Call my Catharsis I


Summary: An explanation for Tuomas’s shy behaviour, and his regular appearance in the backgrounds of Marco pics. TBC?
Pairing: Tuomas/Marco
Rating: PG





He stands, as ever after a show, drunk in the moonlight. I envy him.

I’ve never envied someone so much, but now as I look at him tonight, I realize just what I envy (and what I envy in the other people).

Happiness is something that escapes me. I strive to find it; once like a stranded pilot searching for water on a desert island, sometimes by blotting out the entire world around me, or like recently, leeching off other people’s happiness and pretending it is mine to share.

I look at him now standing in the moonlight, perfectly happy with his beer. Happy with the people, and all that this fucking night has to offer.



It’s not long before I swallow a lump rising in my throat. I envy so many things about Marco I lose count.

But those feelings aren’t just solely jealou-

He’s looking at you, Tuomas, look away!


I can’t. I try to, but I can’t.

I’m turning red under the moon. The little girl who asked for my autograph stares in confusion at me staring at that Viking in the corner.

Who’s staring back.

Unashamedly, boldly looking at me. What the Hell does that drunk giant want?

I can’t accept the challenge that his blue eyes pin me with; I look around silently. The shy Tuomas fans know emerges.

But underneath the shyness of my averted eyes burns a pyre lit for Marco. And all that the jealousy does is fan the flames.





Swimming under the moonlight and across the dark pavement he stalks, beer in hand, a serious concerned look on his face.


I notice immediately and jump, the girl jumps with me and whimpers- she scurries off to her friends. I’ll see her later on the forums under the topic ‘What’s wrong with Tuomas?’.

I wish I was her and I could scurry away. I envy she doesn’t have all this worry.

Envy again.


And I envy every inanimate object at this moment, because no inanimate object can look as scared as I do now.


A firm clasp on my shoulder, but the fingers are warm and gentle. I can smell his smell, cigarettes and assorted alcohol, each scent crashing against my senses like water against a beach. It’s attractive, though I daren’t tell him that. Instead I look down further, if that’s possible.

He leans closer.

No, God, please.

He speaks, and I feel his warm breath caressing my face, a fire in the night.

The moonlight bounces off the long hair that’s fallen into his eyes.

‘Hey, everything’s OK?’ he asks.


I really don’t know what to answer him. What I would really want to do is run back to the bus. That’s not an option though.

He shakes me gently.

Answer, Tuomas. Say you’re OK.



‘I-’

I’m OK, say it. OK. You’re OK.




‘love you.’


You’ve always been a failure, Tuomas.