Chapter Text
Jere sat in his car in front of Prisma enjoying a chocolate bar he had just bought. Chocolate was a luxury product these days, but sometimes he splurged on a small bar when he was feeling stressed. They were lighter and lighter on the chocolate with more caramel and nuts.
The radio channel finished playing a catchy 30s song and after some ads, the host announced:
“Next up on Radio Juice, a blast from the past from two decades ago. More specifically Eurovision 2023!”
Would they be playing his own song?
“This song was a bit of a runaway hit in Finland–”
Okay, not Cha Cha Cha, it wouldn’t be characterized as a minor hit.
“–despite its unusual language. This band even toured Finland several times.”
Jere almost choked on the pieces of nuts in the chocolate. Please don’t be, but at that point, it was clear it couldn’t be anything else. He could have just turned off the radio or switched channels, but it felt like a punishment he deserved.
“Wasn’t the singer friends with Käärijä?” the other host added cheerfully.
“Yes! What a cute friendship that was. Now, the only song in the Slovenian language to ever chart in Finland, Joker Out with Carpe Diem!”
Even though Jere had heard the song numerous times, some of them even sung on the stage right next to him, he was always jolted by the beginning, with the way Bojan’s vocals kicked in immediately.
Bojan.
Eurovision was a distant memory now, but Bojan had been the best part of it. Bojan who not only had a stunning voice, to which the hit song didn’t do full justice, and was ridiculously talented, but also kind, gentle, supportive, affectionate, thoughtful, vibrant, funny, driven, strong, amazing and the most attractive guy Jere had seen in his life.
Bojan who lit up the room and looked at Jere with such adoration that no one else had ever done before or since. When he sang Carpe Diem on Jere’s gig at Tavastia, he was beaming.
Bojan who told an interviewer with such pride and joy their friendship would last for 30, 40 years into the future. And if it was up to Bojan, it would have. Or if it was up to Bojan, they could have had something else, too.
Bojan who was so, so loved, yet would have chosen Jere.
Jere had plenty of chances, but he never shot his shot. It was too scary. The time wasn’t right. They were too busy, especially for two people living in different countries. Careers, yadda yadda.
The list of excuses had seemed long and convincing then yet came off ridiculous now. The busy years were long over for Jere and he assumed for Bojan, as well. If things had worked out or them, they would have had plenty of time to enjoy each other’s company.
Had Jere been with Bojan, he wouldn’t have Iiris and Minttu and there was no way he was going to wish them away. But if Jere had made the right choices in life, shouldn’t he be happy now?
Bojan was no doubt doing fine without him. He was a positive, outgoing person. He probably had a thriving family with no shortage of friends. Joker Out didn’t seem to have conquered the world, but Bojan certainly an interesting career whatever he was doing. Jere really wanted him to be happy, whatever he was doing in his life.
Except he also hated the idea of Bojan being in a monogamous relationship. Jere was well aware of how ridiculous he was being, hoping that after years of not being in touch, he could just march into Bojan’s life and have any chance with him. That wasn’t how it worked.
The radio had switched gears now, blasting out a whiny ballad with female vocals. Jere started the car, glad that he didn’t have to actually drive. Even if home was empty, he had to go there. He would put on some other Joker Out songs there and maybe he would feel slightly less lonely. More likely it would have the opposite effect.
Bojan was the kindest person Jere had ever known and very forgiving. Jere hoped that no matter the circumstances, at least there was a possibility of rekindling their friendship, of spending time together. That even if they had both changed, Bojan would still give the best hugs in the world.
***
It had taken a couple of calls and emails to get Bojan’s address and to check that he likely wasn’t going to be traveling abroad or anything. Jere’s bag was packed, the kids were back at their mother’s after staying over for a couple of days. He had told them, they were excited for him.
Was this whole idea just completely absurd? To go now, when he should have gone 20 years ago, when Bojan and his whole band were waiting for him. They might not have anything in common anymore. No one was waiting now.
But Jere had to do it. If the whole thing went bust, he’d go lick his wounds somewhere nice in Slovenia, by a mountain or a lake. It was probably already spring there, it should be a nice holiday in any case.
Flying was much nicer nowadays when people didn’t care who Jere was. Some probably still recognized him, but fans rarely bothered him in the public anymore.
No one would pay attention to Käärijä flying to Ljubljana, which was actually a bit sad. It would have been such a big thing back then. Something he had promised and Jere always kept his promises.
