Meerkatmayhem

Jere

I've decided to start writing you letters. I don't think I'll ever send a single one of these. I don't think I'll ever have the courage. But I need to get these words out, process them and write them down, so...

I thought about writing you a song. Songs. Songs about you. But I don't think I'm ready to be seen like that, by the guys. I mean, I think they know... But I'm not ready for us all to know what we know. You know?

But if I’m honest, you’re already in so many of my songs. Did you know that?

I hope you had a good midsummer. It looked like it, on your social media. And in the photos you sent me.

You said you wished I was there. Part of me wishes for that too. The part of me that imagines you and me together, always. The part that already lives a life in love with you, the part that in some other world found it in himself to confess. That part wishes I was there, laughing and dancing with you. Kissing you as we watch the sunset.

Another part of me is glad I'm not there. It's the part of me that knows we'll never be the way I wish we could be. That part needs space, needs time away from you. That part needs to heal in between every time I see you.

That part would have spent the night throwing glances your way, hoping no-one would notice. That part would have eventually inched his way closer to you. Too close. That part would have tortured me by finding reasons to hug you, to pull you close. That part would have inhaled your scent and remembered it later, alone in bed.

We don't celebrate midsummer here the way you do. I didn't have a special weekend like that. But this time a year from now I will. I want to share it with you.

There are so many things I want to share with you.

Can I? Should I?

A year from now I want to have clarity. A year from now I want to look at you and I want the different parts of me to have become one. A year from now I want to either have you or be over you.

Which one do you think it will be?

I feel safe asking you that here. You'll never read this.

“I breathe fine,” Matthew said. “No one is upset with my breathing.”

“Your pulmonary tests say different, 19,” Leon spat out. “I know everyone is claiming you recovered fine from that fucking shit show in Vegas, but –”

“My name is Matthew,” Matthew snapped, “or Chucky if you’re feeling overly friendly.” 

Something passed over Leon’s face and it looked like Matthew won a small victory, because he nodded. “Fine, Matthew, you need to eat kale, and beets, and pumpkin and I’d really like if you considered eating a fruit that wasn’t in juice form.” 

Matthew took a deep breath and summoned every inch of the midwestern oldest son he had in him. “Fine, okay. I give in. Feed me whatever you want here and I’ll be a good boy and behave.”

Okay, so maybe not the level his mother would have liked him to achieve, but still. 

“Great, what about at home. Do you have a chef?” 

Matthew barked out a laugh. “No, bro, I have meal kits.” 

Leon dramatically huffed and Matthew thought he heard elite athletes with bricks for brains but couldn't be sure. “Then i’m going shopping with you to show you what to do when you’re at home.”

Matthew could think of a few things he’d like better – salsa dancing on the sun, sliding down a banister covered in barbed wire and landing in a vat of vinegar, having one of Ovi’s slapshots hit him in the nuts – but he also knew he had no choice. “Fine,” he sighed. “I have two more physio cycles, and then I’ll come get you and we can go to Publix.” 

Leon nodded and stalked away. 

Sasha got up really quickly and Matthew pulled him back down. “Where are you off to?”

“I want Alison to be there with her cameras because you two killing each other in the produce section might win her some sort of social media award,” Sasha grinned. 

Matthew put his head down on the table and let out a loud groan. What had he gotten himself into? 

~*~

lovefool by @punanenmarli, fanboy Jere and rockstar Bojan

I'm lost in search for you by @saffei, timeline magical shenaningans that take your breath away

Signs of love (that I walked past) by @saffei, instant classic with the dumbest boys ever

Easy by @seokoilua, the best Bojan as always. summer cabin fic, so atmospheric

jos sulla on toinen by @tinymehilainen, Lapland vacation with misunderstandings and pining

ota vielä yks yö lainaa by @ddarkcrown, summer cabin smut

I'd Stop the World to Melt With You by @dragon0blood, time loop to die for

your (Lust for Life) has gone away by @mitochondriencocktail, outer space & tentacles, no but really this is stunning

In the dark, softly. by @cinder-rose, magical (multiple pairings)

