Wings & Hearts

God Paris was beautiful. I had suffered through yet another show (honestly, did the boys not have anything else to play for me) before I was finally let loose on the city of lights. Well, not exactly let loose; not with Jyrki and Jussi tugging my hands like children, pulling me this way and that to see this sight and that bar, that weird-looking monkey and that atypical French man. I wasn’t quite certain how much I could take of it.

God Paris was hot. I rolled the bottoms of my khaki shorts up one more notch, and pulled the hem of the pink polo out to allow air flow. How the two men with me were holding up in their outfits of nearly all black and leather I would never know - must be some sort of magical mind trick. I’d never know. With a bottle of Evian (the only water I could find; I looked quite precocious with it) in one hand and a clove cigarette (the only kind to smoke while out on the town - Jussi was disgusted) in the other, the three of us made our way through the Latin Quarter. The palm of Jyrki’s hand was cool on the flat of my back, and Jussi hopped on ahead, with the tote bag I had brought (weighed down with a book Jyrki had found in a quaint store and a striped Lacoste polo I had snagged for a Euro and a half) under his arm.

Sometimes I wondered if he was mentally challenged.

“No, I don’t really want to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower,” I said to Jyrki as he attempted to pull me into another quaint used bookstore. As cute as it was, I had grown tired of following him in and milling about for thirty minutes at a time; there was a little more to Paris that smelly bookstores, I was sure.

“Jus! Do you want to got to the top of the Eiffel Tower?” Oh, great, here we go. Jussi would agree with any suggestion which involved lots of motion - because obviously one must not take the elevator to the top, but the stairs.

At the bottom of the tower, I stared up at the daunting task ahead of me. Millions of billions of tourists had stopped to glare at my companions as if Jyrki or Jussi might suddenly rob them all blind, and I did not want to go up that many flights of stairs. It wasn’t that I wasn’t fit or anything (the trillions of stairs in Helsinki had seen to that a long time ago), just sublimely lazy and quite stubborn.

Nearly an hour later, I stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower looking down at Paris - and remembering why I didn’t really enjoy heights all too much. While Jyrki snapped pictures, I clung to the glass as far opposite the wire cage of the top as I could go, and Jussi practically climbed up the cage in his excitement to see Paris form an aerial view. In my most humble opinion, the fronts of the buildings were much more exciting than their tops.

“Alright, alright. We saw it, now can we go about taking the elevator down?”

“No way man, this is awesome! Look, I’m flying!” Jussi stuck his arms through the diamond-shaped holes of the steel cage which surrounded us (and many other tourists) and faked flight beside Jyrki, who meticulously snapped each angle through the camera I had brought up with me.

“I’m not a man, and get down form there! I’m going to have a heart attack!” Absently, Jyrki grabbed a handful of Jussi’s shirt with his free hand and yanked the short youth downwards, still taking pictures. No, I wasn’t enjoying this particular venture, not one bit. I could survive crappy, crab-infested venues, roach motels, long airplane rides without nicotine, but heights were quite beyond the limits of my capacity to contain myself. Forced to remain in the air for this long, I had begun to scrub at the sides of my head with my fingers, which messed up the tight bun I had pulled my hair into that morning and probably made me look like the crazed cat lady from down the street - a look in the glass window behind me confirmed this.

“Jyrki? Please?” The black-haired man turned as if he were about to lecture me on the virtues of patience, but his eyes softened almost instantly.

“Oh, all right Sini. Come on.”

I held Jyrki’s hand firmly as we made our way to the elevator - Jussi ran on ahead as if he wanted to part the crowd for us, a sweet gesture which was slightly less than useless due to his stature (and the fact that the boy moved faster than a gazelle trying to escape a cheetah, even in such a thick crowd). I didn’t (or couldn’t?) speak until both feet were firmly on the ground.

“God that was horrible,” I breathed, as I clutched Jyrki’s broad shoulder for support (I had let go of his hand though, after he complained that his circulation had been cut off and Jussi was going to have to amputate all of his fingers with a drumstick or something cruel like that).

“Let’s go see the Louvre! Come on, you guys, come on!” I was sick of hearing those two words together by that point - Jussi had fidgeted through the entire elevator ride (all five minutes of it) muttering “come on, come on!” under his breath as I fought a full-fledged mental breakdown.

“Give her a minute to catch her breath, Jus!” My black-haired boy tossed his arm over my shoulders and cupped me to his body in a protective manner, running his fingers though my hair and muttering soothing things in my ear - much like someone would do to calm a frightened animal. Which I was. Honestly, sometimes it seemed like Jussi was definitely snorting cocaine when our heads were turned or something, the boy was full of nothing but boundless energy and never-ending cheerfulness; I knew Jyrki would never have stood for it, so Jus’s natural high must have been just that - natural. How could anyone be so hyper and happy all of the time?

I wanted to know his secret, but not really.

Finally, we were on the move again, on the way to the Louvre form the Eiffel tower; the trip involved crossing a pedestrian bridge, and hopping on the Metro for a few stops. By the end of the adventure, the two boys with me were thanking God or whatever deity they so chose that I had been an overachiever and chose to study French in High School; my fluency was what got us across town in an hour, as Parisians tended to scoff at tourists who couldn‘t speak the language.

