#couldn't write short even if i wanted to so just deal with it alright 😅

[theflyingfeeling]

Prompt no. 10 with joonas/olli? 🥺

Awww, that's a cute one! 🥰

10. I have SAD and you drag me out to do all the fun spring things to wake me up from my hibernation (2866 words)

~

Olli could tell who was behind the door by the way the doorbell chimed exactly four times; Joonas may not have been the most neurotic of Olli’s friends – it was Joel who had that credit – but he did hold an irrational loathing of odd numbers. “What if the leftover number gets lonely?” had been the answer when Olli had once asked him about it, and although Olli had been tempted to point out that mathematical figures likely have no feelings and are, thus, unable to grasp the concept of lonesomeness, he had simply smiled and nodded, as if the Porko way of thinking was logical in any aspect.

He noticed his thoughts had begun drifting again when the doorbell sounded another four times. The soft but insisting noise had him nuzzling his face against the throw pillow under his head and muffle his helpless wail on the worn fabric. Apart from having a thing for even numbers, Joonas was also known for having an exceptional hearing, scaringly so, in fact; on more than one occasion, Olli had suspected the man could hear inside his head, which was unsettling to say the least.

There was a short silence after the second sequence of the rhythmic doorbell melody, and then there were exactly four knocks that Olli could only just hear through the double door. When he cracked his eyes open enough to see his phone screen light up on the coffee table, he thanked his past self for turning the device on mute. 

He wasn’t avoiding Joonas, mind you. He was avoiding everyone.

He was avoiding Niko, whose spirits were 100% restored once the thermal spring started, and it was a rare evening when he wasn’t bombarding the group chat with invitations to get beers at every terrace in town (Olli had beer in his fridge and a balcony opening from his living room, so excuse him if he didn’t quite understand the appeal).

He was avoiding Aleksi, who always seemed to panic about the amount of sunlight each spring and was, therefore, working twice as hard as he had been during the darker times of the year (it usually passed as the spring progressed, but it made Olli feel awfully bad about himself for the time it lasted nevertheless, as all he could find the willpower to do was drinking aforementioned beer on aforementioned balcony).

He was avoiding Joel, who was actually his usual nervous self even in springtime, safe for the pitiful longing he always adopted on his face when the sunset gave Aleksi’s bright eyes an orange hue (it was none of Olli’s business of course, but it was eternally frustrating, knowing the vocalist would rather let the market square seagulls peck him alive than admit his crush to their percussionist).

He had had faith in Tommi, given the man was unlikely to let even the sudden arrival of the next ice age destabilise his daily affairs, but this spring in particular Tommi, too, had a new kind of glow to his eyes that made him view the world with such delight and confidence that even his company had been unbearable lately. 

Olli knew he was being a proper downer and he hated himself for it, but he simply couldn’t force himself to even pretend he got a kick out of being out and about, surrounded by laughing, sociable people basking in the sun as if their lives depended on it while all he wanted to do was bury himself under the blankets and instead pretend he didn’t exist until the seasons would change to be more in favour of shy and socially awkward basket cases such as himself.

He wasn’t sure why, though. His best guess was that all the increased sunlight made him feel exposed, somehow. Perhaps he was afraid that without the shield of darkness and shadows, everyone would see him for the clumsy fool he was; the sun would point its flaming finger at each and every one of his errors and mishaps, so he’d rather stay in, where nobody could call attention to his many faults (an unreasonable fear, he knew, yet it always navigated to his chest every year in April and built a nest there like a migratory bird (the common chaffinch, Olli liked to think) and laid a dozen eggs there that wouldn’t hatch and fly away until the leaves started turning yellow and red again in late August).

And yes, Olli was avoiding Joonas as well, but not because the man had embraced an insufferable habit around the time of the vernal equinox; no, Porko was Porko 365 days of the year. His only fault was, ironically and rather tragicomically, being too good a friend.

To Olli’s great frustration, Joonas saw it as his personal responsibility to try and bring Olli back to the land of the living from the comforting zone of his dusty apartment he had locked himself in last November with no intention to step outside unless he ran out of beer. Joonas’ methods, however, were eclectic and many, and more often than not Olli would eventually surrender and pop his head out, just to see what Joonas was on about. 

And the thing about Joonas Porko was that if you gave him an inch, he’d soon take a whole goddamn yard.

Not this time, though, Olli thought to himself as he pulled his blanket to his ears and snuggled deeper into his sofa. I’m perfectly fine over here, hidden from the world and that giant, blazing star you all worship so; you can stick it up your bums for all I care and laugh your stupid fake-laughs about it until you choke on your artisan ales.