Leaked nudes by @electron-road-suspect, crack fic galore (multiple pairins)

Memento Mori by mrdesperation, just in case someone has forgot this classic

“Alright, just – yeah, OK, through here now –” “It’s fine, I’m not –” If Nace wasn’t busy juggling the hotel room door with one hand and a very drunk bandmate with the other, he’d definitely allow himself a moment to facepalm. As it is, he rolls his eyes and says firmly, “Just get inside, yeah?” When it had become obvious that Jan had had at least one drink too many, it had seemed like a no brainer for Nace to volunteer to take him back. He was starting to flag as it was, and knew it was the perfect excuse for him to call it a night himself. Jure and Kris were still very much in party mode and all too happy to agree, and Bojan had disappeared three hours earlier in the direction of the Finnish delegation with barely a backwards glance. Out of all of them, Jan seemed at first glance to be the easiest to handle while drunk. Whereas Bojan would grow melancholy and Kris would grow giggly, and Jure was prone to bolting at shocking speeds for someone who seemed to have forgotten how feet worked, Jan would instead be affectionate – the very definition of cuddly and pliant. Which should make it all easier, were it not for Nace’s own feelings about his friend’s apparent best impression of a climbing vine. He’s far too aware of the way one of Jan’s arms is wound tightly around his back, hand trailing clumsily across the side of his stomach, the other hand crossing over to grab a handful of Nace’s shirt as if that will help steady him. He knows he’s going to be feeling this long after Jan has let him go. The eight steps from the door to Jan’s bed take far longer than it should even for their two headed, four legged self, and relief washes over him as they finally come to a halt. “Come on, sit down –” Jan spins to face him, still unsteady enough to very much need Nace for balance. “Mmm, a big strong man to wrestle me into bed? Just what I’ve always wanted.” Despite everything – including the way he has to struggle to catch Jan, who seems to be determined to be dipped like a romantic heroine – Nace can’t help but laugh at his apparent attempt at a seductive expression. There’s something about winking that he can’t quite manage even when sober, and that amount of eyebrow waggling had never been sexy on anyone, even Jan. Slowly, gradually, he manages to deposit Jan onto the bed, prising his hands from him. He can’t just leave him for the night in this state, so he snags an empty glass from the side and goes to fill it in the bathroom. There’s a soft thump just after he turns the tap back off, and when he emerges it’s to find Jan has toppled over onto his back, lying almost like a starfish. It’s endearing, but then so much of what Jan does is endearing to him – has been, in fact, for months now. Still, he needs to make sure Jan is alright. “Come on, sit up. You need to drink this.” Jan glances over and scrunches his face in disapproval. “No.” “Jan, you have to get some water in you, you’re drunk.” "I’m not drunk!” Jan protests, shaking his head fully side to side before giving up and peering rather dizzily up at Nace. “Could a drunk person do... this?" His hands fumble towards his chest before pushing out towards Nace, before moving back in and out again. Nace shrugs, confused. "You’re not doing anything." Jan looks appalled. "But… I sent you my love. Did you… did you not get it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look!” Jan thumps his tangled hands against his chest, gesturing towards them with his head in a far more exaggerated motion than seems necessary. “It's my heart, Nacko!”

Nace squints a bit more than the situation really calls for. “Is it? It looks more like a potato.” Jan struggles to prop himself up on his elbows, suddenly fixing Nace with an intensely serious look that does far more to him than a simple glance from a bandmate should. He knows for a fact he’ll be filing that away with the memory of Jan’s hands on him, no matter how much of a bad idea that might be.

