rusakko

Summer evenings in Keuruu are long and their light is warm and gentle. It filters in through the tiny window of Lalli’s one-room apartment and gives his pale skin, still slightly sweaty, a golden glow.

Lalli’s eyes are almost closed, but the ghost of a smile crosses his lips as Emil traces a finger down his spine, and he lazily reaches out to bury his own fingers in Emil’s hair. The wiry muscles under Emil’s hand are soft and relaxed, the undercurrent of alert tension usually running through Lalli’s body gone for a fleeting moment.

It will return. These interludes of sleepy bliss never last long enough. Soon, Lalli will blink his eyes open, squirm out of Emil’s arms and reach for his clothes. He’ll be dressed and slinging his rifle onto his back before Emil has managed to get out of bed. There will probably be a kiss, but it will be brief, already a little distant, and Lalli will leave without a word. When they see each other again at breakfast the next morning, Emil with a strenuous day of cleansing ahead of him and Lalli with a long night of scouting behind him, there will only be time for a few mumbled words, a passing touch, and even then, Lalli will already be halfway in his dreamworld.

Soon, but not yet. Right now, Lalli is fully present in the here and now, and snuggles closer to mumble something into Emil’s ear. The words, though only half understood, are enough to make him blush. Judging by Lalli’s satisfied little grin, this was also their intention. Emil has discovered that Lalli likes to make him blush. Not that he minds. He can’t help but smile back as Lalli’s eyes drift closed again.

It’s in moments like this that Emil feels they are closer to each other than at any other time. Still, paradoxically, it’s also in these moments that he wishes more than anything that he could truly understand what is going on in Lalli’s head. Learning Finnish is slow going, and it’s as if every new word he memorizes, every new structure that he masters only makes it more evident how much more work he still has ahead of him.

In any case, Emil is beginning to suspect that language may be the smallest barrier between them – and that there are barriers that he perhaps will never overcome. Lalli isn’t quite like other people. It was easier to ignore during the winter, when his sparse communication and occasionally odd behaviour could at least partially be explained by cultural differences and lack of a shared language. Now, seeing him among his own people, Emil has had to face the truth: even in Keuruu, Lalli is the odd one out.

It’s not, in Emil’s eyes, necessarily a bad thing. However, it’s something he has gradually realised he will have to live with. By now, he’s familiar with every centimetre of Lalli’s body, but he sometimes feels that he’s no closer to understanding his mind than the day they first met.

It doesn’t mean he’s going to stop trying. Mikkel once told him that trying isn’t always a beneficial course of action, but this is a piece of advice that Emil has not yet learned to follow. He isn’t sure he wants to, either. He doesn’t know much about Lalli’s childhood – the past is something even Tuuri, the only Hotakainen Emil can have actual conversations with, is reluctant to delve into – but he has occasionally wondered whether Lalli might not have benefited from those around him trying more rather than less.

Still, as they lie tangled together, bared in more ways than one, Emil can almost convince himself that what they have now might be enough. That even if he can only have this small piece of Lalli, it’s better than having nothing at all. That the wordless connection they share could be a solid enough foundation for building a life together. That he could be content even if overcoming the language barrier brought them no closer to having a real conversation, to communicating by other means than merely looks and touches.

Almost. But not quite. That is why, as Lalli’s hand in his hair goes limp with sleep, Emil remains awake, trying to banish the doubts from his mind, struggling to silence the voices speaking of future pain and regret, of let-downs and a slow abandoning of hope. Those voices suggesting that it’s never going to work out, and that it would be kinder to both of them to end it now, when the wounds might not be too deep to heal.

“Emil.” Lalli’s voice is faint and drowsy.

“Yes?”

There’s no reply, only a contented sigh and an indistinct mumble as Lalli slips deeper into sleep.

However, the meaningless exchange still helps Emil push his worries aside for now. It shows, at least, that Lalli finds his presence comforting, that he wants Emil close even in his sleep. That maybe, although he doesn’t express it in words, Lalli really cares about more than just the physical relationship that they have.

It may not always be enough, but right at this moment, with Lalli’s soft breathing tickling his neck, Emil has everything that he needs. It’s all too easy to let himself forget that he might ever want more.