Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/10918539.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: M/M
Fandom: SKAM (TV)
Relationship: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Character: Even Bech Næsheim, Isak Valtersen, Jonas Noah Vasquez, Magnus
Fossbakken, Mahdi Disi
Additional Tags: Blood and Injury, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Explicit
Language, Graphic Descriptions of blood, extreme overuse of pet
names, Boys In Love, post 04x05
Stats: Published: 2017-05-16 Words: 2359

you love when love hurts

by thekardemomme

Summary

The one in which The Black Eye Galaxy finds its way onto Isak's face.

Notes

I know there's a million of these... now there's a million & one

Title from Real by Kendrick Lamar

See the end of the work for more notes

Isak can't really breathe around the blood clotting in his nose, and that's a really terrifying thought.
It was pouring out, and all Isak can do is think about the sound of the crack when the fist
connected with his face. He's staring up at his assailant who's staring right back, staring like he
can't quite believe he just hit Isak. There almost seems to be an apology there, trembling on the
older boy's lips. But it never falls, the boy just straightens up and starts throwing more punches.
Isak barely registers that he's hitting Mahdi and not him, flinches away like he's being targeted
again.

He feels Even hauling him up off the pavement, pulling him aside. Isak groans as blood mixed
with spit falls from his bottom lip. Even wipes it away without a second thought, and it makes Isak
hurt even worse. “Isak, are you okay? What hurts?” Even asks, and Isak could honestly laugh.
Was it not obvious? He can feel the bruises blooming underneath his skin like purple dahlias.

Isak tries to speak but he chokes, spitting up more blood. It's running down the back of his throat
and it makes him gag, makes his body lurch forward and ache and desperately cry out for relief.
He wonders if shock will ever kick in, make him go numb. Even is rubbing his back in slow
circles, but Isak's perception is hazy and foreign fingers all feel like the ones that had curled into
an angry fist and aimed themselves for his face. He struggles not to pull away from the touch.

The screaming dies down and Isak feels more hands touching his face. Gentle ones, smaller than
the ones Even has. And he knows Even's hands; Even's hands are kind and gentle, they paint
portraits and sketch skylines, they wipe tears from tacky cheeks, they dance across Isak's rib cage
at night when Isak's being too serious, they knot in Isak's curls when their owner is tongue-deep in
Isak's mouth, they wrap around Isak and pull him to come whenever his jeans get too tight to
ignore and their kisses get too heavy. He knows Even's hands and he knows that these are not
them, figures they must be a girl's, must be Sana's.

“We have to get him to a hospital,” Even says, and dread settles like ice on the platelets in Isak's
bloodstream. He hates the hospital, hasn't been since he was 14 and cracked his head open on the
mantle after dodging the ball Jonas had thrown in the house (despite Isak's mum's warning to take
it outside).

They don't make him a top priority when he gets to the hospital. He honestly didn't expect them
to, it's Friday night and he knows how triage works. But he can't stand to sit in that waiting room,
so he asks Even if he'll come help him wash off his face. The lady behind the counter directs them
to the bathroom, and Even's hand is permanent on his hip as they go inside and go to the sink.

The bathroom feels more like an exam room than a bathroom, but there's a sink and some towels
and that's all Isak needs. He wets a cloth and then looks up at the mirror to see where he needs to
wipe, and his reflection knocks the breath out of him. He's staring at himself except it hardly looks
like him.

His mottled face looks like its splattered with red wine, his bruise dark and gross. He looks like
he's been to hell and back; rusty colored blood down his mouth and neck, staining the collar on his
shirt. His stomach seizes and he leans over the sink between this second and the next, emptying
the contents of his stomach into the bowl. It's mostly just blood and beer.

Even is rushing over in a second, rubbing Isak's back and coddling him through it. Isak stands and
shoves away his hands, anger coursing through him like lava. “Isak, darling,” Even tries to soothe,
reaching for him again but letting his hands fall when Isak glares. “Let me help, baby.”

“I don't want your fucking help,” Isak chokes, turning on the faucet and washing his vomit down
the drain. It swirls around the drain and finally goes. “I don't want you to see me like this, Even, I
—” He throws up again, this time considerably less. When he's done he wipes his mouth with the
back of his hand. “I'm sorry, I just..”