His phone screen had turned off a while ago, Olli realised, and he was surprised to see how quickly Joonas had given up on him this time.

That was when Olli heard the mail slot clank, and then the echoes of the deserted stairway of the building carried the sound of the front door opening and closing. 

He managed to fight his self-control a good five, maybe ten minutes until his curiosity got the best of him and he stood up, still wrapped in the fleece comforter his mother had given him for Christmas last year, and plodded to the hallway to see if the noise had been nothing but a trick of his mind.

The inner door creaked when Olli opened it and revealed two yellow dandelions on the floor. 

Olli sighed and shook his head when he picked up the flowers, but as he looked at them, he imagined Joonas crouching by the side of the road to pick up weeds, counting them as he did; one more always became two more, because flowers would definitely understand such human sentiments as loneliness  (at least if you were to ask Joonas Porko). 

The smile Olli had so bravely tried to resist was reaching his ears by the time he was back in the living room with a phone in his hand.

~

“We’re gonna do what?” Olli frowned when Joonas led him down the road, a gloved hand holding his already freezing one. 

He was already regretting letting Joonas drag him out when he had appeared at his door in the morning.

“We’re gonna climb a tree!”

Olli looked at his friend as if he had just announced he was going to build a spacecraft and travel to Mars.

“Why?!”

“Well, why not?” Joonas shrugged, like climbing a tree was an every-day activity for him.

(And, well, knowing Porko, it might just have been.)

“Because we’re not eight years old?”

“And haven’t you missed it all these years, huh?” Joonas stopped walking and stepped to stand in front of Olli. His hand rested at the back of Olli’s neck, his fingertips playing with the tufts of hair there. “Now, wipe that silly pout off your face and relax, alright?”

Olli rolled his eyes.

“For me, Olli? Please?” Joonas batted his big eyes and tilted his head just enough to perfect his most insufferable pleading face. 

The funniest thing was that Joonas wouldn’t even have to use his puppy eyes on Olli; “for me?” did the trick just as fine. 

(Because for himself, Olli could barely manage to open the fridge and cook himself a meal some days, but for Joonas? Oh, for him, Olli would make the whole world from scratch.)

Olli instantly missed the warmth of Joonas’ hand when they arrived at a tall oak tree and Joonas let go of him to grab one of the lowest branches. To Olli it didn’t look nearly thick enough to carry the weight of a grown man, but Olli was in the firm belief that Joonas would learn the best from his own mistakes.

Indeed, the branch let out a questionable creak when Joonas leaned on it, after which the man abandoned the idea and tried another, a notably steadier one on the other side of the trunk and hurled himself on it before extending his hand towards Olli. 

Olli was only a little nervous when the branch creaked ominously as he sat next to Joonas, but his worries were replaced with peace and birdsong when Joonas’ hand wrapped around his waist and his nose touched Olli’s temple. He leaned against the touch and closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Not sure this counts as climbing a tree, though.” Olli said, dangling his feet barely half a metre above the ground.

Joonas’ breath felt warm when he chuckled against Olli’s cheek.

“Santeri would kill us if we showed up at the tour bus in June with plaster casts.”

Olli agreed, although the scent of Joonas next to him had erased all the vocabulary to voice his opinion off his already scattered brain.

~

Olli was quite satisfied with himself for having survived One Spring Activity™ and contently thought it would be enough to convince himself and others that he was, against all odds, a functionable human being. Joonas, of course, begged to differ, as Olli was soon to find out when his oldest friend appeared behind his door again the next day.

“But it’s raining!” Olli complained and, for good measure, pointed out his window in case Joonas had somehow missed the downpour on his way to Olli’s apartment. “What could you possibly do in a weather like this, other than lie in bed watching films?” he asked and wistfully glanced at his TV, currently paused halfway through The Two Towers.

“You’re gonna help me plant my herbs.”

Olli smiled but shook his head.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are,” Joonas nodded insistently, “Joel would come too, but he’s busy this time. It’s our annual tradition, actually.”

“Sure he is,” Olli muttered, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not imagine Joel getting his fingertips black unless it was nail polish. 

Still, sooner than Olli registered, he found himself filling a brick red claypot with soil and some smelly stuff Joonas said was fertiliser. 

“This will be basil,” Joonas explained as he worked on his own pot. “What shall we name him?”

Olli blinked, but seeing how Joonas went on with his task without dropping a beat, it appeared he was dead serious about giving a seed plant a name.

“But it’s…a basil,” Olli pointed out nevertheless, although he knew it would be in vain.

“Yes, and he should have a name, so that I’ll know who I’m directing my praise and encouragement to,” Joonas elaborated patiently. 

Olli was horrified to find himself thinking that it almost made sense.

