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Freppa had dropped his bandmates off again after a gig. He'd stayed outside Määnin's house and watched as his friends wobbled towards the front door. He'd only driven away once the door had closed behind them. He believed Tommy and Määnin would be able to take care of themselves. Of each other. Or, at least he tried to believe.
They'd already been riding out the last wave. Määnin and him. Freppa didn't drink. And now, as they sat on Määnin's worn out couch, close but not too close for their legs to touch, they drank some more.
Tommy had set his cap on the armrest of the couch, on top of his denim jacket, after first sitting down. For some time they'd done nothing except down beers together. They hadn't talked, not about the band, their future, which was an unknown thing to them both. They only seemed to live one day at a time, counting down the minutes from one gig to the next. Work hard, play even harder.
Almost two hours later he got up in an attempt to go to the bathroom. But he collapsed about halfway, hissing under his breath.
"I'm not sick, I'm just hungover,"
he mumbled even though Määnin hadn't accused him of anything. And when he despite his best efforts didn't stand back up right away, Määnin got up from the couch. He'd had much more to drink than Tommy had, but somehow was still able to carry himself much better. Tommy could sense his presence right next to him even when he wasn't looking. Could smell his familiar scent.
Then.. He took Tommy's wrist, causing the man to flinch in a way that wasn't normal. He tried to pull away from Määnin, but wasn't quite able to pull that off, either.
And as Määnin took off his sunglasses and pulled up Tommy's sleeve, he saw some bandages hastily wrapped around his friend's wrist, partially bloodied.
"Why?"
It was a simple question. One that didn't judge, only expressed some concern. Still, shame burned in Tommy's eyes. Määnin must think he's so lame. Weak. He only felt stupid. Shit like this was what some angsty teenage girls would do. But a guy in his 30s? Definitely not. Tommy had never done anything like that before in his life. And he certainly had never intended for anyone to find out. Least of all Määnin.
He was pulled up from the floor and escorted the short distance back to the couch.
"I wanted to feel something.. To learn how much it hurts."
His voice sounded hollow. He'd only told half a truth. He could never say he'd done it because Määnin had been hanging out with other people after their gigs. Not just hanging out with them, either. Following them home. Tommy hadn't known how else to handle it. Saying all of that would have been downright pathetic. As if he wasn't already making himself seem bad enough in the eyes of the man he thought so highly of.
Määnin then turned around and headed into the bathroom. Tommy heard him rummage through the cabinets in his search for something. Not too long after he walked back out with some bandages. He didn't ask for permission as he took Tommy's hand again. And as his fingers touched Tommy's skin, he felt a weak shockwave travelling through his body. He could only look in silence as Määnin's fingers removed the old bandages, revealing the cuts in his wrist. One of them was longer, deeper than the others. Määnin didn't touch it, didn't say anything about it, either. But Tommy could see how his eyes were resting on it. Hesitant on looking into Määnin's eyes, Tommy kept his eyes focused only on his fingers, the almost gentle way they held onto his arm and bandaged his wrist up again, hiding away the signs of his flaws. The cracks beneath the surface that no one else would ever get to see.
The toughest guy in Vörå was fussing over him like this. Well, not fussing, he was as cool as a cucumber. But in Tommy's mind it still was almost unheard of. But now that he had gotten started, he found it hard to keep everything inside.
"I pressed a little too hard.. And then I got scared when I couldn't get the bleeding to stop.. I couldn't get myself to call anyone, either, and—"
he begun to admit when he suddenly was pulled into a hug. His breath hitched, taking the rest of his sentence with it. He swallowed, hard, as his head came to rest on Määnin's shoulder. Little by little, Tommy's arms also found their way around Määnin.
They stayed like that for some time, until..
"I.. I should go home."
Tommy pulled away, feeling things he wasn't sure he was allowed to feel. His head was buzzing.
"No. Stay,"
he was then told. In a way it almost sounded like a request.
"What?"
he asked, his arm hovering halfway to where he'd placed his jacket and cap.
"Stay,"
Määnin repeated.
"It's not like you haven't spent nights here before. You can sleep on the couch. Or, if you're feeling brave.."
He left the rest of his sentence hang in the air. Tommy's face changed color remarkably quickly. And despite of what his mind might have screamed at him, he mumbled:
"I'll take the couch.."
Quite a few hours passed them by. And late at night, Tommy had fallen asleep on the couch, using his folded jacket as a pillow. Määnin then walked out of the bedroom, quietly approaching the couch. He placed a blanket over Tommy's sleeping form and watched as his friend curled his fingers around the soft fleece, holding onto it like a lifeline.