Chapter Text
SYNG
The first time that Jonas meets Mikael, it’s watching Isak’s fist in his face and watching all hell break loose before him. And it’s stupid as hell, but Isak is his best friend, and Jonas will always back him, so he throws himself into the fight with his full body, yelling and shouting and letting Even pull a bleeding Isak out of the way.
The first time that Jonas touches Mikael, it’s out of anger. Jonas really doesn’t entirely understand what happens, but there he is with Mikael’s hands on his forearms, tight enough to bruise, both of Jonas’s hands slamming hard into Mikael’s shoulders. It’s a fight. And then it’s Mahdi grabbing his arm and stepping in front of him and it’s over, the fight’s over, and all Jonas knows is that Mikael has hurt Isak and hurt Even and there’s anger boiling deep in his gut.
They’re in the hospital waiting room the first time that Jonas hears Mikael’s name.
“Even,” he says seriously, learning over Isak and talking low. “I’m not going to force you to say anything, but what the fuck did we get into?”
Even’s running his hands through his hair, breathing shakily, not taking his eyes off of the blood that’s drying on Isak’s cheek. “I - fuck, Mikael just…”
“Was that the one that Isak…”
“Huh?” Even finally looks up at Jonas.
“The one I hit? Or tried to hit. Yeah. That’s Mikael,” Isak groans. His eyes are still shut and he’s gingerly holding his nose.
Jonas looks over at Even for confirmation, or more information, or anything, really, but Even looks even more out of it than Isak, so Jonas shakes his head and addresses Isak. “How much trouble are we in? Yakuza levels, or what?”
Isak winces. Jonas isn’t sure if it’s the pain or the memory. “Yakuza was only that bad because of William,” Isak points out. “So, way less than that.”
“Okay,” Jonas says. He’s backtracking, mapping it all out in his head, trying to figure out what went wrong and how they ended up here in the hospital, knuckles bruised and Isak’s eye already starting to blacken, Even looking at Isak like he can’t see anything else, Magnus silent for once in his life. The whole timeline is a mess. When he pushes away all the chaos, the yelling and spit and fists, only one thing remains: it all started with Mikael.
When they call Isak’s name, Even helps him up and brings him over to the nurse, explaining that Isak got hurt and no, they don’t want anything to do with the police.
Jonas turns over to Mahdi and Magnus the instant that the other two are out of earshot.
“Do you guys know this Mikael kid? Like, what the fuck did he do to Even that made Isak so angry?”
Jonas knows Isak like the back of his hand, has known him like that for the majority of their lives, and he knows that Isak can be petty and overdramatic, but he can’t get over the look on Even’s face when he saw the boys walk in. That was more than dramatics. And Jonas loves Isak and Isak loves Even and therefore Jonas loves Even, like a brother, like his best friend’s boyfriend and his own friend as well, and Jonas isn’t a hateful person but this fucking Mikael kid hurt his friend and hurt his best friend and that’s unforgivable.
Magnus shakes his head and Mahdi shrugs.
Jonas is suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline took a toll on him, and without Isak here to worry about, his mind is stuck on Mikael and all the questions that surround him. “You guys can go home,” Jonas tells Mags and Mahdi. “I’ll stay until they come back and then text you what they say.”
“Are you okay though, man?” Mahdi asks, leaning his elbows on his knees. Jonas blinks. He hasn’t actually thought about it, really, too caught up in Isak and Even and fucking Mikael to worry about himself.
“Yeah,” he says slowly, “yeah, I’m fine. Just fucking pissed off.” The mother near them shoots him a look and he cringes.
“Just try to chill out,” Mahdi offers unhelpfully. “Isak’s going to be fine.”
“Yeah, I don’t think his nose is broken or anything,” Magnus chimes in.
“True. But yeah, you guys go grab food or something. I’ll text you.”
Mahdi looks at him skeptically but stands up anyways, Magnus glancing back and forth between the two of them. “You sure?” Mahdi asks.
“I’m sure,” Jonas says, nodding back at him.
“Okay,” Mahdi gestures for Magnus to get up and he scrambles to his feet. “Keep us updated, yeah?”
Jonas nods again and watches them leave. He’s alone, finally, and he breathes out, shifts in the uncomfortable chair, and pulls out his phone. He needs to find out who the hell Mikael is.
But by the time Even returns with a considerably less bloody Isak in tow, Jonas is frustrated and Mikael is still a mystery.
“All good?” Jonas asks Even, standing up to meet them and shaking off all the thoughts of Mikael that still clutter at the front of his mind. Even looks a lot more at ease, relieved, actually, even though he has Isak’s hand in a death grip. He looks more like himself.
“Yeah, uh, it’s not broken but there’s going to be some bruising. We did get some pain pills out of it at least,” Even answers with a smile that isn’t as easy as it usually is, but it’s there, and Jonas nods.
“Whoo,” Isak says weakly.
Even snorts at that. “He’s already had some,” he tells Jonas before tugging at Isak’s hand. “Let’s go home, babe. Jonas, did the boys leave?”
“Yeah, I’ll walk you guys home,” Jonas says.
“You don’t have to walk us -”
“Even,” Jonas cuts in, “let me do this.”
It takes a second, but Even nods, seemingly giving in, and they’re on their way. They walk in silence. Isak is too out of it, leaning into Even’s side, and Even is just staring at the ground in front of them. A big part of Jonas wants to ask about Mikael, push Even for an answer, but he knows that would be crossing a line. There’s something huge just under the surface here, something to do with who Even is and what he went through before Jonas ever even met him, and it’s his shit to share on his own, so Jonas stays quiet. He keeps his mouth shut and hopes Even can’t hear the thoughts that are deafening in his head.