“It's okay,” Even soothes, stepping over and taking the rag. He wipes the blood away for Isak,
and, Isak guesses, any remnants of his vomiting that may have stuck to his chin. Isak steps
forward for a hug, but then Jonas is poking his head in and asking if everything is okay.

They don't let Even back into the exam room with him, so he has to put on a brave face. He's fine,
after all. The doctor basically confirms that — his nose isn't broken and he only has a minor
concussion, and his black eye will heal in time. They give him a prescription for some pain
medications and tell him to take it easy for a few weeks, they also warn him to watch out for any
signs of post concussion syndrome.
When he comes out of the exam room, all the boys stand immediately. They're all staring at him
like they're preparing for the worst. And Isak is honestly too dazed and tired to go into all of it, so
he just says, “I'm fine. My nose isn't broken. Only a slight concussion. I can go home.”

The whole group does a collective sigh of relief, easy smiles spreading across their faces. Isak
hugs his boys and thanks them for coming, but when they part ways outside of the hospital, he
allows himself to sag into Even's side. Even wraps his arm around Isak's waist and presses a kiss
to his temple.

Their flat is dark when they get home. Even flips on the light and Isak cringes, the light hurting his
head after being in the dark outside for so long. They'd been in the waiting room for hours. Even
instantly apologizes and turns them off, blindly leading Isak to their bedroom where he turns on
only a dim lamp.

“Let's get you out of that shirt,” Even says quietly. Isak doesn't want to look down at it again,
doesn't want to see the bloodstains. He lets Even take it off of him, but he makes a soft noise of
protest when Even goes to put it in the laundry bin. Even turns back, giving Isak a confused look.

“Throw it away,” Isak says quietly. Even looks down at the shirt, holds it out in front of him. The
bloodstains are blooming on it like roses, like a knife had sheathed itself in his chest as a dagger
did Juliet's in Even's favorite film. “I don't want to remember it. I don't want that shirt anymore.
Please throw it out.” Even balls it up and tosses it in the trash bin, and Isak lets out a shaky breath.

Even helps him out of the rest of his clothes, putting those in the laundry. He lets Even dress him
in Even's clothes, sweatpants that are a little too long and a hoodie that smells like Even's worn it
recently — like cigarette smoke and Dolce & Gabbana cologne. Isak burrows into it and watches
as Even sheds his clothes, stepping into sweatpants and one of Isak's hoodies. His boyfriend slides
into bed next to him, smooths his hand over Isak's good cheek and presses a kiss to his lips.

“How are you?” Isak asks, shifting to face Even. Thank god he sleeps on the right side of he bed
and can lay on his right side to face Even properly. Thank god it was the left side of his face that
was injured.

Even frowns, “I should be asking you that question. You're the one who's hurt.”

“Not all wounds are visible.”

“Yeah, but...” Even lightly touches the swollen bruise that surrounds his eye, and Isak knows the
older boy can feel it throb under his fingers, like it's keeping time with a tune, with the crescendo
of a symphony. “Your injury is very visible. And I want to make sure you're okay. Do you need
ice?” Isak shakes his head. The pain is more dulled now, and though ice would probably help, he
really doesn't want Even to get up. “I'm going to get you ice. You need to get that swelling
down.”

Even starts to get up, and that's what makes Isak finally crack, like glass frosted over with ice. He
lets out a sob — can't really help it — and reaches out to try and fist Even's hoodie. The fabric
slips through his fingers but it doesn't really matter, because Even whips around as soon as he
hears Isak crying. He's back in the bed before Isak can ask him not to go, gently pulling Isak into
his chest. Isak buries his face into Even's neck as best he can without hurting himself, crying into
the warm skin there.

“Baby, please don't cry,” Even murmurs, rubbing the boy's back slowly. “It's okay. You're okay,
I'm okay. Everyone's okay. Everything's okay.” Isak only cries harder, his nose still blocked so it
sounds like he's choking. “Issy, sweetheart, you're gonna make me cry.”
“Hurts,” he whimpers.

