I hear the soft thudding sound of bare feet on wood flooring, breaking through the sounds of the night, breaking through my deep sleep. Endless, troubled pacing. The sound of a restless Jonne at… I look at the clock… four in the morning.

Exactly what I wanted to deal with at such a time of night.

That’s not to say Jonne is a burden – never, ever that, but… this is not the first time he’s woken me up in the middle of the night with his sleeplessness.

I sigh and pull myself out of bed, sitting on the edge for a moment, reorienting myself with my body before I will try to stand up; never can trust my legs after a sleep like that.

Then make my way to the living area, where I know he is, not only because the rest of his flat is carpeted, but because I know he likes to look outside through the patio doors while he paces; helps him think, he says. Gives him something to focus on other than the little box he lives in.

I understand that feeling sometimes, especially when we’ve just come home from touring. Seems like Jonne feels it always, though. Like where he lives is not really a home for him. That’s always been an important feeling for me, and Jonne has told me many times that my flat is perfectly me. I think he’s right. Jonne’s flat… it almost looks like a store catalog or something, a cookie-cutter mold of what a room ‘should’ look like. It’s almost as if he doesn’t know how to make it his home.

If I were Jonne, maybe I would pace at this hour, too.


Lauri doesn’t get it. He sleeps all the time. He doesn’t get that it’s not safe to sleep, that sleep is a seductive, evil thing that draws you in and sometimes doesn’t let you back out.

I have never, ever liked sleeping. And it may sound paranoid, but I’ve tried to get as little sleep as I need for as long as I can remember. Seems like I always have a lot more time to get things done, too.

Lauri… he gets addicted easily, and sleep has attracted him with lustful power, but he doesn’t see the danger; he’s too laid back to.

I know I’m not crazy; after all, Kristian had felt the same way too, I’m sure (though maybe that isn’t a good thing)…

Kristian was so fucked up he would sometimes pass out for days or be up for what seemed like weeks, but before all that – I remember – he’d been pretty paranoid; like me, times ten. Which is maybe a bit fanatical, but still… The whole idea of it makes me shudder, the thought that when I close my eyes I may never open them again – and if I do: how incredibly vulnerable I let myself be while I was asleep.

Tonight, Lauri’s sleeping at my flat, and I’m up pacing, again, trying to stay quiet, not wanting to wake him.


I pad into the livingroom, wearing only my boxers, hugging my arms against my body to shield against the chilly air, rather unsuccessfully.

“What are you doing awake?” I ask, clearly startling Jonne; he jumps and I feel bad immediately for not announcing my presence more quietly.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he says, holding his chest. “I just… couldn’t sleep. You know how it goes.”

“Sorry,” I apologize, sitting down on the couch. He takes the cue and sits down in the chair across from me. “What’s keeping you from sleeping?”

“You know I hate to sleep, I just… decided not to,” he tells me, not convincing me at all.

“So you decided to pace? You only do that when something’s bothering you. And you keep saying ‘you know.’ You do that, too.”

He frowns; I know him better than he thought I did, apparently. “I’m just… stuck on a song, is all.”

“Yeah?” I suspect that’s not all.

“Yeah. It’s… about Kristian. Make me a chocolate milkshake and I’ll talk to you about it.” He gives me those puppy dog eyes, and I know I couldn’t resist even if I wanted to.

“A what?” I’m taken by surprise.

“A chocolate milkshake. Don’t you remember that one time when it was thunderstorming and I got all scared and you made me one and we talked until it stopped, and didn’t even realize?”

I do remember that, and I smile fondly at the memory, having forgotten. “Alright. I’ll make you a chocolate milkshake. Come on.”

I take him by the arm and lead him to the kitchen, and he sits on one of the barstools as I gather up the ingredients, kicking his feet. I wait to ask further questions until I’ve finished, because the mixer is rather loud, and I don’t want to scream over it. He watches me the entire time. Finally it’s finished and I grab two glasses, pouring some for us both.

He takes a drink and comes up with a chocolate moustache, which I have to laugh at; it’s so Jonne. He giggles, and I decide to wait a moment more, not wanting to spoil his fun.

But darkness clouds his eyes suddenly and he begins to speak, of his own volition, and I realize from the look on his face that this is bothering him more than he had originally let on.

“So, I have this song that I’ve written, and it’s really… blunt, and I’m not sure whether I should keep it, edit it, or just trash it altogether.”

“Mhm. And what’s it called?” I ask, curious.


I resist the urge to laugh; he wasn’t joking. That is pretty blunt, especially for Jonne. “I think I get the feeling already. Hm. Well, I think if it’s what you truly, honestly feel, then you shouldn’t edit it. You should either trash it or keep it, and that’s up to you. But if it’s honest, like I said, I think you should just put it out there. Be bold, I know you can be.”

He chews his lip for a moment. “But what if he gets angry with me?”

