat. "Yep! Fine, I'm fine, mom...just..." Just what? "I just...uh...gimme a few minutes?"

She hesitates. He can hear her hovering, knows she wants to come in. She's his mom now. Again. Like, really really her, and part of him – a small, dark part of him – wishes she weren't. Wishes she wasn't so aware of everything, of him.

"O-okay," she says as if she's forcing herself. "Okay. I'll just...okay."

And then she's gone.

Isak waits until her steps retreat, and then he's gasping for air again. His hand hurts, he's gripping his phone so tightly. It's stupid. He's being stupid, it's just a snapshot. One photo of one split second of one moment. And Emma posted it, so...

Isak unlocks his phone to look at it again because, clearly, he's a masochist now. Maybe he'll star in Magnus's next sado dream.

Lots of likes on the photo. Comments too.

Bonnie and Clyde, together again.

And.

Dude! Where have you been? Are you still mental?

And.

Glad you kissed and made up.

Okay, that one hurts.

Isak just wants to curl up into a ball and wallow in these fresh, biting cuts. So, that's what he does. He crawls over to his bed – damn, the floor is kinda dirty in here – and he levers himself up onto the mattress.

It's ridiculous. Isak knows he's being ridiculous. He knows Even didn't suddenly realize he's always loved Mikael, and he certainly hasn't gone running into Mikael's arms without a backward glance. Still, it hurts. Because there's no text, no call, no fucking carrier pigeon. Nothing. Even's just late, and now there's photographic evidence why.

For Isak, it's a pain that feels inevitable. Like payback. Sonja comes to mind, and now Isak feels sick. Why is he doing this to himself?

He ignores the first few tears, but the rest make him angry.

Fuck Mikael and his dark wavy hair and his pearly, white smile, and that damned dimple. And fuck Emma. What the fucking fuck? Why is she always at the center of Isak's relationship crises?

He groans into his pillow, which is wet with snot and tears. The groan turns into a yell, and now his throat is as raw as the rest of him.

A knock on the door startles Isak awake. Which is weird, because he doesn't remember falling asleep. His cheek is sweaty, his neck hurts, and something is stabbing him in his side. He digs it out just as another knock sounds.

"Yeah?"

It's his phone that's been impaling him, which is fucking fitting. He swipes at the screen, but there's nothing. No notifications of any kind.

The door eases open. He'd forgotten about it already, sleep-drunk.

"I'll be right out, mom." His voice sounds like he's been swallowing gravel.

The door clicks shut, and Isak drags the duvet over his head, glad to be alone for a few more moments. When the bed dips under someone else's weight, he rolls his eyes. A hand on his back rubs in slow circles. He's not ready to talk to either one of his parents, and chances are it's his mom.

But the hand on his back slides down to his ass, so...not his mom, then.

Isak stills.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, are you...? Did I fuck up so bad that you had to hide in here?"