It was indeed spring in Ljubljana even if Vantaa was still grappling with winter. Jere marveled at the contrast between the still snowy mountaintops and the pink blooming trees that weren’t cherry trees.
Bojan lived in an apartment complex not too far from the city center. The Slovene had always wanted his own house, but apparently that didn’t pan out. Still, the area and the building seemed nice enough.
“B. Cvjeticanin” read the name tag on the door, which sounded remarkably single. Jere’s heart was thumping wildly. For a moment he had to just stop there and breathe, then he rang the doorbell.
Nothing, no sounds of steps coming from the inside. Jere had been told Bojan should be home at this time, but he could have been running errands, visiting a friend or whatever. With Jere’s luck, he was probably out on a date right now.
Jere sat down to wait, but there was no sign of Bojan. Luckily he had his phone number, so he called, even if it would ruin his surprise.
“Hi, it’s me, Jere. I wonder if you are coming home soon as I’m at your doorstep.”
Silence.
“Are you kidding me?” Bojan asked.
“No. I’m in Ljubljana and this apartment has your name on the door, so I’m pretty sure I’m in the right place.”
Another silence.
“I’ll be home in ten minutes.”
And a little over ten minutes later, Bojan showed up, wearing a beige blazer like a grown-ass man in his mid forties, carrying two large bags full of groceries.
“Twenty years on and you’re still a fucking idiot”, he said affectionately. He let go of the bags to give Jere a peck on the cheek and then hug him.
The kiss threw Jere off for a moment. It seemed like a lot when they hadn’t met in years and Bojan had only ever kissed him once. But then he realized it was actually the opposite of the closeness and his heart sank: it wasn’t how Bojan would greet him but how he would greet a random friend. Well, what did Jere expect?
At least the hug was pretty long, not your standard one.
“Twenty years on and you look even more gorgeous”, Jere said. Bojan rolled his eyes and opened the door with his fingerprint. Jere wasn’t surprised Bojan had gone fully gray already, including his beard. It suited him and his hair was still thick and luscious. The Slovene’s ass still looked impressive, too.
“I promised you I would come to Slovenia, didn’t I”, Jere said.
“Yeah, I just didn’t think it would take you 20 years to deliver.”
Bojan’s voice sounded weary.
He wasn’t wearing any rings and the apartment looked as single as the name tag. Living room, bedroom, kitchen, office, no sign of kids even visiting.
“You don’t have a husband, wife, kids or anything?” Jere blurted out as Bojan was putting away the groceries.
“Oh, I’ve had two wives, but clearly that didn’t work out so well. No kids.”
Bojan looked sad and Jere’s heart ached for him.
“Had a dog, too, but they don’t live forever and I haven’t got around to considering another one.”
“Two wives, no husbands?” Jere asked.
Bojan didn’t answer. It seemed like he was taking it as a rhetorical quip even though Jere was actually asking.
“I’m divorced too, once”, Jere said. “Last year. It’s okay. We had a pretty good run, I guess, and two kids.”
“I know.”
Jere realized they had still been talking when his younger was born.
“I’m really happy for you, that you have a family”, Bojan continued, though his tone didn’t match his words. “I’m a professor these days, I guess that’s something.”
He sounded slightly amused at the latter, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. He put the kettle on for some tea.
“Really?” Jere asked, surprised. “That’s cool.”
“Sociomusicology at the University of Ljubljana. A fancy big word, huh? I study the role of music in the Balkan society, like how it relates to the tribalism and unrest in the area. And teach some, too. I’m not sure academia is my place, to be honest, but it pays the bills and so on. Joker Out’s still going on, even though we’ve taken a couple of breaks, but it’s good to have some backup. Want food? I just did a grocery run, so I could whip up something.”
Jere smiled.
“If it’s not too much of a hassle.”
“Less hassle than traveling here from Finland, for sure”, Bojan said.
He started chopping spring onions.
“I prefer the green ones, so I don’t have cry my eyes out within ten minutes of you arriving”, he joked.
The apartment also had some green punctuating its browns: an armchair and the houseplants. Somehow it didn’t look too dark or dated even though it should have, maybe it was the large windows or Bojan bringing in light. Bojan was gray and pink and cream and his socks striped, an adorable detail.
There was framed art hanging on the walls and even some vases. Jere had snooped some cholesterol medications in the bathroom cabinet, but he supposed they were offset by the guitars he could see hanging in the office.
“Are you happy?” Jere asked, which didn’t seem like a question Bojan was expecting. The Slovene paused for a moment.