It’s two days later before he remembers Sana. Two days of turning everything over in his head, unanswered texts to Isak on his phone, two days of typing mikael into his search bar and then deleting it before he hits the enter key.
How the fuck did he forget Sana was there? She must have gotten lost in the midst of everyone else’s drama.
Hands typing fast, he flips over to Facebook and finds Sana’s name.
Jonas Noah Vasquez : Hi Sana, do you have time to talk?
She’d been there with her hand grazing Isak’s face and she’d been there before, right in the middle of it, yelling someone’s name, but Jonas can’t remember who she’d been grabbing.
Sana Bakkoush: About Friday?
Jonas Noah Vasquez: Yeah, how do you know those guys?
Sana Bakkoush: Elias is my brother
It must have been Elias that she was yelling at, then, Jonas realizes. He chews on his lip.
Jonas Noah Vasquez: And Mikael?
Sana Bakkoush: He’s friends with Elias
Jonas Noah Vasquez: Thanks
He opens a new tab and finds Elias easily, his Facebook and his Youtube, and Jonas almost pumps his fist in the air when he sees Mikael on the screen. And it’s two in the morning when he realizes that he’s been through all the videos multiple times, and he can’t even hear the other boys anymore, just Mikael. Mikael’s face when Even’s mentioned. Mikael’s tone of voice when he says Even’s name.
EVA’S
The second time that Jonas sees Mikael, outside of a computer screen, that is, they’re at Eva’s birthday. He’s walking in with Mahdi, the two of them holding carefully wrapped gifts. Mahdi’s halfway through analyzing the new strain he’d smoked when Jonas stops, freezes in place, fist clenching tight enough to wrinkle the wrapping paper.
“The fuck’s wrong?” Mahdi asks, looking him up and down.
Jonas grits his teeth. “Why is he here?”
Following his gaze to where Mikael is, Mahdi shrugs. “I don’t know. They’re all here,” he points out.
Jonas hasn’t even noticed the other boys. He blinks, taking his eyes off of Mikael long enough to look around and see the rest of their little group hanging out. He knows them from the YouTube channel - Adam and Mutasim are joking around with Chris, Yousef is talking to Sana, and Elias is tucked in a corner with Even, both of them serious and withdrawn.
He spots Isak easily once Mikael isn’t the only thing he’s focused on. Isak’s sitting next to Magnus and Vilde, watching them make out and talk to each other with a sort of disgusted fascination, and Jonas slides into the chair next to him.
“Hey,” Isak says casually. Jonas raises his eyebrows at him, because honestly, why the fuck is everybody acting like nothing happened? Isak looks back at him quizzically, and they’ve been friends long enough that when Jonas widens his eyes and tilts his head in Mikael’s direction, Isak knows what he’s asking and rolls his own eyes at Jonas.
“That’s between them and Even,” Isak states.
Jonas stares at him. “That’s… not what you were saying a few weeks ago.”
Isak blushes a bit then, and Jonas knows that he’s called him out. “I’m staying out of it,” Isak says, sounding suspiciously defensive. “And I’m not going to start shit at Eva’s birthday, so.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jonas says. He draws in a sharp breath and Isak glances at him sideways.
Jonas doesn’t relax the entire night. Eventually, Even comes over to grab Isak’s hands and drag him to dance. He’s not, like, playing croquet with Elias and Mikael and the others or anything that drastic, but he looks a little better. He looks like there’s a chance. And Jonas is grateful for that, because he loves Even, but Even’s too forgiving, too full of love and too open, and Jonas is not about to let him get hurt again, so he’s wary. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Mikael. He sits on the sidelines and observes.
“Jonas Noah Vasquez,” Eskild yells dramatically at one point, dropping into the seat beside Jonas. He lowers his voice in Jonas’s ear. “Do you have a crush?”
Jonas snorts. “What?”
“Mikael,” Eskild whispers, sloppy drunk and smiling. “You’ve been staring at him all night. He’s fucking cute. A little young for me, of course, but perfect for you.”
“What the fuck, Eskild?” Jonas is too shocked to laugh. “No, I - yeah, he’s cute, but I’m staring at him because I hate him.”
Eskild sits back in his seat and throws his arm behind Jonas. “Why do you hate him if you think he’s cute?”
“Because,” Jonas says slowly, enunciating clearly because it seems like Eskild doesn’t know what’s going on, “he hurt Even. And Isak.”
“But he’s so cute,” Eskild whines. It’s about then that Jonas stops listening. He goes back to glaring at Mikael from across Eva’s yard, sulking and sipping his drink angrily.
When they’re all gathered around Eva, Jonas is finally close enough to hear Mikael’s voice. It’s different when it’s not giggling in his earbuds off of videos on his phone. It’s rougher, here, and Jonas is singing along but he’s got one eye still on Mikael as they spin and dance and make Eva laugh. Not starting shit at Eva’s birthday, Jonas reminds himself. It’s hard, though, when Mikael looks so bright and happy, a giant smile on his face and he’s glowing, and he really shouldn’t be, because Even is still reserved and Isak is still resting his hand on Even’s arm like he’s comforting him. It isn’t fair. Mikael shouldn’t get to be so fucking happy.
