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Bojan was sitting on the couch, looking at his phone. He was pretending to act nonchalant, but his bouncing leg gave him away. After a while he huffed to himself, wondering why he was pretending to act normal for no one. Jure wasn’t home; he had no reason to pretend.
Suddenly, Bojan’s phone buzzed–it was Jere.
here 😝
Bojan read the message and made a beeline toward the door. He threw it open, revealing Jere, in all his cutesy glory. He was wearing a pink ski jacket that practically drowned him. Bojan had half a mind to squish him to death, but instead he simply stepped aside allowing him to come in. Before Jere could take anything off, though, Bojan proposed an activity for the afternoon.
“I know you just came in, but do you want to take a walk?” he asked. He sort of wanted to take Jere to the park down the road and show him the beauty of Slovenian winters. Jere considered this for a moment before typing a new message on his phone.
sure! ❄️❄️but if you take too long i go back outside 🚶
Bojan read this and assured Jere that he would take no time at all. He then tried as fast as possible to throw on a hoodie, a down coat, a scarf, a beanie, and then finally his boots.
“Fast enough for you?” Bojan asked sarcastically, adjusting his coat. Jere turned his phone around to show a stopwatch stopped at 3 minutes, 4 seconds, and 46 milliseconds. “You actually timed me?” incredulous this time, Bojan asked. Jere nodded, doing a poor job at holding in his laughter. It was a quiet thing, but Bojan could see the way his shoulders shook with mirth. He just reached out to ruffle Jere’s hair in lieu of a verbal response.
The two of them set out into the winter wonderland that was Bojan’s neighborhood. Once they got out past the residential area, things began to look prettier. There were more trees hosting string lights and chunks of snow on their branches, and icicles catching the light.
“You don’t want to stand under them for too long though,” Bojan warned needlessly. “They might fall and stab you.” Bojan nodded seriously, and Jere did too, until he realized that Bojan was being completely serious. He quickly penned a message on his phone.
you remember im from finland 🇫🇮🇫🇮 i know everything about snow and ice ❄️❄️
Bojan scoffed at this.
“Ok then, Jere ‘expert about snow and ice’ Pöyhönen, tell me a fun fact about snow,” he challenged. Jere gave him a look, as if to say “alright then, I will!” and diligently began typing. He then handed his phone to Bojan to read.
being from finland 🇫🇮 mean you get to know lot of different type of snow ❄️ example: this type of snow is perfect for snowball
When Bojan finished reading the message he looked up and lowered Jere’s phone. Rookie mistake.
Jere instantly decked him with a snowball the instant his phone was a safe distance from Bojan’s face. For a moment, all Bojan could do was stare at him. The mischievous smile and shaking shoulders were back. He quickly pocketed Jere’s phone and reached down to get his own handful of snow. Jere was too caught up in his own victory to notice, so when Bojan hit him square in the chest, he looked rather surprised.
Bojan felt satisfied with himself then, but the feeling quickly dissipated as Jere got this bordering-on-evil glint in his eye. Bojan turned to run, and as he did he heard Jere yell from behind him. Another snowball hit him right in the back of the head, seeping between his beanie and his scarf.
“Why you little–” Bojan muttered to himself, turning to craft another snowball. They went at this for far longer than either of them would have guessed, neither wanting to be the one to give in and admit defeat. It was only when Bojan complained that his fingers were starting to hurt with cold that they stopped.
Bojan watched as Jere, while collecting himself, patted down all his pockets. The more pockets he had to pat, the quicker the smile slipped off his face.
“Whatcha looking for?” Bojan asked, concern slipping into his voice. Jere mimed the act of typing on his phone, and Bojan remembered pocketing it earlier. Lo and behold, it was still there. Crisis averted. He handed it back to Jere and he immediately began typing.
“Don’t rub it in, ok? It’s not my fault you’re Finnish, and therefore hyper-acclimated to the cold,” Bojan pleaded, trying not to be a sore loser. This comment stopped Jere for a moment, and he seemed to amend his statement, finally revealing the following:
I’m not trying to rub it in 🙁 i want to ask if you forget gloves? 🧤your hands look so cold 🥶
Bojan considered this. It was now his turn to pat all his pockets down. No gloves. It had seemingly slipped his mind as he was speeding to get all of his winter gear on before they left the house.