The time before I had to board a plane back to Helsinki alone passed all too quickly - we had blasted through the Louvre, strolled at a very brisk pace down the Camps d’Elysse, observed the boats on the Seine as we meandered quickly over a pedestrian bridge, and stopped only to sign autographs to black-clad fans in the Latin quarter (and to purchase crepes at a stand for lunch). The day had been my first visit to France, and the most exhausting. But all too soon, I found myself traipsing through a terminal in Charles De Gaulle airport with six companions (aside from Ville, the H.I.M. guys didn’t care enough to wake up at eleven hundred hours to see me off, apparently). Jyrki had wrapped himself around my back and chest and decided he wasn’t going to let go until I was supposed to get on the plane (thank God the guys were there to carry my things).

“Jyrki, really, it will be alright,” I managed, after the lot of us passed security. “I’m only going home, I’ll still be there when you get back!” The boys had made themselves scarce as Jyrki clutched my body to his chest and buried his face in my hair; I found myself stroking his hair and murmuring sweet, soothing nothings in his ear, a strange role reversal.

“But I can’t trust any of the guys to style me like you do, they might stab my eye out with the eyeliner,” He murmured as he began to slowly lean his weight on me.

“Honestly Jyrki, you gotta hold yourself - oh, alright. Fine.” Always the trooper, I tried to hold him up for as long as I could manage before my knees started to collapse beneath his “superior” weight. “Jyrki, please?” He sighed, and resigned himself to sulking with his chin balanced on top of my head - which was a little uncomfortable, but bearable. “Trust me, kulta,, you’ll do fine without me. Just don’t get too drunk on a nightly basis and remember to call me so I know you haven’t forgotten me or something.”

“I would never forget you,” I smiled wryly at his response as I stretched my lips to meet his neck.

“The way girls throw themselves at you every night? I’m sure I wouldn’t be very hard to forget.” I joked, and earned a punch in the arm for the sass. He drew me up on my tiptoes to kiss me, I wrapped my arms around his black-haired head to pull his face down to my reach (Jyrki didn’t understand that even on my tiptoes I was just a touch too short, and resented that I always bore him down, but would never ever stoop on his own). After a few minutes of ‘tongue dancing’ (as Jussi had called it so eloquently one evening backstage), our smooch was broken by a nearby scoff - the boys had returned.

“Ok, so I got you the nicotine gum. Don’t overdose on it, alright?” Ville pressed the brown paper bag into my hands, and added, “Give Hanna a hug and a kiss for me, will you?”

“I’m afraid I’ll only be able to convey a hug, Ville,” I smiled and gave the wiry man a hug - one of Jyrki’s hands had somehow buried itself in my pocket, which made the hug very awkward and inept, but I understood his inability to let go.

Jussi presented the drummer’s magazine to me with a silent pout, and melted back into the semi-circle of men around me without so much as a hug - I would have to single him out for a punch before I got on the plane if there was time. Before I could chase after him, Archie and Baize presented me with a cup of lukewarm coffee and a new pack of cigarettes for when I touched down.

“Thank you guys, it means a lot,” I hugged each of them in turn, trying to balance all of my stuff and still slightly restrained by Jyrki. Timo’s heavy hand ruffled the top of my hair before he moved in for his hug.

After a few more minutes clasped in Jyrki’s arms, I pushed my things into his hands and promised I would be back in a minute and made my way over to where Jussi sat by the gate.

“Hey brat, where’s my hug, huh?” My hand fell heavily on his unspiked, freshly-washed head and mussed the uncharacteristically flat hair. He didn’t budge. “Aw, come on kid. That pout is epic.” I glanced over my shoulder to see the guys all in a knot, discussing and motioning to Jussi and I.

“I thought you were going to stay with us,” He finally murmured, and looked up with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to, but you know I have school, Jus.” I sighed. “That pout is not going to make me stay,” He finally smiled, but only barely, as if he took the statement seriously.

“But it’ll suck without you,” I laughed at the sentiment, and smiled.

“Jyrks and Ville will keep you occupied, I’m sure,”

“Yeah, but they don’t really care.” The statement made me frown - he was right, apparently he had noticed the occasional verbal spars the guys and I got into where I was the only one defending the poor boy. He was a lot smarter than they gave him credit for.

“Get up and give me a hug. And promise to call me, and keep Jyrki off all the girls.” Jussi grinned outright at this, and bounced to his feet. “There you go, that’s the little brother I know,” He threw his petite arms around my shoulders and squeezed me to his chest with force to rival Jyrki’s tight hugs. “’Atta boy.”

We made our way back over to Jyrki and the boys, I chatted with them all before boarding was called. Jyrki pulled me aside at that point for another series of deep kisses, and a murmured conversation.

“What was that all about?”

“He was sad; you guys really are ruthless to him.” Now it was Jyrki’s turn to stare down at his shoes like a guilty child. “He really just needs someone to look out for him, darling, he’s still so young. Way too young for all of the girls, the booze, all of this.”

“I know, Sini, I know.”

“You can keep yourself really busy while I’m gone by looking after him, you know,” I smiled brightly, and stretched up to kiss him once more as the last call for boarding came over the speakers. “I love you, Jyrki, I love you so much.”

“I’m going to miss you, darling. I love you.”

“Love you more.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do!” And we continued until the boys rushed around us for a group hug. With one lass kiss from Jyrki and a hug from each of the guys (even a now-smiling Jussi), and many promises to call I finally split from the group to climb on the plane, sipping the coffee Archie had bought me in an attempt to finish it before it got cold or I needed the nicotine gum Ville had supplied me with.