“It’s a very different life from what I envisioned, but I think I’m happy. I used to be so clingy when I was younger. Always partying or hanging out with someone and terrified of my own company. Nowadays I’m a bit of a hermit, but I don’t mind. I write my papers, make music, cook, do yoga. Sometimes we play a show or I go to someone else’ gig. It’s a pretty simple life, but it’s good.”
Something hit the pan with a sizzling sound. It smelled like meat.
“Yoga”, Jere repeated.
“Have to keep yourself healthy.”
Bojan set the food on the table and microwaved some leftover mashed potatoes to serve with the stew. It was tasty, nothing exquisite but good home cooking. Jere had never eaten anything made by Bojan before.
“How is Käärijä?”
“Still wrecking havoc in the Finnish society”, Jere said. “To the extent you can when you are 50 and have a bad back and arthritis and shit and no one wants to see you shirtless anymore.”
Bojan smiled.
“You don’t look a day older than 49.”
“Shut up, kiddo”, Jere said, but he loved that playfulness was creeping back into their interactions.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.”
It was becoming painfully obvious to Jere that he was still just as attracted to Bojan as in the past. Whether there was any mutuality to it was another thing. Bojan seemed to still like him, but that didn’t necessarily translate to liking him.
“Were you planning to stay at my place?” Bojan asked.
“That would be nice, but I can always go to a hotel.”
“No problem, my office also serves as a guestroom.”
Bojan must have sensed Jere felt awkward – how much more could he have really asked for? – as he added:
“It’s right next to my bedroom and I can leave the door open, so it’s almost like we are in the same room.”
It was amazing how even after all these years, Bojan could read Jere’s wishes and instantly knew how to make him feel better.
***
Bojan had some lessons to teach early in the day, but after that they went sightseeing in Ljubljana. Jere wasn’t really interested in statues or parliament buildings, so Bojan was focusing on places that he found meaningful.
Most of the earliest gig venues Joker Out had played were clubs and bars that no longer existed, but the Ljubljana Castle still stood there towering over the city, as it had for hundreds and hundreds of years.
“And that’s Arena Stožice which we sold out twice”, Bojan explained. “Next to it is Stadion Stožice where we also played a show, but I’m still bummed it wasn’t fully sold out, there were like 500 unclaimed tickets.”
“So very Bojan to play a stadium gig and complain that you only sold 95% of the tickets”, Jere teased.
Both of them mostly stuck to playing their own countries with occasional forays into the neighboring ones. Their fans were quite older now, as it tends to go. No one ever gets younger. Some had been there since Eurovision or even earlier, others had joined along the way. A second generation of fans was attending gigs with their parents.
Bojan was happy to hear that the Käärijä Crew still featured multiple people he knew. Jesse had been away for years tending to his family, but he had also recently returned.
Bojan tried to ask about Jere’s daughters, but the Finn could see that the topic was painful for him. He showed him a photo of the three of them and Bojan complimented it. Of course Jere loved to talk about his kids and could have babbled endlessly about them, but he let the other change the subject quickly after that.
They walked past the faculty of social sciences, Bojan’s workplace, which looked like a nice but unassuming university building. Jere still struggled to grasp that Bojan was an actual professor.
Bojan gushed about how beautiful he found the river Ljubljanica. Granted, its confines were more elegant than those of the Vantaa River, but Jere felt like its beauty couldn’t hold a candle to his companion.
There was a famous bridge boasting a row of dragon statues and some other, less interesting bridges. Jere constantly had the instinct to take Bojan’s hand. Another bridge was full of love locks which Bojan didn’t seem to want to say anything about.
There had immediately been a sense that Bojan’s happy, peaceful life was at least partially a façade. Jere hoped he was wrong, but something suggested to him that the façade may not have been as sturdy as it initially seemed.
Jere was so close to grabbing Bojan’s hand, so convinced it would have been fine.
Bojan had suggested Jere dress up and they dined at a slightly fancier Thai restaurant. It felt like a date, the kind you might expect when you’re dating a professor of …a field with such a long name that Jere had already forgotten it.
But then Jere, despite his vastly improved English, mispronounced the word “dandelion”. When Bojan pointed this out, Jere insisted it made no sense that it would sound like a big cat who’s into fashion. The Slovene completely lost it. He was wheezing with laughter, barely able to sit up, and Jere couldn’t help but giggle, as well.
While Jere had been sure of his continuing attraction for the man, that was the moment he fell in love all over again. If Bojan had right then, while red in the face and his eyes running, proposed to him, Jere would have said yes without any hesitation.
