hamburgar

It was a usual tuesday and it was pretty cold and dark outside, when I played Dbd. And cold and dark was this killer too, when he played legion. Ladys and gentleman, thank you for your attention.

- rep

-rep toxic

It was an unusually warm January afternoon in Ulsteinvik, the kind of day where the sun peeked shyly from behind the clouds as if testing its own bravery. Jogeir, a lanky 27-year-old with a mop of unruly brown hair, decided it was the perfect day to indulge in a little guilty pleasure—a Stratos chocolate bar and an ice-cold Urge soda. He didn’t even bother with a jacket, just threw on his favorite hoodie and sneakers and stepped out the door.

The corner store, a cozy little place run by an elderly couple who seemed to know everyone, was only a five-minute walk away. Jogeir shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets as he walked, the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Stratos and Urge had been his go-to combo since he was a kid. It was like a hug for his tastebuds—bubbly citrus and creamy chocolate, a perfect pair.

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped into the store. Inside, it smelled faintly of fresh bread and detergent, a strangely comforting mix. Jogeir made a beeline for the candy aisle. His eyes scanned the shelves, and there it was—the unmistakable blue wrapper of the Stratos bar. He reached out, plucked it from the shelf, and turned toward the cooler for the second half of his mission.

And that’s when he saw him.

Standing in front of the soda fridge was another guy, maybe a year or two older than Jogeir. He had wavy blond hair that seemed to catch the sunlight streaming through the store window, and he wore a leather jacket that gave him an effortless kind of cool. But it was his smile that stopped Jogeir in his tracks—bright, genuine, and directed straight at him.

“Urge, huh?” the guy said, holding up a bottle as Jogeir approached the cooler. “Good choice. Way better than Solo.”

Jogeir laughed nervously. “Yeah, Solo’s too sweet. Urge’s got that bite, you know?”

The guy nodded in agreement, then tilted his head. “Haven’t seen you around here before. New in the neighborhood?”

“No, I’ve lived here a while,” Jogeir said, feeling oddly self-conscious under the stranger’s gaze. “I guess I’m just not very… noticeable.”

The guy chuckled. “Well, you’ve got my attention now. I’m Emil, by the way.”

“Jogeir,” he replied, his name sounding clumsy in his own ears. “Nice to meet you.”

For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Jogeir felt his cheeks flush. It wasn’t the kind of blush you get when you’re embarrassed—it was something else, something warmer. He’d never really thought about guys in this way before, but something about Emil felt… different. Exciting.