You and I.

When I walked out to the mailbox three weeks ago, I wasn't expecting a letter at all, much less from him. It had been years since I'd seen him, and months since we'd last talked.

Jonne,

I know it's been a while since we talked last, and believe me, I feel bad for it. It's been so hectic.

Listen, I've got a few weeks over Christmas free. Seeing as mother dearest won't let me through the front gate, and everyone else sees making small-talk with cranky relatives more interesting than me, I thought maybe you'd... yeah.

I've missed you, really. It's... kind of strange to say this, but I kind of miss that place, because I miss you so much, and that was the only place we ever really... were. Even though we hated it, I guess it's kind of... yeah.

Send me a reply as soon as you can, my address is on the back.

If you're up for it, I'll meet you in Turku on the thirteenth. Wait for me at the dock.

-Cat.

Sure enough, I was on the train from Tampere to Turku in the early hours of the thirteenth of December, reading the letter over and over again.

I was still reading over it as I waited at the dock for three hours before his ferry arrived.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured into my hair, holding onto me as if someone would tear us apart at any given moment.

“You have no idea.”

He smelled different to what he used to. He used to smell like unwashed jeans mixed with hospitals, and something else I could never place. Now... now he smelled like cigarettes and hair salons.

-

We curled up in two seats near the back of the carriage on the train back to Tampere. It was colder outside now than what it was an hour ago, back at the dock. The wind was icy, and we didn't need to stick our heads out the windows to know that.

“You alright?” I asked, watching him as he pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on my shoulder.

“'M fine. Just missed you.”

I let it drop.

“How's it been back home?”

“Alright... I haven't spoken to my mother in forever, though.”

“Why not?”

“She kinda found my journal from back when. Didn't go down too well... I ended up just walking out.”

“Where'd you go?”

He sighed. “It's complicated.”

There was silence between us for a while, as he huddled even closer to me and I stared out the window.

“'S cold,” he mumbled.

“'S Finland, love. Though I thought you'd be used to it, I mean Sweden-”

“I know, but it's colder because you're more north.”

I smiled. “Shut up.”

“You shut up,” he giggled back, starting to fiddle with the buttons on my coat.

“You're still such a kid, Cat...” I sighed.

“Mm. And you're still you... thankfully,” he mumbled, slipping his hands inside my coat and wrapping his arms around my waist. “Because if you weren't, I'd cry. A lot.”

“I'm not going to change.”

“Mm. Promise?”

“Just for you,” I said, playing with the ends of his jet black hair.

-

Tampere was colder, windier, and wetter than Turku by a thousand miles. Sleet was bucketing down outside, and despite the racket it was making against the metal roof of the train, Cat still slept soundly on my shoulder.

Just like he always used to.

Way back when we first met, we were each other's other half. We were like yin and yang, dark and light, angel and devil... but with more in common than just being each other's balance. We shared the same problems, the same thoughts, the same secrets.

Way back then, we were all each other had.

As the train pulled into the station at Tampere, he stirred on my shoulder, nuzzling his face in against my neck.

“Don't wanna get up yet,” he mumbled, grabbing onto my shirt. Despite his little whines, he stood from his seat with me, picking up the leather bag from beneath his seat and slinging it over one shoulder.

“Don't forget yours,” he said. I smiled.

We filed off the train, Cat immediately latching himself onto my side. He wasn't familiar with Tampere, and he never liked the idea of crowds and getting lost.

-

As soon as we set foot inside my apartment, Cat threw his bags on the floor and headed for the thermostat. Since we'd hopped off the train at the Tampere station – which was well over an hour and a half ago, because we'd grabbed lunch while we were there – he'd been clinging to my side and whining about how cold it was. I rolled my eyes and reminded him we were in Finland, and that it was winter.

“I'm gonna get sick. You just watch,” he said, burying himself under a spare blanket I'd found for him. He was curled up on the couch with the electric heater close-by, huddled under the blanket with a cup of coffee, watching cartoons made for six-year-olds.

“Oh, shush,” I muttered, wandering into the kitchen to make myself some hot chocolate.

“It's co-old!” he whined, poking his head up over the top of the couch to shoot me the puppy-eyes.

I rolled my eyes. “Love, I'm in a hoodie and scarf, and I'm fine. You're just a wuss.”

“Am not!”

“You so are.”

He pulled the blanket up over his head and curled back into the couch as I walked back into the room.

“You're a bitch,” he mumbled from under the fuzzy silver thing.

I set my hot chocolate down on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch beside him. He shuffled away, averting his eyes to the TV.

“Oh, come on. We're not kids anymore, Cat.”

“Says who?”

“Says anybody.”

“What if I don't want to grow up? What if I never did? What if-”

“Shut up,” I muttered, cutting him off. I pulled the blanket from his legs, earning a squeak of protest, and shuffled up beside him, wrapping the warmth around us.

He seemed to forgive me as he rested his head against my shoulder.

“I missed you.” He spoke softly. Softly. He never, ever spoke softly. He hadn't whispered for years.

“I know,” I replied.

“No, you don't,” he said. “I missed you so much it hurt.”

“I know.”

“Jonne, you have no idea. I'd get up and I'd-”

“Drag yourself out to the kitchen, pissed off that I wasn't there?”

“Yeah, and-”

“Fall asleep wrapped in blankets, clutching onto your old journal because it made you feel closer to me, almost like I was there?”

“And-”

“You missed me so much that you wanted to relapse just so you'd be able to come back, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it because at the same time it was like betraying me?”

He sighed. “Well, maybe you do know.”

“I know you, that's what I know,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, a little too well...” he muttered.

“Mm. That's only because I always paid too much attention to you. I remember, I used to keep such a close eye on you after you had a relapse, or after they sedated you. And I used to sit in your room and just stare at you to make sure you didn't drop dead or wake up and leave me there.”

“We were close,” he mumbled, his hands now toying with the end of my white scarf.

“We still are, aren't we?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Just... not like we used to be. The last time we were like this was what, three years ago?”

“Three and a half,” I corrected.

“Exactly... and yet, you still absolutely amaze me, Jonne Aaron.”

“Why's that?”

“Because, darling... you were the one person who knew me. You are the one person who knows me. You never gave up on me, even when it got to the point where I was ready to just tear it all open from the inside. When the doctors stopped caring, you still did. You were the only person there when I needed someone most, and... yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I smiled, looking down at him to be met with his eyes. His eyes. His eyes were beautiful. Almost just like mine, the blue. And they... they just roped me in and didn't let go. Just like in the beginning.

I pressed my lips to his for the first time in three and a half years, and it was just like... it was like the first time all over again. The little butterflies, the spark that might not have been there, the small worry that he might not kiss back.

“Hey, Jonne?”

“What?”

“You're warm, don't move.”