“Can’t you just name it…Basil.”

“Basil the Basil?” Joonas looked at him unimpressed.

“It’s a name,” Olli assured him and hoped Joonas wouldn’t take out his phone and check if it actually was, for Olli himself actually wasn’t half as certain as he may have sounded.

“Alright,” Joonas shrugged to his relief, “but I’ll have you know that among friends he’s called Olli.” 

The look of triumph on Joonas’ face was equal amounts  endearing and annoying, and for a second Olli considered throwing the lump of soil in his hand at it.

“Then I guess it’s only reasonable we name the tarragon after Joel.”

To hell with the singing of the blackbird; Joonas’ hearty laughter was much more beautiful to Olli than any sound of the spring.

~

Although they had had fun sitting on an old oak watching the brimstones fly by and naming Joonas’ unborn herbs after all their mutual friends, Olli was all but ready to retreat to his bedroom for the rest of the spring and maybe come back out to join the others at Niko’s summer cottage for midnight sauna and beers. Yet, when the doorbell rang four times once more the next day, Olli did not stop his feet from walking to the door and greeting Joonas. He was wearing a dandelion behind his ear and offered Olli the one in his hand. 

“Come,” he said and grabbed Olli’s hand, “today I’ve got something special to show you.”

Olli did not know where Joonas was taking him, walking them down narrow alleyways Olli would have avoided at all cost had it not been full daylight and Joonas’ hand in his, until they arrived at the gate of a small park Olli vaguely remembered having biked past a couple of times but never really paid much attention to before.

As if to check everything was alright, Joonas glanced at Olli and squeezed his hand before stepping in through the gate and leading him ahead with determination in his step. It was an elegant and well kept park from what Olli could tell, with colour-coordinated plantings and even a small fountain, which was why Olli was surprised the only people they saw were an elderly man resting on a bench and a young woman walking her spaniel. 

Somewhere in the middle of the park there was a small log cabin. Olli’s eyes lit up when he noticed the menu hanging on the wall next to its front door – Joonas’ unexpected appearance in the morning had interrupted his intentions to get breakfast – but then he saw the sign on the door that read SORRY WE’RE CLOSED and pursed his lips that would not get to wrap around a BLT or a brownie after all.

After his disappointment had passed, he was about to ask where in the world was Joonas taking him if not for a brunch at this secluded little café that seemed quite special indeed, but then he was being pulled behind the cottage, and suddenly he understood. 

At what seemed to be the backyard of the café, they were soon standing on a small pathway shaded by trees not taller than two metres, growing on both sides of the trail, their branches reaching over the gravel like an arch. When Olli looked up, instead of the blue sky he saw small, pink flowers blooming among green leaves, slightly smaller than what Olli had seen in the pictures he browsed whenever he daydreamed about a trip to Japan, and perhaps they were a little stunted as well, but he was still speechless and could only gawk at sight above them.

“They’re young trees, so the blossom isn’t very strong yet,” Joonas said quietly (to not hurt the flower’s feelings, Olli assumed). 

Olli heard his friend inhale and exhale deeply before he continued.

“But I couldn’t wait for any longer,” Joonas turned to look at Olli. “I wanted for you to see them.”

Joonas’ thumb rubbed the back of Olli’s palm, and Olli used it to ground himself enough to speak, despite his lungs being short of breath and his mind empty of coherent thoughts at Joonas’ words.

“You did?” He wished he’d have something more intelligent to offer to the conversation, but the way Joonas’ blue eyes reflected the colour of the flowers was too mesmerising for him to keep his head clear.

Joonas smiled and squeezed Olli’s hand so hard it almost hurt. “I thought it could…äh, nevermind.” Joonas laughed briefly and looked down at the gravel beneath their feet. A single pink petal fell on his blond curls.

“No, tell me,” Olli insisted and stepped closer, not realising what he had done until Joonas looked up again and touched Olli’s nose with his.

“I thought it could make you see how beautiful spring can be. If you stop and look,” Joonas said. The blue in his eyes had turned hazy.

“I never doubted it,” Olli told him. 

“Then what is it?” Joonas but whispered as he pulled Olli closer and looked at him in a way that had Olli believe he wanted to hear about all his sorrows. 

“Rather I…doubt myself, or something,” Olli chuckled but held his breath when Joonas’ fingertips touched his cheek.

Joonas’ smile was affectionate and warm, not sardonic or dismissive like Olli had always feared. 

“Why would you?” Joonas’ lips were almost touching Olli’s now. “You’re way more beautiful than the cherry blossoms and the spring itself anyway.”

It wasn’t easy for Olli to place confidence in Joonas’ words, but the way his lips moved against his own sure helped with the matter.