But instead Bojan smiled apologetically yet also slightly mischievously, and let Jere spoon some of his mango ice cream into his mouth. Bojan also insisted he would foot the bill as he did once in Liverpool, “son pays for the father who has no money”. Jere was hardly broke, but he couldn’t argue with that.
With its mountains and old buildings and elegant streetlights, Ljubljana admittedly much prettier than Liverpool. This was a city where you could imagine people falling in love, poring over yellowed manuscripts at the faculty of social sciences and growing old together.
***
At night, Jere was woken up by a muffled sound coming from the next room. He didn’t need to guess what it was. Without really thinking about it, Jere made his way over and sat on the bed, because that’s what you do.
He could feel Bojan’s rapid heartbeat when he placed his hand on the other’s shoulder.
“Can I help?” Jere asked.
“No.”
“Can I hold you?
After thinking about it for a moment, Bojan finally nodded. Jere lay down to spoon Bojan, but the Slovene turned so that they were facing, even if he wasn’t meeting Jere’s eyes. The room was dark, but not so dark they couldn’t see each other’s faces.
Neither of them were wearing a shirt, but they had hugged like that many times. It felt natural to wrap themselves into each oher, skin on skin.
“I haven’t cried in a year”, Bojan said. “And the last time was when someone actually died.”
“Maybe you should do it more often.”
Jere didn’t want to press as to what was the reason for the tears. If it was something Bojan felt like sharing, like a work or family issue, he would bring it up. And if it wasn’t anything he wanted to discuss, perhaps related to Jere, then any attempts at prodding would just irritate him.
“I’m supposed to be a grown man”, Bojan said.
“You don’t have to be a grown man with me, Bojan. Ever.”
The sharp breath Bojan let out sounded like a tiny chuckle. Jere would forever remember the Slovene comforting him after he lost Eurovision. Thinking about the loss now felt silly, when in retrospect it had been a blessing for him. But at the moment it felt like the end of the world for Jere and Bojan was there for him.
“You think I don’t cry when I’m stressed or when I worry about my kids?” Jere asked.
“Grownups cry about parenting and other grownup stuff. Not …this.”
For a moment Bojan seemed like he would actually say what was on his mind, but then he swallowed it down again. It wasn’t hard to guess, though.
Jere ran his hand through Bojan’s hair. The Slovene smelled so good. His scent had changed over the years as had the cosmetic products he used, but there was something unmistakably familiar about it. Jere wondered if he also still smelled comforting to the other.
“You’re a good dad”, Bojan said.
“You would be too. And you’re a good person.”
“Am I?”
“The best”, Jere reassured him and he could feel Bojan’s smile radiate in the room.
They had seen a street musician playing the flute and Bojan had rushed to give him money, because of course he did. Bojan probably carried cash just for this purpose.
Jere hoped Bojan knew how much love he had for him. Even if he managed not to think about it for long periods, the love had always been there, like an immutable fact of life.
He only realized how much tension Bojan was holding onto when the Slovene fell asleep and relaxed in his arms. Jere stayed awake for quite a while, listening to the soothing rhythm of Bojan’s inhales and exhales and feeling them against his body, cherishing every breath he was allowed to witness.
***
Bojan got up before Jere and spent the morning absorbed in work. His thick-rimmed reading glasses looked unreasonably sexy on him, he had really nailed the professor look.
Jere had some work himself and Bojan’s balcony offered a cozy spot for retreating with his laptop. In Finland the same temperature would have left him chilly, but the sun shone so much warmer here.
The balcony was big but very bare. Jere wondered if Bojan put plants in there in the summer. Maybe pink flowers, if pink was still Bojan’s favorite color.
Bojan didn’t even comment on the meatballs and a nice salad Jere made them for lunch.
“You said you are staying for a week”, Bojan said. “That seems like a pretty long time for visiting a friend you hadn’t seen in decades. Why are you here? I want the honest, real answer.”
Jere swallowed.
“With you time always flies, but you’re right that I’m also hoping for something else. That maybe you would give me a second chance. I know it’s not likely.”
“No”, Bojan said sharply.
“That’s okay, I get it.”
The silence was broken only by the metallic utensils clinking on the glass bowl as Bojan heaped more salad on his plate.
“I don’t like men anymore”, he said, sounding as if he was talking about being served an unpleasant dish.
“What, your trial period of gay ran out?”
Jere thought he could coax a giggle out of Bojan with that, but the Slovene didn’t seem amused. Bojan not laughing at Jere’s bad jokes – though this one he believed was actually quite funny – wasn’t a good sign.