THE BAKKOUSH’S
The third time that he meets Mikael, it’s at Sana’s Eid party. His heart stutters in his chest and it’s possibly the worst feeling that he’s ever fucking felt. It’s anger and that same distaste he’s had for Mikael every single time he sees him, except this time it’s mixed with shame and another layer of self-hatred because Mikael looks actually really good with his hair tied back like that.
“Did you try this?” Isak says at his shoulder. Jonas jumps.
“What?”
Isak raises an eyebrow. “This chicken thing. It’s really good.” He gestures at his plate and offers it to Jonas.
“I’m good, actually. Thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” Isak shrugs. “I’m going to go sit with Mahdi and Mags if you want to join, though.”
Jonas shuffles along the table and just starts throwing random foods on his plate, not really paying attention to anything because he can’t stop being entirely aware of Mikael’s every move. He’s moving around the party, thanking Sana’s parents and wishing them Eid Mubarak, telling them he loves the food before moving to talk with Eva, joking like he always does with her because she’ll always have a special place in his heart. And he’s even talking to Mutasim, and telling Mahdi that the weed was really good, and Isak’s saying something about Marrakech, but he’s still not focused. He’s on autopilot. There’s some sense in him that always knows exactly where Mikael is, and he’s boiling with anger at Mikael and at himself. The whole thing just feels so fucking unresolved .
“You look someone killed your puppy and then shat on its grave,” Magnus says tactlessly when Jonas sits down next to the rest of them. He shrugs.
“I’m chill.”
“No, you’re not,” Isak says, leaning over to see what’s on Jonas’s plate. “Jonas hates Mikael,” he informs everyone.
“I don’t hate him,” Jonas argues at the same time that Magnus says, “huh?”
“I talked to him,” Mahdi offers. “He’s super chill.”
Isak rolls his eyes. “Fine, you strongly dislike him. Whatever you’re calling it.”
“Strongly dislike,” Jonas repeats slowly. He doesn’t have to search at all before his eyes find Mikael in the crowd. He’s laughing at something that Adam’s telling him, the two of them leaning into each other, and Jonas can’t help but notice that Mikael’s not the kind of guy who laughs with his hand over his mouth, not the kind of guy who holds back. He laughs loud and bright. Jonas crosses his arms slowly as he watches Mikael, resting back in his seat and squinting.
Yeah, Jonas kind of hates him.
KAFFEBRENNERIET
Jonas is waiting in line at KB on his way back from a gaming marathon at Magnus’s the fourth time he meets Mikael. He doesn’t necessarily like it, because fuck capitalism and everything, but also fuck how tired he is, so he’s here, in line and pissed off about it. He’s lost too many rounds of games with guns to care.
In front of him, there’s a businessman in a suit that looks too big for his body, and he orders a coffee that’s too big to be healthy, and takes a call on a phone that’s too big to fit in his hands, stepping away from the register without a glance to the girl behind the counter. She spins around and runs her hands through her hair. Glancing at the line behind Jonas with wild eyes, he feels bad for her, but then she says, “Mik, can you please take the register?” and Jonas is staring at her blankly for a second without realizing what’s happening. And then Mikael hustles over, tying an apron behind his back.
“Hi,” he says cheerily, staring down at the counter, “what can I get for...”
He slows to a stop when he makes eye contact with Jonas. “Oh,” he breathes. “Jonas.”
Hearing Mikael whisper his name like that does things to him. Namely, his face heats up with anger because Mikael has no right to even know his name, let alone say it in a way that he finds fucking attractive, because Mikael, above everything, beyond his face and his voice and everything, everything , he’s still the guy that fucked over Even. The guy that hurt Even.
“You are Jonas, right?” Mikael asks. He’s leaning across the counter a little bit, looking more nervous than he’s ever looked in the videos Jonas has seen of him, or the previous times he’s seen him in real life.
“Yeah,” Jonas finally chokes out.
Mikael shuffles his feet. “Uh.” He glances at the clock and then back to the line behind Jonas. “Do you… My shift ends in ten minutes. Would you mind sticking around and maybe talking? Not that you have to,” he adds hastily. “I just would really appreciate it.”
“Okay,” Jonas says dully. He’s shocked, kind of, by the whole manifestation of this boy he’s only really gotten to know over a computer screen, or a phone screen. At this point, it’s been weeks that he’s been checking the YouTube channel for updates, rewatching old ones, trying desperately to avoid asking Isak and Even questions about it. About Mikael. And this, Jonas realizes, could be his only opportunity for answers.
A cautious grin splits Mikael’s face in two. “Okay,” he parrots back. “Um, coffee?”
“Just black, please.” Jonas sifts through his pockets for money and spills it on the counter.
Mikael nods. “You’ll wait, though?” He sounds annoyingly hopeful.
“Yeah.”
Jonas waits for his coffee and waits for Mikael, watching him take orders, always smiling even though he keeps side-eyeing Jonas, chatting with customers charmingly. When someone slides his cup over, Jonas takes it and sips at it, and it burns his tongue and he doesn’t sit down, just stands and watches Mikael. It’s not long before Mikael is nodding to him and slipping to the back of the shop to, presumably, clock out.
“Hey,” Mikael says. He’s wearing a t-shirt and black jeans and he looks like a jerk. “Do you want to go somewhere to talk?”
“Uh. We can just sit by the window,” Jonas offers. Mikael looks relieved and he nods back. Jonas flops into the seat and knocks back another sip of coffee, and Mikael drums his fingers nervously. Jonas isn’t really sure how to treat Mikael, how to connect the boy he fought with to the boy the watched online to the boy who’s sitting next to him right now.
