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Hannu set his toothbrush on the edge of the sink and rubbed his eyes. It was getting late, and he was all-too-aware that morning would come sooner than he wanted. He clicked the light off and turned toward the bedroom. It would be nice to just collapse on the bed and pass out until the alarm forced him back to the waking world. Maybe he should tell Ville he was too tired, tonight.
But as soon as he entered the bedroom, he knew he wouldn’t say any such thing. Ville sat on the bed with his legs tucked up, hugging his knees and smiling down at the book in his hands. In his baggy pajamas, with damp curls of hair sticking out every which-way from his shower, he looked like a little kid on Christmas morning. The hope in his eyes when he looked up at Hannu only added to the impression.
“Hannu! Are you ready? Can we read now?” He scooted closer to the wall to make room for Hannu to sit beside him.
Hannu sighed. “Yeah, I guess so.” He joined Ville on the bed and took the book from him. It was a slim volume, with a bright cover and drawings on many of the pages. Hannu hadn’t read it since he was a kid, and he probably wouldn’t be reading it now except that Ville had never read it. And he’d made the mistake of letting Paju find out.
“But they’re classics! How did you never read them, Ville? You have to! I’ll loan you my copies, since I’m sure Hannu doesn’t have them.” True to her word, she’d arrived with a stack of books and another admonition for Ville to read them and tell her what he thought. By the time she left, Ville’s head hung low and his tail was between his legs—or would have been, if he’d still had a tail. It always amazed Hannu that no one ever noticed how much Ville sometimes still acted like a dog.
“But how am I supposed to read these?” Ville wailed. “I’m learning, but there are so many words!” He opened a book and looked up at Hannu with sad puppy eyes. “It looks like a really good book, too. I love the pictures, but the words...I wish I could read better.” That was one of the things they were working on. Ville had mostly learned his alphabet, and could piece together simple words like c-a-t or f-o-o-d, but anything more complicated was beyond him. Hannu wasn’t the most patient teacher in the world, but they couldn’t exactly get someone else to help. Ville would learn...eventually. But Paju was a more immediate problem.
That was how they’d started this evening ritual. No matter how tired Hannu was—and it seemed like he was always tired, compared to Ville—he couldn’t refuse when Ville brought the book out and asked him to read.
“All right. Where were we?” Hannu asked.
Ville leaned his head on Hannu’s shoulder. The smell of soap and mint toothpaste wafted up to Hannu’s nose, with just a hint of the wet dog smell that Ville couldn’t seem to shake. Ville watched Hannu turn pages, then jabbed a finger onto one of the illustrations. “There! They were talking about the comet again.”
Hannu raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you can’t read this yourself? You seem to have a pretty good idea of what’s going on.”
Puppy eyes again. “I just remembered the picture. And even if I do learn to read it myself...you won’t stop, will you? I like it when you read to me!”
“Okay, okay.” He should probably explain to Ville that it wasn’t normal for grown men to ask for bedtime stories, but the truth was, he didn’t mind all that much. There was something to be said for taking a quiet moment together before sleep, a few minutes where they could immerse themselves in the story and just be. It was nice, not having to worry about what they were—or more accurately, what Ville used to be—and what the two of them were to each other. There were no nosy friends here, no one to ask prying questions that Hannu couldn’t answer. Just Ville, asking for a story, and Hannu grumbling but secretly glad to be asked. And he would never admit it to anyone, but he actually sort of liked the way Ville forgot about the “no snuggling” rule when he was caught up in the story.
Hannu found his place and started to read.
“...when we were in the valley you only wanted to talk about how wonderful other places were.’
‘That was different,’ said Moomintroll.
‘But it’s true,’ said Snuffkin. ‘We’re all like that. You must go on a long journey before you can really find out how wonderful home is.’”
Hannu stifled a yawn and closed the book. He could barely keep his eyes open, and Ville was drowsing with his head on Hannu’s chest. Even so, he protested when Hannu reached over to turn off the light.
“But I wanna know what...happens...next. Can’t we read...a little more?”
“Ville, you’re half asleep. You won’t remember what happens if I read it now,” Hannu said.
“Yes I will!” Ville wrapped his arm across Hannu’s chest and squeezed, as though that might make the story keep coming. He buried his face in Hannu’s shirt. “I’ll remember. Because you’re reading it, and you...make the words sound...so nice…”
Hannu exhaled, let his chin rest on Ville’s head for a moment. He should say no. He should turn out the light, make Ville go back to his own bed, and leave the story for another night. If it was anyone else, he would.
But this wasn’t anyone else. This was Ville.
“All right,” Hannu said, shifting so he could still see the book with Ville lying on him, “just this once. I’ll read one more chapter.”