“I seem to have forgotten them…” he trailed off, an idea forming. “Maybe you could warm them up for me?” He gave Jere a shy smile, extending his hand as an invitation. Jere took him up on the offer immediately, removing one of his own gloves, taking Bojan’s hand, and covering both of their hands with the one glove. Bojan made a show of putting his other hand in his pocket so as to not worry his lover, and they turned back toward Bojan’s apartment.
-
It had either been later than they thought when the two of them had set out, or they had spent more time than they thought outside, because by the time they made it back to Bojan’s apartment, the sun was beginning to set. The two men hurried inside, quick to strip all of their heavy winter gear. When they had a moment to rest, Bojan spotted his mittens on the entryway table.
“Found them,” he said in a resigned voice, getting Jere’s attention. When Jere saw them, he typed a quick message on his phone.
I liked holding your hand 🥰🥰maybe you forget your gloves more often?
Bojan snorted at this.
“Only when you’re around, babe. I can’t afford to lose my fingers. How else am I supposed to write songs?” Jere grabbed Bojan’s hand again, and they looked into each other’s eyes for a moment before Bojan closed the gap between them.
They stayed together that way for a while, periodically parting to breathe, when Bojan’s phone buzzed. He tried to check it surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye, but when he saw the notification he knew it couldn’t be ignored.
“Shit,” he muttered. Jere whined as Bojan pulled away from him, and it hurt him to hear the noise. “I’m sorry, baby, but it’s the first night of Hanukkah. I don’t want to miss it.” He registered Jere typing out of the corner of his eye as he gathered supplies from the kitchen and moved them into the living area. When he got a moment, he checked Jere’s phone.
what’s that? 🤔 can i help?
Bojan had to stop himself from saying “I’m sure you’ve heard of it before” as he remembered that time he looked up how many Jews live in Finland (less than 1500).
“Hanukkah, or Chanukkah if you’re being correct about it, is the token Jewish winter holiday,” Bojan began to explain, pronouncing the name both in the anglicized way and in the Hebrew way. “It’s not the most important Jewish holiday, but most people who don’t know much about Jews act like it is since it falls around Christmas.”
Bojan moved his chanukkiah to the windowsill, and readied his lighter to burn the candles at the bottom end to help them stick down better.
“This,” he said, indicating the chanukkiah “is a chanukkiah. Most people call it a menorah, but technically a menorah only has seven spaces for candles while a chanukkiah has nine.” Bojan began to stick the candles in. “On Hanukkah, the Jewish people commemorate the victory over the Greek invaders in the holy land by lighting eight candles for eight nights, starting from one and increasing every night.” He winced as some melted wax fell on his hand, and watched as Jere’s fingers came to rub over the spot in the blink of an eye. “That’s the meat of it. There’s lots of other traditions and nitty-gritty laws and stuff that I could tell you, but I’m sure you’d be asleep before I even get halfway through.” Jere began to type a message.
I want to know 🧑🏫🧑🏫
Bojan gave him a warm smile, pulling him in for a hug.
“I’ll tell you all about it,” he assured Jere. “But first, let’s actually get this party started.” And with that, Bojan lit the shamash, the candle designated to light all of the other candles. He began to sing the blessings: one thanking God for the the commandment to light the Hanukkah lights, one thanking God for the miracles performed in ancient times allowing the holiday to be celebrated at all, and a final blessing specific to the first night, thanking God for allowing them to reach this time. Bojan then launched into a short song about the importance of the candles, a short song about the victory over the invader, and a short psalm thanking God for the victory once again. When he was done, Bojan turned to Jere who had a message for Bojan to read.
what does all of that mean?
Bojan was obliged to explain as he fetched some sweet treats from the kitchen. When he had acquired everything, he motioned for Jere to sit with him at the table.
“These are called sufganiyot,” he explained, pointing at some filled donuts he brought out. “I got these from the donut shop not too far from here, so technically they’re just filled donuts, but they’re pretty much the same. The point is that they’re traditionally fried in oil to commemorate the oil that burned for eight days, blah, blah, blah, remember that we suffered.” At this last proclamation, Jere snorted, and Bojan laughed along with him.