“What did you want to talk about?” Jonas asks warily.
Mikael shifts. “I just know that you hate me, and, uh, I really don’t like the idea that people hate me,” he admits, smiling that stupidly bright smile but fuck him, because that isn’t going to work on Jonas.
He fixes an unimpressed look on his face and Mikael’s smile falters.
“Look,” Mikael says, leaning in like he’s about to tell Jonas a secret, “I feel like you hate me because of the whole fight mess.”
“And because you hurt Even,” Jonas adds. Mikael winces.
“And because I hurt Even. But I also feel like it was a huge misunderstanding and I’ve talked to Even since then, and I’ve talked to Isak too. So they don’t hate me. It’s just… you.” He looks at Jonas expectantly.
Jonas knits his eyebrows together. “You talked to Isak?”
“Yeah. He’s nice,” Mikael says.
“He’s my best friend,” Jonas corrects Mikael, narrowing his eyes. That smile is not working. “Which means that it’s my job to back him up, even when he doesn’t think he needs it.”
“Okay, I get that. But shouldn’t you trust Isak’s judgement?” Mikael asks as he cocks his head to the side. And that, actually, crosses a line, because Mikael doesn’t get to tell Jonas how to be Isak’s best friend, and Jonas straightens his back.
“I don’t trust Isak’s judgment at all. He makes a lot of stupid mistakes.”
Mikael smiles that fucking awful smile again. “We all do.”
And Mikael might be older than him, but that feels just downright patronizing. Jonas sighs. “Isak’s been my best friend for ten years. We’ve been through everything together, and he’s been through hell and back. You know who’s also been through a lot of shit? His boyfriend, who also happens to be a fucking great person and one of my closest friends. And I love both of them, but they can both be really fucking dumb, so, yeah, I’m going to watch out for them because neither of them deserve to be hurt more.”
“And you think I’m going to hurt them?” Mikael challenges.
“You already have.”
It’s then that Mikael winces and Jonas knows that he’s got to him, feels a sick sense of pride at how he’s visibly affected. “I did,” Mikael whispers. He looks down at his hands. “I fucked up my best friend and it’s not okay. But it’s between me and Even and we’re working it out, so, no offense, but it’s not really any of your business.”
“Bullshit,” Jonas says immediately, shaking his head. “It became my business the instant you involved my friend and my best friend and the instant you put your fucking hands on me in that fight.”
Mikael draws in an audible breath. “Okay. Okay, I’ll give you that. That fight was a mess and I’m sorry about that. But Isak’s your best friend, which you keep reminding me, and the way you feel about him is the way I used to feel about Even. I love Even, always have, always will, because he’ll always be my best friend. I made a mistake and I can’t go back and fix it, but I’m trying. And I want to protect Even as much as you want to protect Isak.”
“I doubt that.”
“Fine,” Mikael says, slamming his hands against the table. “I’m not going to change your mind, obviously, so whatever.”
“Yeah.”
Mikael deflates a little under Jonas’s gaze, loses a little of the anger, curls his shoulders in and sighs. “For what it’s worth,” he says weakly, “I think Isak’s an amazing kid. He’s really funny and sweet and he loves Even, and he’s, like, way better for him than Sonja ever was, and Even loves him.”
“I know all of that,” Jonas snaps.
“Can you try to listen instead of just jumping at my throat?” Mikael asks. His voice is thin and tired, stretched out in exhaustion.
Jonas narrows his eyes and shrugs.
“First of all, you don’t know shit about what happened between me and Even, so you can’t hate me for that.” Mikael leans back in his seat and traces his fingers along the countertop in little patterns, looping and circling.
Taking a second to think about it, Jonas takes another sip of coffee. “So tell me.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” Jonas says, nodding and raising his eyebrows. “Tell me and I’ll make my own judgements.”
Mikael stares at him. He blinks wide eyes and seems to consider it, face guarded. Jonas waits. “How much do you already know about Even?” Mikael asks. “Because I’m not about to spill all his secrets to you.”
“I know he’s a good friend. I know he’s pansexual, I know he’s bipolar, I know he loves movies and Isak and dogs and good weed, I know there was shit with Sonja and I know he left Bakka because there was shit there. I don’t ask questions about it. So,” Jonas finishes, raising his eyebrows and waiting for Mikael to fill in the blanks.
He doesn’t. Instead, he nods, tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, and asks, “Did Isak ever come out to you?”
“What?” Jonas is thrown, unsure how this relates.
“Did he come out to you?” Mikael repeats. “And, like, how?” Mikael says, raising his eyebrows.
“Uh.” Jonas shoots him a skeptical look. “He’d been acting really weird and ditching us and then he just told me that he had a thing with Even. Why?”
“Okay,” Mikael nods. He looks down again. “My best friend came out to me by kissing me.”
Jonas pauses with his coffee cup halfway raised to his mouth.
Mikael continues, speaking quiet and fast, eyes still cast downward. “And I was dealing with my own shit, and I was freaking out, and that’s not an excuse but I ended up saying some things to him that I really, really, really ended up regretting. But we’ve gone through the whole thing and did the whole crying part and that helped and it’s okay, and it won’t be the same that it used to be but that’s okay too.”
They sit in silence for a few moments, neither of them looking at the other. “Shit happens,” Jonas says eventually, unhelpfully, but it’s the only thing he can think of. He admits when he’s wrong, and it’s not often, but this time, he’s wrong and Mikael’s right. Jonas doesn’t know anything about what happened between them. Mikael’s words haven’t changed his mind, exactly, but he’s able to take a step back and see that there’s a bigger picture here. See that there might be shit going on in the background, shit that Jonas doesn’t know about and shit that Mikael isn’t going to tell him right now.