“I know, that's why I'm going to get you—”

Isak tightens his grip on Even's shirt, and Even in turn hugs Isak tighter. “Don't go. I need you
here, please, I—”

“Baby, it's just to the kitchen. I'll be right back. I'm not going anywhere. Less than fifteen feet
away, darling.”

“No,” Isak cries. Even nuzzles his face into Isak's hair, placing kisses to the crown of his head.
Isak feels Even's hands tightening around his sides, holding him even closer. “I'm sorry about your
Bakka friends. Or, Mikael. I didn't recognize the other boys, but I.. I'm sorry. I don't know what I
did to piss them off, I just..”

“Shh. Don't apologize. It's not your fault, baby. None of this is your fault.” A pause. “I'm sorry I
keep fucking things up. I should've told you everything from the beginning.”

Isak pulls back, cups Even's cheeks. Even is wiping Isak's tears before Isak can say anything, so
he forces Even to stop and listen to him. “You don't get to do that. You don't get to tell me it's not
my fault and then start blaming yourself. That's not how this works.” He lightly taps their noses
together, just lightly. Very lightly. It hurts him a little but it makes Even smile, so it's worth it. “It's
not your fault. End of discussion.”

“Okay. But Issy, please let me get you ice. You're in pain, you're still crying.” Even presses kisses
to Isak's tears, apologizing quietly when he kisses one of Isak's bruises. “Don't cry.”

“No. You're staying right here. Forever.” He loops his arms around Even's neck, sighing happily
when Even hugs him again. “These bruises make me look badass, don't you think? Ice will ruin
it.”

Even huffs out a quiet laugh. “Super badass. Defending my honor like that was so hot, babe.”

“Remind me to tell you about the Yazuka fights from first year, then. That should really get you
going.”

Even gapes, “Are you joking?! I've seen pictures of you in first year, you were just a baby! And
you got into gang fights?! The fuck?!”

“I did it to defend Jonas. They jumped him and I orchestrated it with Chris, Eva's hookup guy. I
pulled some strings to defend him. Basically, I'm the best best friend ever to exist.” He takes a
deep breath from his spot in Even's neck, stops his crying for the most part. “And I was definitely
not a fucking baby. I was 16.”

“A baby!” Even insists dramatically. Isak can feel his chuckle vibrating from his spot curled
against his chest. “You're still a baby. You're my baby.”

“Am not.”

“You are my baby.”

Isak sighs. “If you tell anyone that I'm your baby, I'll cut off your balls.” He pulls back slightly,
tilts his chin up in a way that he hopes is still enticing despite him looking like shit. “But yes. I'm
your baby.”

Even accepts his invitation, ducking down to press their lips together. They manage to french kiss
 for a few glorious moments before Isak's nose starts to hurt and he has to pull away, settling his
face back in the safety of Even's neck, his body back in the safe enclosure of Even's embrace. “I
love you,” Isak whispers.

“I love you, too, my baby.” Even presses another light kiss to Isak's forehead, can't seem to stop
kissing him. Isak understands why Even is being so tactile — he probably feels guilty and also
immensely scared of what happened to Isak today. Isak is pretty scared, too. “That black eye is
pretty badass. The bruise looks like a galaxy. All the blues and purples. It looks like something out
of a cosmic photography portfolio. Or a painting of space.”

Isak feels Even's fingers lightly pressing against the bruise, so he bites his lip against the pain.
“That's one of our parallel universes, you know. It's the Black Eye Galaxy which, yes, is a real
thing. It's 17 million lightyears away and it has 100 billion stars. In that universe, you and I are
together like always, only I never actually got this black eye and you talked with Mikael and we're
all living happily ever after.” Isak yawns, snuggling further under the duvet and impossibly closer
to Even. “It's also sometimes called the Sleeping Beauty Galaxy, which is appropriate because I'm
about to fall asleep.”

“Sleep, then, beauty,” Even whispers, a fond lilt to his voice. “I love you and I love our little
galaxy.”

“I love you, too.” Isak snuffles a bit as Even settles for sleep, too. “Between you and me, the
Milky Way Galaxy is my favorite one.”

End Notes

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