Archive of Our Own ^beta

The view of the Eiffel Tower from Bojan’s hotel room made his stomach clench. Perhaps it was because he had not been eating so well on the tour, not since leaving Finland. Or it could have been just anxiety. Too many gigs crammed into so little time, because they couldn’t afford a more relaxed schedule. Bojan had convinced himself it would be okay.

France was known for its food, too bad he wasn’t feeling hungry. Maybe he could nibble on a baguette or something, but anything richer than that seemed like too much.

Finnish bread had been so nice.

Earlier they had bumped onto some fans who were lovely and that cheered Bojan up, but now he was wallowing in misery again.

He tried watching videos and listening to some favorite tunes, but nothing was doing the trick. Jere had assured Bojan that he could always call, though the Slovene suspected he had already used up that offer many times over. He didn’t expect the Finn would answer, but often when Bojan assumed that, Jere did, anyway.

“I’m feeling super anxious again”, Bojan confessed, though just hearing Jere’s voice and seeing his face eased his mind a bit.

“I am sorry, that sucks. Wish I can hug you. Where are you?”

Bojan turned his phone so that Jere could see the view from the window.

“Big Ben”, the Finn joked. “Or it’s the falling tower, yes?”

“Exactly, the Leaning Tower of Pisa. It’s just having a particularly straight and stable day, which I’m not.”

Jere chuckled.

“You are eating?” he asked and then, not remembering the word, he mimed a baguette.

“That’s a pretty long dick.”

That had Jere burst into laughter. It made Bojan feel much better, though also miss him even more. It had been just a few weeks, but already he was aching with longing, and it would still be several more months before Ruisrock. Bojan wasn’t sure how he’d survive.
 

Jere’s laughter really was the best medicine. He looked so beautiful on the tiny screen, so close yet so far.

“Paris is so romantic, maybe we go together some day”, he said.

“Yeah, right.”

“I am serious, I think we visit holiday together some time. Me and you. Maybe not Paris, but some warm, nice place where everyone don’t know us. Sun. Swim. You put sun cream on me.”

“If only that worked out”, Bojan said.

Jere sighed at his reaction, which admittedly was unnecessarily colored by Bojan’s negative spirals. The thought was certainly lovely, Bojan just wasn’t sure Jere instilling these obviously impossible ideas into his head was going to help.

“I miss you so much”, he said. “It was way easier to perform with you watching. I love this job, but sometimes it’s so difficult.”

If he tried hard, Bojan could imagine the scent of Jere’s skin in his nose, the warmth of his body against him.

“I miss you too, Bojan. I wish I can help. Maybe I can help.”

“Oh?”

He half expected Jere just mime another elongated piece of bread. Maybe that would have helped a little.

“We make song together, then you play it at gig and you hear me there, with you?”

The idea warmed Bojan’s heart, inevitably he just had his doubts about it, too.

“You mean ‘Onks kellään denssiä’ song?” he asked.

“We make a good song and play it together, then you play it in Paris, London, Japan…”

The collaboration song had been in the talks for almost a year now, it had become almost a mythical being. Then there was that moment of inspiration at the Tallinn soundcheck and Bojan had got so excited, but he wasn’t convinced it would go anywhere.

“I need something concrete, not these endless pipedreams.”

“Give me melody”, Jere said and he actually sounded enthusiastic. “We start right now.”

“Huh?”

“Whistle or hum or something. I record with laptop.”

Bojan whistled the first tune that came to his mind, which probably sounded as random as it was.

“Can I rap on it?” he asked.

“You can anything. Even rap Finnish if you want. Just don’t rap better than Käärijä or it’s embarrass for me.”

Bojan chuckled. The idea of doing some bits in Finnish was intriguing, even if he probably wasn’t bold enough for that.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“We make song and we go holiday together.”

“When?”

“Before your next Paris gig”, Jere answered.

Would they ever play in Paris again? Bojan wasn’t even convinced of that. But Jere’s tone was actually serious and made Bojan want to believe it.

“You promise?”

“I promise”, Jere said and blew him a kiss, which was transmitted all the way from Finland to France.

After the call, he texted Bojan a selection promo shots of a holiday destination. Sunshine, golden sand, a turquoise sea and palm trees. Bojan just wanted him, but some summer probably couldn’t hurt.

“Is that from Greece?” he asked.

“Maybe it is, maybe it’s not, maybe it’s little. But I take my Bojan there.”

My Bojan. It warmed his heart to imagine they could actually go on a little getaway together, just the two of them. Probably it would never be reality despite Jere’s assurances, but who knew.

Later, Bojan rolled his eyes fondly as Jere sent him a file titled eating_dick_in_paris.mp3, like a serious artist would do. Surprisingly, though the audio was crude, it was actually a decent draft built on the melody Bojan made up in the moment. Perhaps it could become something.

Or they could come up with a different melody, the world was full of them. That wasn’t the problem.

Jere’s sultry voice was there, singing and rapping for him, and the excitement he had exhibited was catching onto Bojan.

The world had so many good things in it, like Jere. Perhaps even these plans might be possible someday, Bojan would believe it when it actually happened.

Now, his stomach was grumbling and it was time for some crusty baguette.