Mikael laughs, just lightly and it makes Jonas’s heart thud uncomfortably for a single beat. “Fair.” Mikael shifts in his seat again. “Look,” he says, tone more serious again. Jonas misses the laughter. It seemed more like the Mikael from the videos, the only Mikael that’s ever seemed, well, likable. “You love Isak and I love Even and they love each other,” he smiles. “Which means that we’re, like, connected. Truce?”
It’s a few seconds of Jonas just staring at the hand Mikael’s offered him before Mikael groans a bit in exasperation. “You don’t have to like me. Just don’t hate me.”
“I don’t like you,” Jonas informs him. Might as well be honest. “Truce.”
Mikael smiles and Jonas doesn’t, but their hands touch and something really fucking weird happens in Jonas’s stomach.
ISAK AND EVEN’S
The fifth time that Jonas meets Mikael, and the first time under The Truce, it’s at Isak and Even’s apartment during a pregame. The boys are all there except for Mahdi, yelling over each other and passing a bong back and forth, and Isak’s laying across Even’s lap on the bed. He’s throwing Cheetos into Magnus’s mouth when the doorbell rings.
“Off, off,” Even says excitedly, shoving at Isak.
“Don’t be fucking rude,” Isak whines. He rolls over on the bed and sits up to get a better angle at Mags.
Even flings open the door and says, “Hi! Come in!” and Elias and Mikael walk in. Elias pulls Even into a hug, both of them grinning happily and comfortably, but Mikael hangs back. His eyes fall on Jonas and he smiles. Shit , he thinks, and flicks on his lighter to take another hit from the bong. He’s way too sober to be dealing with the whole Mikael situation.
“Slow the fuck down!” Magnus yells at Isak, Cheetos hitting his face as he tries to keep up, diving around from his place cross-legged on the floor. He almost takes out their television with one wild swipe of his neck.
Isak scoffs. “It’s not my fault you can’t keep up.”
“Is,” Jonas says, hitting his hand on Isak’s leg but still looking at Mikael, “hit?”
“Yes, please,” Isak answers gratefully, reaching his hand down to Jonas on the floor, who passes him the bong and listens as he inhales. Magnus picks the Cheetos that he missed catching and eats them.
“Is he… eating off the ground?” Elias asks, kicking off his shoes.
Even claps his hands. “Magnus! No. Bad.”
“He’s not a puppy, babe,” Isak says. He exhales for a second time, long and slow, and then nods a greeting at Elias and Mikael.
“He’s eating Cheetos off the fucking floor, though,” Even points out. He throws himself back onto the bed, stretched out at the head with Isak sat up closer to the foot, Jonas on the floor and leaning against the mattress near Isak’s legs. “Make yourselves at home, guys,” he says to Mikael and Elias. The two of them look a little weirded out by the scene they’ve walked into, Mikael more than Elias. “Beer in the kitchen, weed right here, Cheetos in Isak’s lap and also, apparently, on the floor.”
“Cool,” Elias says with a smile. “I’m gonna grab a beer, then. Mik? You want?”
Mikael shakes his head and glances over at Even, and then shifts his eyes nervously to Jonas. Truce , Jonas reminds himself.
“You can sit next to me,” Jonas says. It comes out sour, but he means it, tilts his head to the side at the floor beside him and Mikael smiles at him and folds his legs up, landing heavy.
“Oh, shit.” Magnus widens his eyes. “You guys like each other now?”
“Yes,” Mikael says cheerily, and the same time as Jonas says, “No.”
There’s silence. Magnus winces dramatically and glances at Isak, pulling a face. Elias is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, taking a long, long, sip of his drink.
“Anyways,” Isak coughs awkwardly, breaking the silence, “do you want Even to give you guys the tour?”
Even twists to look at him. “There are literally only three rooms.”
“Babe,” Isak says, gritting his teeth with a pointed nod back at Even, “you can give a tour.”
Elias, Mikael, Jonas, and Magnus all pretend not to see the entire silent conversation that’s going on between Even and Isak, loaded glances and eyebrow twitches, Isak narrowing his eyes.
“Fine,” Even finally gives in. “Bedroom. Isak’s shitty video games. Wall of art. Table. Kitchen. Bathroom over there.”
“You didn’t even get up!” Isak complains.
Mikael shakes his head and laughs, the motion making the mattress behind Jonas shiver. “That was weak as fuck.”
“You two,” Even says, pointing a finger at Mikael and then prodding the back of Isak’s neck, “do not get to gang up on me now.”
“You and Jonas gang up on me all the fucking time, so payback’s a bitch,” Isak retorts.
Jonas takes another hit. “This is true. But you deserve it.”
“Even deserves it too,” Mikael says, twitching his lips up at Jonas and bumping their shoulders together. Jonas almost drops the goddamn bong at the contact.
Magnus squawks. “That was so friendly , what the fuck?”
“Eat your floor Cheetos and shut the hell up,” Jonas says, narrowing his eyes. Magnus frowns.
“You guys clean the floors,” Mags defends, and Isak shakes his head quickly.
“No, we literally don’t,” he says incredulously.
“Oh. Well. Just keep throwing them, then.”
Isak starts throwing and it’s not long before it turns into a competition with rules, sweatshirts marking places on the floor, Isak tossing into Magnus’s mouth and Even tossing to Elias. And it ends up with Mikael and Jonas just sitting there, watching, and it feels heavy between them, and Jonas knows that Mikael’s about to say something before he does.