“Sexual orientation is fluid”, Bojan said.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not what it means.”
“Fuck you.”
“Are you sure you aren’t just denying parts of yourself?” Jere asked gently.
Bojan scrunched his forehead and violently stabbed a tomato slice with his fork.
“That’s what everyone does, all the fucking time. No one lives their dream life. It only happens in the movies. Everyone settles. It’s a bullshit idea that you can get what you dreamt of. Even we didn’t. We were rockstars, but we couldn’t get what we really wanted, so we settled for what we could. That’s how it works in life.”
“It doesn’t have to work like that.”
Bojan scowled.
“What the fuck would you know about that? As if you weren’t doing it, when it mattered the most. And you were missing from my life for decades! You weren’t there when my grandma died or when my dad died or when I got divorced twice or when my first wife miscarried and many other things.”
Nor were you in my life when I struggled with similar challenges, Jere thought.
“We have both made mistakes and there’s no way to undo them, but we can do things better from now on”, Jere said. “Like I wasn’t here, but now I am. That’s what I can do.”
Bojan looked like that was the worst possible answer.
“Jere, I’d actually prefer it if you leave.”
It was a sudden blow, but Jere got up. He wasn’t going to argue if someone told him to leave, not even Bojan.
His hands were shaking and he tried packing his things slowly, in case Bojan started regretting his words, but apparently that didn’t happen.
“So, is this it? For our friendship?” Jere asked.
“Is it much of a friendship if we didn’t talk in almost two decades?”
Bojan almost spat out the words. Anger started rising inside Jere, too. He knew he wasn’t the asshole here, but if this was really the end of things, he wasn’t going to turn it into an ugly argument. He could swallow his bile for five minutes and act civil and kind.
“Okay”, Jere said. “I hope you have a happy life. Take care, Bojan.”
Bojan let himself be hugged, but didn’t respond to it.
“You too.”
Jere was just walking out, but at the door he turned, looked Bojan in the eye and said:
“Bojan, you know what? You’re amazing and talented and gorgeous and always a good friend to me. And I know you’ll want to argue the next point, but I won’t hear it and you know it’s true anyway. I love you.”
Before Bojan could say anything, Jere closed the door behind him. He stayed behind it for a few minutes, still hoping for Bojan to change his mind, but then he walked out.
Devastated and livid, Jere also felt content that if this really was it, he had said everything that mattered. That the last thing he told Bojan was the most important one.
The anger soon died down as Jere walked around the city. The sun was shining and the air smelled of spring and hope.
Oh well. This is was how it was realistic to expect things to go. Jere felt lucky that they had got to enjoy some lovely time together.
At least he should have some closure now. Jere didn’t have to wonder what Bojan was like or how things could have gone. As if that actually helped anything, knowing fully well what he wanted.
Yet something didn’t seem to add up. It made sense for Bojan to feel angry at Jere for having disappeared from his life. But their friendship had always been tangled up with feelings and attraction, so wasn’t there something strange about Bojan blowing up over Jere still harboring romantic aspirations? Or was he just imagining things.
If the sweetest person Jere knew behaved like an asshole, there must have been a good reason. The more he thought about it, the clearer it seemed to become.
He looked up some hotels, but decided that he would wait until 9 PM in case he heard from Bojan. If not, he would pick one of them.
Jere called both of his daughters, carefully shirking their questions about how his trip had gone. He had admitted he was going to meet an “old flame”. It had probably taken two tech-savvy teen girls seconds to figure out Bojan’s identity.
The girls would get some trinkets as souvenirs. They knew their dad was terrible at that kind of stuff, but it was a mandatory part of travel, and Jere hoped they might even like the Idrija lace earrings.
He snapped a photo of the love lock bridge. It looked pretty in the dusk, but also harsh and cold with all the metal. It felt ironic. In Finnish, a person being “locked” referred to feeling frozen or shutting down.
It was always been clear to Jere that his had been a marriage of convenience. Not that he wasn’t into women or didn’t love her, but it seemed like the easiest option, especially for having kids. He could hardly blame Bojan for taking the coward’s way out when he had done the same.
8:35 PM. If Bojan didn’t rescind his decision, Jere would sleep in a nice hotel bed and the following day he would travel to Lake Bohinj. It looked breathtaking in photos. Slovenia was a small country and distances were conveniently short.
People sometimes locked themselves into love, sometimes out of it. Some managed to do both simultaneously.