“What matters is that they’re sweet, and they taste good. I got some jelly ones and some custard ones. I wasn’t sure which you prefer,” Bojan said, offering Jere the first pick. He didn’t type anything, but Bojan could see based on his expression that he looked honored to be allowed first pick. He chose a custard donut, and Bojan chose a jelly one. Bojan explained this next bit through bites of donut.
“Ok, now this thing here is called a dreidel. It’s like a top–a spinning toy, I’ll just show you–except it has these letters on the side that you can play a game with. They stand for 4 words: neis, gadol, hayah, sham, which means ‘a great miracle happened there.’ Or, I guess, if you’re in the holy land it would be ‘a great miracle happened here and then this one would be replaced with a different letter that stands for ‘poh’.”
Jere sat there very patiently as Bojan word-vomited to him about the function and historical significance of the dreidel. While he wasn’t looking, Jere began to slowly unwrap some chocolate coins that were sitting in a pile next to the donuts.
“Hey! Those gelts are for playing!” Bojan chided when he noticed Jere’s surreptitious actions. When Jere gave him puppy eyes, he conceded and gave Jere a few just to eat. “But really, that’s our betting stock,” Bojan clarified. He began to explain the rules of the game.
“My house rule is that everyone puts one coin in at the beginning of the round, just so there’s always a pot,” Bojan said, finally beginning the game. He spun the dreidel with the expertise of someone who had been doing it for a long time. It spun and spun, its circles getting wider and wider until it finally landed.
“Gimmel!” Bojan exclaimed. He explained that this meant he got to take the whole pot. “Don’t worry, though,” he consoled Jere. “You still have a chance to catch up. He placed a gelt in the center of the table and then handed the dreidel for Jere to spin. Jere was less skilled at it, but got the hang of spinning the little top quickly. Bojan peered over the top of the toy as it came to rest.
“Nun,” he announced. “I’m sorry, that means you get nothing. Do you want to try again?” Jere typed out a quick message.
that not fair, is it?
“It’s just us, babe. I don’t care about fair,” Bojan reassured him. Jere considered this, and then took Bojan up on the offer to spin again. It came up as a gimmel again.
“Nice! Here, now you get to take this,” Bojan cheered, sliding the single gelt in the pot over to Jere. The two of them played for a little while longer, both of them having winning and losing streaks. Eventually, when they both had an equal amount, Bojan suggested they call it quits.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually won a game of dreidel,” he admits. “We’ve always decided to call it.” Jere gets this competitive glint in his eye, but Bojan shuts that down before it even starts. “You couldn’t survive that long with chocolate as your bargaining chips–you’d eat it all!” Jere opened and closed his mouth a few times, seemingly wanting to protest but knowing that Bojan was right.
-
The two of them spend the rest of the evening munching on the chocolate coins and chatting, eventually moving to the couch and cuddling once all the coins were gone.
“Jure’ll be back soon,” Bojan mused quietly. Jere made a noise and pulled out his phone.
but he’s not here yet 😈😈
He punctuated this message by pulling Bojan in for another kiss. He could still taste the chocolate in Jere’s mouth as his tongue slipped past his lips. They stayed like that for a while until, as if Bojan had spoken him into existence, Jure arrived home. The two of them separated quickly at the sound of jangling keys. (Well, it was more that Bojan pulled away and Jere was confused, Bojan furtively explaining that Jure was in the process of unlocking the door.)
“Oh, Jere, hey,” Jure greeted. Jere waved at him from the couch. There was no animosity, but Jure seemed to be able to tell that they were busy, and quickly shucked his winter gear to leave them in peace.
The candles were beginning to burn very low as Jere and Bojan cuddled together. Bojan had turned around to make sure that they were going to go out properly and not burn the entire apartment complex down. He hadn’t really noticed Jere furiously typing and scrolling on his phone until he looked back down for a moment.
חג חנוכה שמח 🕎
Bojan felt speechless. Is that what he had been typing about?
“Jere I–” Bojan started to say, before enveloping Jere in the tightest hug ever. “Thank you,” he murmured. “ חג שמח.”