“Should we play?” he asks with a smile that’s half mischievous and half charming.
Jonas ducks his head. “Nah, Isak gets really fucking competitive, so I stay out of it.”
“You’re fucking cheating!” Isak screams, further proving Jonas’s point and he sticks his hand towards the other four boys as if to say see?
“You think there are rules here?” Even asks. He doesn’t stop throwing the Cheetos and Elias doesn’t stop catching them, whereas Isak keeps hitting Magnus in the forehead or the cheek or somewhere that really isn’t close to his open mouth.
“We could make a good team, though,” Mikael says lowly. He smiles again and Jonas is nothing but suspicious. If he didn’t know better, it’d be flirting, which means it’s probably just another attempt Mikael’s making to force Jonas not to hate him.
Jonas kind of glares at him. “What makes you think that?”
“We’re the chillest out of this entire group. Like, we could actually focus and win this thing.” He’s got a point. Elias is bouncing up and down on his feet, Magnus nearly throwing himself across the room, Isak in the midst of throwing a temper tantrum and Even laughing at him. It’s loud and messy and typical.
“No,” Jonas says shortly. Mikael’s face falls for a second and then he collects himself back together, grinning again. He’s about to say something else when Jonas cuts in. “I shook on a truce, not on a fucking team.”
“Fine. We’ll referee, then.” Mikael smiles. Jonas narrows his eyes at the use of we , but then Mikael raises his voice and says, “Even, you’re cheating.”
Isak crows happily.
“How am I cheating?” he asks, shocked. Elias doesn’t even close his mouth, like a baby bird, waiting for food. “Explain how I can cheat at this game.”
“You’ve been slowly pushing back the marker for Isak’s place so he’s farther away than you,” Mikael points out smugly.
“Fuck me,” Even mumbles.
‘I’m breaking up with you,” Isak announces, and Mikael laughs again, like he’s lighting up the space beside Jonas and Jonas can feel the heat radiating off of him. “And this game is over.”
Magnus surges up and wraps Elias in a hug, boisterous as always, saying, “Good game, man, good game.” Isak’s still glaring at Even.
“We would have won, you know,” Mikael says in Jonas’s ear. He smiles innocently. Jonas can see it - Mikael thinks he’s winning now, winning Jonas over.
“Truce,” Jonas mutters. He’s not sure if he’s reminding himself or Mikael at this point, but Mikael looks down with that smile on his face. “We’re not friends.”
Mikael hums a little, nodding his head, and then he says, “We will be. That’s my talent, you know. Throwing Cheetos and making friends.”
It’s probably better that Jonas doesn’t answer then, because he’s not sure what would have come out of his mouth.
JONAS’S
Elias is shitfaced drunk and nobody knows how or why, but Mikael and Even drag him out of the party and prop him up against a tree outside, and Isak bends down next to him.
“Can he stay with you guys?” Mikael asks Even seriously.
Even shakes his head, looking sad and helpless, and he says, weakly, “We really don’t have the room. You?”
“My parents, Ev.”
“Oh. Shit, right. Yeah.” Even runs his hands through his hair nervously, looking down at Elias, who’s letting his head loll onto Isak’s shoulder.
“You lived with Eskild, right?” Elias slurs. Isak looks at Mikael with concern in his eyes.
“He can come home with me,” Jonas finds himself saying. “My moms aren’t home tonight, and neither is my sister. He can sleep it off on the couch.”
Mikael looks at Even as if for confirmation, and that pisses Jonas off, because he’s offering and he’s standing right there and it’s his house that Elias is going to crash in.
“We can walk him there,” Even nods. Isak whispers something to Elias and he stumbles up, leaning heavily on Isak, and Mikael and Even both rush to his side, leaving Jonas standing alone on the sidewalk.
Isak turns his head to Jonas. “You sure this is okay?”
Jonas shrugs in response and they start walking, or, with Elias in the middle, more like falling. Mikael backs off and lets Even and Isak half carry him, ends up walking beside Jonas, strides matching, shoes hitting the concrete dull and rhythmic.
“I’m sorry about this,” Mikael says quietly. “Thank you.”
Jonas shakes his head, even though it’s dark enough that he doesn’t think that Mikael can see it. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for Elias.”
Sighing, Mikael shoves his hands his pockets. “Doesn’t hating me get exhausting?”
“I don’t hate you. We have a truce, remember?”
“You’re still acting like you hate me,” Mikael says tiredly.
“I don’t hate you,” Jonas repeats. “I just… don’t trust you.”
Mikael’s silent beside him, and in the quiet, Jonas thinks he can hear Isak’s phone ringing, which is confirmed when Isak shakes his head and says, “Fuck, Sana’s not answering.”
“It’s not the first time he’s pulled this,” Mikael speaks up. “He’ll be okay.”
Isak looks back at Mikael unconvinced, but tucks his phone back into his pocket with his free hand and adjust his shoulder, digging it up into Elias’s armpit, and Elias slumps into the support.
“Shit, I don’t know how long I can do this,” Even gasps, holding most of Elias’s weight.
Jonas pushes past them. “Just around this corner,” he promises, moving ahead and leaving Mikael and the others behind. They drag Elias to Jonas’s front door and Jonas unlocks it and Elias hits the doorframe going in, Even pulling at his arms and Mikael’s hand resting gently on his back.
