Wings & Hearts

“Aww, come on Sinikka, can’t I just come with you? Your friends didn’t mind me last time!” I glanced over my shoulder at my brother as I selected my outfit for the evening. It was a Wednesday, but since school was finally out for the summer the day of the week didn’t matter - we saw the summer as an opportunity to drink on days we normally would never dare, such as Sundays and Mondays. Wednesdays were a little less daring - but we had already gone out on Monday this week and decided to give it a break on Tuesday. I had been kind enough to allow Paavo to come drinking with the “Helsinki Vampires” Monday, and my muscular older brother had been a hit - even if he hadn’t shaved off a single one of the three beards he had been nursing since I had arrived in Helsinki last August.

“Fine. But I think it was only Kirsi who liked you,” I sniggered, stuffing a cigarette in my mouth as I reached for the only pair of “angle-stranglers,” a pair of black jeans which I had recently acquired from Hanna and incorporated into the wardrobe of polo’s and khaki I was known for. I felt guilty when I admitted (to myself) that they were actually one of my favorite pieces; the thought alone was enough to make me fold them back up and place them on the shelf with the sea of khaki and sparse sprinkling of jeans. One of these was a pair of skimpy shorts which I tossed on the bed with a pair of opaque tights.

“Sini, sisko,,” Paavo’s face appeared in my doorway as I studied the difference between two polo’s in varying shades of blue (turquoise and aquamarine, respectively) with my cigarette stuck in my mouth.

“What?” The question was places through my teeth.

“What the fuck do I wear?” I rolled my eyes at my older brother.

“If you ever ask me that question again -” I placed the turquoise polo on my bed and hung the aquamarine back in my closet. “I’ll denounce you as gay.” I threw a brown leather belt (another departure from my usual preppy style of ribbon belts) which matched the Sperry’s I meant to wear on the bed. “Just wear your usual crappy jeans and a shredded band t-shirt and those black cowboy boots you have. I like those,”

He disappeared as I began to dress for the evening. The shorts were really too short to wear without the tights without looking overly slutty, and the Sperry’s and belt barely matched one another - I was beginning to look less and less put together each time I went out with my friends, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it or could stop it from happening.

“Let’s go!” Half an hour later, I waited at the door for Paavo, who was even more fickle about his outfit than I had been. His boot steps followed me down the stairs of the apartment as I rushed to make the rail connection that would take us right to Jyrki and Ville’s apartment - I didn’t bother to put out my cigarette in the rush and was nearly ripped off the train before I could toss it out a window.

We arrived at the flat just as Manna and Linde - now an official couple - did, they held open the door for my brother and I and we raced up the stairs to the traditional pre-clubbing party together. I burst through the red door first; we were greeted by cheers and shouts. Paavo was whisked away by Kirsi before I could even think to greet her - I could see them making out in a corner of the living room. It was difficult not to be jealous of my brother, I had been waiting for something like that to happen to me for just under a year.

“Sini, love!” His lips (speak of the devil and he shall appear) touched my cheek, the pale flesh burned form the tequila he had just taken a shot of. Here we go again. I smiled as genuinely as I could and hugged Jyrki, kissing both cheeks as quickly as I could so I could get him to let me go (read: stop tempting me) and find the glass of alcohol I so desperately needed.

It had been like this between us since he had kissed me - we had both been desperately trying to act normal with the assistance of massive amounts of alcohol. My defensiveness had become a natural reaction after several months of waiting - Ville claimed that Jyrki was still interested in me, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I was still interested in him.

“Guess what Sini?” Jyrki followed me into the kitchen as I poured myself a shot of vodka. I slammed two down before I answered.

“What?” The question was more of a forced gasp as the Finlandia Vodka burned its way down my throat. I chased the shots with the fag I had balanced between my fingers.

“We’re going to the Ice Bar tonight!” Eyes widened, I glanced down at the shorts I wore, and sighed.

“Only because I’m wearing shorts, right?” I thumped him on the shoulder with my fist, pouring a glass of alcohol I could carry around with me. “May I borrow a jacket?” Jyrki’s smile spread to his ice blue eyes as his enormous hand settled on the top of my head - he mussed up my hair before he answered.

“Fine. But promise you’ll give this one back, yeah?” I could only grin impishly in reply before I darted down the hall to his bedroom - more specifically, the closet. The only jackets Jyrki owned (aside from a single, smelly, sleeveless jean jacket) were leather, long or short, with patches or plain; and he had nearly as many of them as I had polo’s. I tried a few on before I came across the one I had coveted since I saw him wearing it on campus; it had patches on the sleeves and studs on the collar just like all of his other jackets, but it was supple leather - if I wanted to, I could push the sleeves back to my elbows. It was also only a little too big for me, when I had seen Jyrki in it he had admitted to me that it was too small for him to wear much longer.

Mine now.

Jyrki wandered into his bedroom just as I was finished hanging the rest of his jackets on the line - he set his drink down on the top of the nightstand beside mine before he began rummaging through one of the drawers for a set of skeleton gloves.

“That looks nice on you, darling,” I nodded my thanks with a smoke firmly between my lips as I adjusted the jacket’s fit. “Which one should I wear?” I shot him a funny look - what was with men today? Was Ville going to come prancing in and ask me about his outfit, too? But I selected Jyrki a jacket as he changed his shirt.

“’Ere you go, Jyrks.” I supplied the jacket to him with a flourish as he yanked a t-shirt down over his head. Jyrki wasn’t jacked (like Jussi or - ick - Paavo), but there were abs somewhere beneath a light layer of padding; hell, he had nice arms, I couldn’t begrudge him anything.