“You need to put your glasses on,” Jan says, then seems to pause to consider. “I mean, you always do, really. Usually just because you look extra hot when you have them on, but right now for actual eyesight issues.” There’s a sour stab in his gut that he hurries to smooth over. As reserved as he’d been when they’d first met, Jan has never been cruel to him – none of them have been – and Nace is determined not to keep living his life waiting for the past to repeat itself. Jan isn’t making fun of him. He knows that. At worst he’s paying him a genuine – if very clumsy – compliment, one friend to another; at best… Well, Nace wants to live more positively, but he has to draw the line somewhere. So instead he rolls his eyes again, smiling to soften his next words. “Maybe you need to stop talking rubbish.” “Ugh, it’s like a dagger!” Jan declares dramatically, flopping back onto his pillow with the back of his hand cast over his eyes. “Well, I’m no paramedic but I hear water is good for stab wounds. Here, drink up.” He crouches by the bed and helps Jan to heave himself back into a sitting position. Despite the face he pulls, the guitarist accepts the water and drains the glass quickly enough that he’s gasping for breath once it’s empty. Nace is just about congratulating himself on a mission well accomplished and considering his bed in the room next door when Jan’s head whips around and he finds himself pinned again by that same intense stare. “I wish you could see you like I see you, Nacko,” Jan murmurs, and then suddenly he’s trailing his fingers across Nace’s cheek. “And not just how you look. Just, like… all of you.” Nace’s breath catches in his lungs. He’s seen this kind of scene in his mind’s eye a thousand times or more since Hamburg, what had begun as just idle daydreams becoming steadily more insistent: Jan, beautiful as ever, leaning close, whispering to Nace how much he likes him, wants him, needs him. But then the moment passes, and he can see that for all Jan’s seriousness, his eyes are still unfocused. This close, he’s hit by the acrid smell of alcohol on his breath, and his hand on Nace’s face is just slightly too heavy. He catches it in his own before it can blunder into his dangling earring, lacing their fingers together firmly. “Why don’t you tell me all about it in the morning?” he says, trying to sound encouraging. The last thing he wants to do is cut off Jan’s train of thought, but they can’t do this right now, not when the power is so clearly tilted towards him. “Can’t,” Jan says mournfully. The shift in his mood his like whiplash. “You gonna forget?” Nace teases, squeezing his hand. Anything to keep things light.  Jan, however, drops his gaze, shaking his head. “I’ll be embarrassed.” It comes out at barely more than a mumble. “I’ll pretend it didn’t happen.”

He looks so sad in that moment that Nace can't help but feel sorry for him.

(And perhaps just a little hopeful for himself at the same time.) “There’s no need for that,” he reassures, ducking to catch Jan’s eye again. “You can either talk to me about it tomorrow or I’ll talk to you about it next weekend, after the final. How about that?”

For the longest moment Jan doesn't respond, but just as Nace starts to think he's said the wrong thing, there's a nod. It's small, hesitant, but a nod all the same. “OK. That… that sounds good.” Finally he meets Nace’s gaze again. There’s a different kind of seriousness about him now, all attempts at seduction gone and replaced instead by earnestness. “I won’t be drunk then.” “Exactly.” Nace smiles and presses Jan’s hand closer to his cheek for one moment before standing. Their hands stay linked all the same, but which one of them is hanging on he has no idea. “And Jan?” “Mmm?” For a moment, Nace wonders if he should just leave things as they are. Jan is still drunk, and he needs to leave the ball in his court as much as possible. But… a small word of encouragement can’t hurt, can it? He takes a deep breath. “There’s nothing to worry about, alright? When you talk to me, that is.” Any doubts he has disappear the second Jan’s face breaks into a smile again. 

“You're really kind. That's one of the reasons why I love you.” He wishes for half a second that he would allow himself to linger here, maybe even kick his shoes off and cuddle up behind Jan on the hotel bed to make sure he sticks to resting, but he just as quickly squashes it. Things wouldn’t even be awkward in the morning; they’d be awkward the second Jure stumbles in from the rest of his partying, and the last thing he wants is to make Jan feel uncomfortable and destroy any chance of their conversation. So instead he allows himself the one small compromise of tugging Jan’s hand up to lay a kiss gently on the inside of his wrist – the small, sudden intake of breath is the only reason he thinks Jan’s smile should ever have to falter – and reluctantly untangles their fingers.

“I'll see you in the morning.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jan mumbles, flopping back down onto the mattress and burrowing into the pillow. “G’night, Nacko.”