“Even, grab water,” Jonas says, and Even nods easily, disappearing into the kitchen. Jonas watches Mikael push Elias down onto the couch. “I’ll go get a blanket and something for him to puke in.”
“I got it,” Isak says, scrambling around the couch.
“Hall closet,” Jonas calls after him.
Isak waves his hand dismissively. “I know where the fuck your extra blankets are; I grew up here too.”
That leaves Jonas standing with Mikael in his living room, the two of them staring down at Elias, who’s got his eyebrows drawn together but his eyes closed, heavy and about to pass out for good.
“What’d you mean?” Jonas asks abruptly.
“What?” Mikael doesn’t turn to look at him, just faces away, watching Elias press his face into the cushions.
“When you said that it’s not the first he’s done something like this,” Jonas clarifies.
When Mikael looks down at Elias on the couch, there’s something soft that lives behind his eyes when he does so. “It’s messy,” he says simply.
Even walks back in and rests a plastic cup of water at the coffee table at Elias’s head, and Isak returns dragging a blanket and a trash can, handing the blanket to Even silently, letting him tuck Elias in.
“We’re going to head home,” Isak almost whispers beside Jonas. “I’ll text you, though?”
Jonas nods, once, and claps Isak on the shoulder. “Do you know if Mags is still at the party?”
“I never know what Mags is doing.”
“Fair enough,” Jonas grins. “I’ll text him too.”
Isak bites at his lip and tilts his head towards Mikael, asking an obvious question to Jonas.
“Go, Is, it’s fine,” he says. Isak takes one more look at Jonas, long and searching, before he nods and follows Even over to the front door.
Crouched down beside Elias’s head, one hand resting on his cheek, Mikael looks up when the door shuts. “Oh,” he says, “I guess I should get going to.”
He starts to move away and Elias twitches. “No,” Elias mutters, grabbing at Mikael’s arm in desperation. “Please don’t leave me.”
Jonas and Mikael both freeze at his words, because there’s something so terribly broken in his voice and in the way his eyes are squeezed shut so tightly. Mikael shudders out a breath and looks up at Jonas.
He considers it - Elias, despite being the one to actually hit Isak, is actually a really good guy. And he was just backing up one of his best friends, which is something that Jonas can respect, so, he concludes, he likes Elias. He doesn’t like Mikael. It’s a tradeoff, a compromise. If he makes Mikael go home, then he hurts Elias, but if he lets Mikael stay, then, well, Mikael’s in his house.
“You can stay,” Jonas says eventually. He can’t muster up the energy to put malice behind it.
Mikael blinks at him, looking kind of surprised. “Thanks. I can sleep on the floor in here.”
“I don’t hate you enough to make you sleep on the floor, man,” Jonas says, half-bitter smile on his face and tiredness creeping through his voice. “My sister will kill me if her room is messed with, like, at all, and there’s something kind of weird about you sleeping in my moms’ bed, so I’ll sleep there and you can take mine."
Mikael still looks a little shocked, like he didn’t expect this at all, didn’t expect Jonas to be bare minimum level of nice. “Okay,” he nods, “thanks.”
Jonas nods right back at him and then goes to grab some clothes from his room, brushes his teeth and falls onto his mamma’s side of the bed, his phone charging beside him and the quiet noise of Mikael shutting his bedroom door down the hall.
He sleeps without dreaming, and when he wakes up, he reaches for his phone blearily. There’s a Facebook message from Elias, thanking him and saying that he left this morning and the blanket is folded on the couch. Magnus apparently spent the night sending a series of increasingly incomprehensible messages, and Jonas squints at them until he realizes that it’s a jumbled up version of a story where the end result is Magnus getting laid. That makes one of them, Jonas thinks bitterly. He pulls himself up and makes his way to the bathroom, stares at himself in the mirror and wipes the tiredness from under his eyes. He’s running his hands through his hair when Thea opens the door, popping her gum annoyingly.
“God, did you never learn how to knock?” Jonas asks his little sister.
She tilts her head, unfazed. “There’s a boy in your bed,” Thea informs him.
Jonas is scrambling for answers. He can’t very well say, oh, he’s my guy-I-got-in-a-fight-with-and-then-hated-and-then-made-a-truce-with at expect anyone to understand, and that’s not really an explanation as to why Mikael’s in his goddamn bed, anyways. Did he not leave with Elias? Fuck. “Did Mamma see?”
“If Mamma saw, do you think you’d be standing here right now?” Thea says drily. “She’s not home yet. Mom’s waiting for you in the kitchen.” She spins out of the doorway, smiling like she’s enjoying Jonas’s pain, and he hauls ass for the kitchen. He needs to deal with this before Mamma gets back.
“Jonas Noah Vasquez,” his mother intones dramatically, raising the same eyebrows that Jonas inherited. “Please explain why I went to go check on you when we got home and instead found a sleeping shirtless boy in your bed.”
“Okay,” Jonas says, raising both hands in an offering of peace. “He’s just a friend. He needed a place to stay last night so I said he could sleep here and I slept in your bed.”
His mom looks at him, sizing him up. “You might want to get some clothes on him before Mamma gets here, because she’s not going to be as understanding as me.” She turns around and grabs her mug from the counter behind her, and then add, “I let him sleep because he looked so cute.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Jonas says quietly. She nods and tucks a smile into her coffee cup as she sips.