“Then he gets angry with you,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“I suppose he already is angry with me, anyway,” he says finally, sighing. “Alright. You’re right, Lauri. I’ll play it for you in the morning, you’ll see.”

“I’d like that,” I tell him, giving him a little smile; I always love it when he lets me hear something he’s been working on and he knows it. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Can we… go back to bed?” He asks finally, shyly, looking absolutely adorable.

“Of course we can,” I nod, gathering our empty glasses and putting them in the sink – for now. Jonne is more important than dishes.

I lead him back to bed, crawling under the covers, pulling him close to me. He lays his head on my chest and is asleep in a matter of minutes.

I have to smile; at least I’ve cured his insomnia for one night. And I don’t mind having him this close, either. Not at all.


When I wake up the next morning with my head on Lauri’s chest, I can’t help the feeling of warmth and safety that spreads through my limbs and down my body, a soft smile breaking out over my face at the realization.

It’s not so scary at all, sleeping next to him. And, I can watch over him while he sleeps this way, and make sure he doesn’t slip away from me. I think I can feel myself starting to… well, feel things for him, and that is scary, so I push it to the back of my mind for now, wanting to enjoy him; it’s not often that I get the chance to spend all night in his arms, and now have a wonderful opportunity to wake him as softly and lovingly as I can manage.

I contemplate for a minute what the best way will be, wanting to see those beautiful eyes open and look at me the way Lauri looks at me, all love and desire and belief in me, always.

Slowly I lower my lips to his neck and start to kiss, softly, wetly, tasting his skin with my tongue, knowing that he likes to be kissed here, below and just behind his ear.

At first he just moans something in his sleep, but with a bit more attention his eyes blink open slowly. He gives me a deep, husky, purring sound now that he’s awake, and I can’t help but be glad I decided to wake him.

“Hello, Lauri,” I smile at him, laying down beside him, studying his eyes. He pulls me closer and I can feel the… effects my kisses have had on him, and can’t help adding, “And good morning to you too,” looking down, implying with a wicked grin.

Lauri of course goes furiously blushy as he tends to do when I say something like that, and tries to hide behind his curls, which is quite adorable really.

“Well, you’re the one who decided to wake me up like that,” he points out, giving me a soft good-morning kiss.

“Mmm, yes I am,” I purr lazily against his lips, giving him a loving smile. “I couldn’t help myself, really. You were laying there sleeping like a baby, looking so angelic…”

“And you couldn’t help but corrupt me?” Lauri offers teasingly, laughing at me, earning himself a sharp jab in the ribs.

“Oh, fuck off, will you.”

He snuggles me closer. “I love you, Jonne. You know it.”

I have to smile; I do so love his arms around me, and I’m not entirely minding the fact that he’s so close to me in his current condition. Not at all… “Yes, I do.” I agree.

Some time later, after a quick shower together and a bit of fooling around, we’re having a cup of coffee, and I see the glasses from our milkshakes last night in the sink and remember that I was going to play the song for him, the one I wrote about Kristian – the one he thinks I should keep.

“Did you want to… to hear it?” I ask, interrupting the quiet – I think we’ve both been lost in our thoughts, sitting here.

He looks up and I just as I realize how random that was, I see he knows exactly what I mean, and nods. “I’d love to, if you still want to play it for me.”

I smile at him, setting down my cup of coffee. “I’ll just go get the acoustic then, hold on.”


Jonne sits across from me in a kitchen chair, strumming a melody, and starting to sing lyrics that are surprisingly blunt and hurtful, even – though deserved, I well know. I suppose he’s always been that way in his lyrics, thinking about it, he does have quite a talent for throwing such eloquent daggers in his writing sometimes. But this… it doesn’t hide behind anything.

He’s sitting there in that chair getting so lost in his words and his song, showing me the pain he felt when he wrote it, and I know that he has to keep it.

When he’s finished, I stand up and walk over to him, taking his hand in my own, nodding my head. “It’s painful, and I think you should definitely keep it. You’re at your best when you’re raw, and it is, and it’s honest, and I love it, Jonne.”

Having my approval seems to mean the world to him, the way his face lights up, and I know it’s because he knows he won’t have Kristian’s. Not that Kristian would even talk to him…

“Will you help me show it to the other guys?” he asks me quietly, and I melt, poor Jonne, he’s really been hurt so much and he doesn’t deserve a bit of it.

“Of course I will. Thank you for showing it to me. It’s brave, Jonne, and I’m proud of you for it.”

His eyes light up and my heart skips a beat, he’s that happy to hear me say I’m proud of him? Beautiful.

He sets down his acoustic and stands up next to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “We should really do those dishes, you know. I’ll wash if you’ll rinse.”

It surprises me, but suddenly I can’t think of anything in the world that sounds better than doing the dishes with Jonne.

“Okay,” I smile.