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A sliver of light spills onto the carpet as Joonas opens the bathroom door, skin still damp and warm from the shower. Joel only manages to catch a glimpse of gold curls before the light is turned off and the room is once again bathed in darkness. There's a gentle shuffle when Joonas pulls the covers from underneath his own mattress and slips into bed, followed by a relieved sigh, and then Joel is met with silence.
It's unusual, but today's been particularly hard on all of them, between issues during soundcheck and the crew at the venue not being particularly accommodating, so Joel lets his friend be. He's happy enough to have him nearby as they take a few hours to rest.
They've been rooming together since the very first day of their new tour, when a very drunk Niko had accidentally crashed in Joonas' bed in the room he usually shared with Aleksi, forcing the guitarist to switch keycards and take Niko's bed instead.
No one had been bothered to go back to their previous sleeping arrangements, despite changing cities every couple days. Niko had said that Aleksi's presence was more peaceful than Joel's, who tended to toss and turn for hours and hours on end.
But everyone had seen the hickeys on his neck when he'd shown up to breakfast almost an hour later than the time they had all agreed on, their youngest bandmate in tow. Santeri had choked on his coffee, prompting Miki to give him harsh slaps on the back while Tommi was pocketing a ten euro bill from Kiril.
And Joel likes having Joonas close. Things are not exactly as he wants them to be, but he's learnt to admire from afar, to touch when he can but to otherwise keep his hands to himself, or he'd run the risk of causing more damage than what he can handle and repair. No one knows, it's alright. Or it will be, one day when Joel moves on, finally stops following that forever thinning thread of hope. It's only a matter of time.
Joel is pulled out of his muddy thoughts by a gust of cold air on his back, uncomfortable on heated skin and blood as he feels the cover being lifted. Then there's a dip in the mattress, and the duvet falls back, now heavy on both him and Joonas.
A finger slowly traces Joel's spine, from the waistband of his boxers to the nape of his neck, and he turns around, barely able to make out the slope of Joonas' nose, the soft curls spilling onto the pillow, the bow of his mouth. Joonas flinches when Joel's hand traps his own, and there's already an apology etched on the tip of his tongue.
"Come here," the older man says, an arm snaking around his waist and pulling him closer so that they're chest to chest. "You're alright."
And it's good and safe and Joel is right there, their bodies fitting together in ways Joonas never allows himself to think about, and there's too much going on in his head. A single tear, the first of many, rolls down his cheek and drops onto the soft cotton of the pillowcase, a sob clawing its way out of his throat. Joel curls around him, long limbs holding Joonas' trembling form as much as grounding his restless mind.
Another cry wracks his body, and Joonas thinks this must be the end because everything hurts and he's hungry, so hungry for more touch he wants to crawl in Joel's ribcage and make himself at home in his heart. He's gotten used to the fact that it'll never be enough.
It takes a few minutes, endless in their silence, but Joonas' sadness eventually quiets down. Joel shivers when his friend's open mouth haphazardly catches onto his collarbone, the other's breath white hot and harsh in the curve of his neck. His chest and the pillow feel colder now, soaked with tears and the inherent unease radiating off Joonas, but hands roam the soft expanse of his back and it's still warm and real.
"Wanna talk about it?" Joel's voice echoes in the oppressing, almost deafening quiet.
His tone is raw, as if he'd been the one choking on his own feelings. Joonas doesn't let himself believe that thought.
"Just tired," the guitarist whispers, calloused hands curling between their bodies as if to protect himself. "I thought today would get better but it didn't. And I'm so fucking tired, you know? Sometimes I want to put my guitar down and leave."
Joel's throat tightens, and he's about to say something, ask, beg, even, but Joonas continues.
"But I could never do that. Because I love what I do, what we have. And there's you, too. I could never leave you behind."
Three words hang in the air, a sword above both their heads, and it might be so painful to say them they choose not to. But there's a new spark, somewhere in the stuffy hotel room, even though it's late and life isn't always kind.
"Thank you," Joel whispers. "Now you should sleep."
There's an unspoken promise there, something along the lines of we'll talk about it tomorrow, when things are better and the sun is up. Joonas has understood it, too, and he thinks it's relief blooming in his chest, so sudden it almost burns.
"Your thoughts are so loud," he hums, shifting so they're both more comfortable, pushing the blanket away and letting Joel flip the pillow. "I promise I'm not delirious."
Joel chuckles, dropping a kiss on his temple. "I know. But get some sleep, okay?"
A hand curls around his wrist, and a question around Joonas' tongue.
"Hold me, please?"
"Of course."
The sun isn't going to rise for a while. They have time.