Jonas ducks out of the kitchen as quickly as he entered, and opening the door to his room, Jonas is quiet, the soles of his feet gentle on the hardwood floor. Mikael’s dead asleep. He’s splayed out across Jonas’s bed, one hand over his bare chest and the other resting on the mattress beside his head, which isn’t even on the pillow. Jonas’s mom is wrong. Mikael doesn’t look cute. He looks like a fucking god torn right from the comets, something ethereal in Jonas’s bed, and Jonas hates it.
“Wake up,” Jonas says. His voice sounds too loud in the soft silence of the room. He watches Mikael’s face closely, for some sign of a reaction, but nothing happens. Jonas takes a few steps closer. “Mikael.”
The second time that Jonas touches Mikael, he thinks about it way too much. When he stretches out his hand, it doesn’t look like his own, hovering over Mikael’s shoulder, and when he brushes his fingers against Mikael’s skin, it’s warm. Burning hot and it feels like it traces its way through Jonas’s entire body, landing heat in his stomach.
Mikael moans, tiny and in the back of his throat, and it would be kind of really hot if it wasn’t, you know, Mikael.
“Hey,” Jonas tells the sleeping boy under his hand, “it’s time to get up.”
That boiling feeling in Jonas’s gut gets even worse when Mikael opens his eyes. He looks confused, bleary, a delicious mixture of soft and hot in Jonas’s bed. Shit.
“Get up,” Jonas says shortly. He winces at how harsh it sounds, but Mikael looking like this, being here in his bed, is causing a few problems. Mikael blinks. And then he slowly smiles, eyes half-lidded in Jonas’s direction, teeth showing and sitting up, and everything gets a thousand times worse for Jonas.
“Morning,” Mikael mumbles, voice rumbling in his chest, and every single fucking time that Jonas thinks this is the worst the situation could possibly be, it gets worse. Fuck Mikael, honestly. “How’s Elias?” he asks.
“He went home,” Jonas answers. Mikael glances down at his own shoulder, where Jonas’s hand is still resting. “Sorry,” Jonas says quietly. He takes his hand away, fingers pulling off the skin slowly, and it burns.
Mikael swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up before Jonas can think to step back, which puts him close enough that Jonas can see his eyelashes. Close enough that Jonas can see the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He comes to the realization, then, that this is hell. And then Mikael yawns, stretches, his entire body on display, muscles rippling and the morning light reflecting off of his skin, and if Jonas thought he was in hell before, he’s just reached another layer.
“Can you hand me my shirt?” Mikael asks with a smirk. Jonas narrows his eyes, because it seems like Mikael knows exactly what he’s doing. It’d be better if Mikael had that body and that face and that hair with, like, a different personality, because he’s honestly an asshole. Mikael points at the floor beside Jonas’s foot and raises an eyebrow.
“Uh, yeah,” Jonas says, snapping himself out of a haze full of lust and hatred. He bends and grabs the shirt, the fabric soft in his hands and he passes it to Mikael carefully enough that their hands don’t touch. He steps away when Mikael pulls it over his head.
Mikael follows Jonas to the bedroom door and he thinks he can feel Mikael’s smug grin behind him. Jonas pokes his head out and looks around the corner, checking to see if his mom’s waiting to ambush them in the living room, and when he doesn’t see anything, he steps into the hallway and goes to the front door.
“Hi!” Jonas’s mom says cheerily. He almost lets out an audible groan before he catches himself. “You must be Jonas’s friend.”
“And you must be Jonas’s mom.” Mikael’s voice is bright and strong and Jonas is busy glaring at his mom, but he knows that Mikael’s smiling that charming smile. “I can see where he gets his good looks.”
“Mikael’s leaving now,” Jonas says loudly.
He watches the two of them shake hands, and Mikael says, “It was lovely to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, baby,” Jonas’s mom says. She grins at Mikael and Jonas is bitter, because everyone is obsessed with Mikael and of course he’s got Jonas’s fucking mom won over now too.
“You told your mom that I’m your friend?” Mikael laughs as Jonas ushers him to the door. “We’re friends now?”
“We are not friends.”
Mikael spins around against the door and pouts. “But you obviously said I was your friend.”
“I lied. It’s time to go,” Jonas tells him. He leans forward to reach the doorknob behind Mikael, which, he realizes as he does so, is a mistake, because now his arm is right beside Mikael’s waist and their chests are close and his mouth is right under Mikael’s ear. The alarms in his head are blaring. Things change, though, when he notices the shaky breath Mikael takes, and he realizes that he might not be the only one affected by this thing.
Interesting.
Jonas pulls back slowly, eyeing Mikael, who seems to almost be blushing. It’s a realization that Jonas can maybe, just maybe, pay Mikael back for all the discomfort and mixed feelings that he’s caused Jonas.
“Bye, Jonas,” Mikael says, but he steps towards Jonas.
The dynamic between them has shifted, the change palpable in the air, and Jonas grins, because he finally feels in control. He has the upper hand. He can throw Mikael off, make him blush, make his breath hesitate in his lungs.
“Bye, Mikael,” Jonas smiles. He opens the door and starts to walk backwards from Mikael, who scoffs. He shakes his head and then, just like that, he’s gone.
Jonas shuts the door behind him. He stands for an indeterminate amount of time, thinking things through and considering everything that’s been happening, everything that will happen. And then his phone buzzes.
Unknown Number: hey friend it’s mikael
i got your number from even, thanks for letting me stay last night
i like the way your pillow smells
Jonas: We’re not friends and what
Mikael: it smells like you
:-)
friend
And shit, judging by the way he’s left staring down at his phone, maybe Jonas doesn’t have the upper hand. Maybe this is going to be harder than he thought.