“Thank you sweetling.” I smiled in reply. He reached for a black cowboy hat which had hovered in the back of his closet for as long as I had known him.

“Please don’t put that on your head…” My sentence trailed as he grabbed it by the brim - I stuck the cigarette in my mouth to prevent further comment.

“Why not? It looks damn cool.” Jyrki smashed the thing down over his long black hair, I suppressed a grimace.

“No, it doesn’t honey, please take it off.” He didn’t acquiesce my request until we were leaving for the club; he left it on the kitchen counter on the way out the door. I noted its location so that I could smash it drunkenly later.

The Ice bar was so cold that the only way to stay warm sans jacket was to dance one’s ass off - and I did so. Hanna and Kirsi were my permanent dance partners - although our trio soon became a quintet when Manna came to grind on Hanna, with Linde in tow. We danced for quite a while, an entire band finished their set and another one began but we were still going, a cigarette pressed to my lips and a tall glass of vodka balanced in my palm. I couldn’t help but spare Jyrki a glance every few songs; for a while, he sulked into his Tequila, for a while, he took shots with Jussi, for a while, he was gone, and for a while he was back on his own again. Suddenly, I found that my dancing partners had been commandeered by Paavo and Ville - Paavo held a long-necked bottle of beer in one hand and his other rested on Kirsi‘s hip. Disgusted (and also the only single lady in the group) I vacated the dance floor.

Jyrki had a White Russian waiting for me as I leaned against the frozen bar beside the tall, black-haired man. His cool blue eyes matched the ice as he smiled at me - he watched with interest as I chugged the drink and asked for a Peach Vodka on the rocks, simply because I could see the bottle behind the bartender and wasn’t feeling the coffee liqueur any longer.

“My brother is probably about the most disgusting human being on the planet right now,” I mumbled over the music, and leaned into Jyrki’s side as I shivered.

“You know, we could get you one of those lovely warm, blue parka things,” Jyrki parried, I simply laid my head on his shoulder and sucked on my cigarette for warmth. His large hand reached over to zip the jacket I wore up and then came to rest on my shoulder.

For the rest of the evening we sat (or rather, stood and danced for warmth) at the bar and chatted idly about life as we had for nearly a year. As usual, I waited for something I had been hoping would happen for nearly a year, but as usual, it never came. We didn’t leave the bar until I had enough vodka of various flavors to make me incapable of walking well - I rode piggy-back all the way back to Jyrki and Ville’s apartment.

Waking up in Jyrki’s bed - or elsewhere in Jyrki and Ville’s apartment - was nothing unusual these days, the entire group (which was collectively known as the “Helsinki Vampires,” a fond nickname from Helsinki Bartenders) could be considered alcoholics easily. Of course, a few did worse than drink, but I rarely had to witness any of the “subculture” stuff. As usual (I had developed an affinity for loosing my clothing in various ways), I grabbed one of Jyrki’s enormous t-shirts and swam through the fabric on the way to the kitchen. As usual, the abnormally tobacco-conscious Ville had salvaged my cigarettes for me, and as usual, Jyrki was in the kitchen wearing basketball shorts and a pair of thick woolen socks.

“What will it be then, Sini, coffee or these delicious sunny-side-up eggs?” My gag gave him his answer as I sat on the counter beside the deep sink and lit a cigarette. “Always the party-pooper.”

“God, I can never figure it out Jyrki, how the hell are you always sober enough to want breakfast after we drink?” He put a cup of coffee in my hands as I asked, that trademark mysterious smile crossed his lips.

“Ancient Finnish Secret. If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

“Frequent Sauna visits,” I speculated with a wry grin, downing as much of the hot black coffee as I could in one gulp. I finished the cup of coffee and my cigarette at the same time, I lit a new one as Jyrki watched - eating his eggs like a starved dog.

“Could you, maybe?” My thin arm held out the mug to him over the top of the island in the middle of the kitchen. He took it, leaving both of my hands free so I could light another cigarette.

“You know,” He poured slowly, refilling his own cup and mine in turn before he crossed the kitchen to set mine down on the stone countertop beside me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat anything, do you exist on a diet of coffee and cigarettes?” I chuckled at the remark.

“Indeed I do, that and human blood. Oh, and fear, don’t forget the fear.” I smiled so that each and every one of my teeth showed.

“Oh, knock it off.” Jyrki retrieved his eggs and leaned on the countertop next to me, he offered me a strip of bacon which I took, if only to show him that I could ingest food items. Bacon and cigarette were an interesting combination. Absently (after I finished my bacon), I began to braid Jyrki’s too-long black hair, my cigarette clamped between my teeth.

“You better not light me on fire sweetling.” He quipped as I finished the braid, which hung between his shoulder blades. His hair was longer than mine. I paused to take a breath of my cigarette and then set the thing in the nearby ashtray (they were scattered all about the house because of Ville’s chain smoking).

“Your hair’s so soft, tell me, what kind of shampoo do you use?” I shot back, undoing the braid gently. Jyrki’s head turned beneath my palms as I did so, I found my hands rested on his cheeks rather than the back of his head.

“Essence of baby tears.” That smile again. I wanted to kiss that smile off his face.

It must have been the hangover; but I leaned my face down to his - I hovered above him for a moment, our breaths mixed together as his eyes slid closed. Jyrki’s enormous hands on the back of my head and neck pulled my lips to his. Most people say shit about fireworks when they talk about true love’s first (second, technically) kiss, all of that corny baloney.

I felt a burn, like tequila dancing on my tongue, only much more pleasant.