Foolish Games

48. Once upon a time

Later that evening after Dima and Linda had gone home, Joni was laying on the bed watching Misha who slowly sipped his beer sitting on the armchair.

"So... What did my dad want?" Joni asked. "What did he say to you?" He had wanted to ask that earlier, but there hadn't been many opportunities.

"He just wanted to thank me," the blond man answered with a small smile. "For saving you. Though I'm not sure he needed to thank me for it." Misha was feeling pleasantly lightheaded after enjoying a few drinks that evening. He had relaxed enough after Joni had assured that he didn't mind if the rest of them drank.

"Oh," Joni wasn't sure what to say at first. He remembered the night with Misha, the morning when he had woken with such an intense feeling of panic in his chest, and the note he had left behind. "What made you decide to go after me?" He asked after small hesitation.

Misha looked back at him and took another sip of his bottle before answering. "I wanted to finally clear things between us, wanted to get answers. I already suspected he might not be treating you right but I didn't know how bad it was."

"What if it hadn't been that bad?" Joni dared to ask. "If you had found me home without him?"

"I would have done my best to persuade you into leaving him," Misha replied honestly, the alcohol he had consumed that evening had made him more relaxed and open. Joni smiled at this, though his smile was slightly melancholy; how he wished it could have gone that way. Wished, that he could have spared himself and Misha seeing this low point of his life.

"I guess it could have happened sooner or later," Joni sighed, shifting his gaze towards the window.

"What?"

"This... What he did... Ever since that first..." Joni hesitated. "Beating, I knew that even if I would ignore the pictures. The chance of leaving him and getting out without... drama, was impossible."

"Do you want to talk about it? About the relationship and..." Misha shrugged feeling somewhat awkward, "feelings?" He wasn't good at this stuff.

"Feelings?" Joni chuckled and looked at him. "It's sweet that you suggest that but no, I'm fine, I'm not in the mood to talk. I want... I want something else to think of, something light and innocent," a small pause. "Tell me a story?"

"A story?" Misha cocked his eyebrow.

"Yeah," Joni gave a small smile. "Hmm... A story about a drunken teddy bear with an addiction to vodka and a confused alien who has a thing for teddy bears?" He grinned.

"Did you steal some alcohol when Ivo and I weren't looking?" Misha asked partly amused. "You know you shouldn't drink with your medication."

"I haven't. I just want a story."

"Well, I'm no storyteller, sorry... I can read you something?" Misha suggested.

"If I want I can read myself since my eye is not so swollen anymore. I want you to tell me a story. Come on, don't be such a tight ass, try it."

"Tight ass?" Again Misha cocked his eyebrow.

"Yes."

"I'm not a tight ass," Misha argued.

"Sometimes you are," Joni merely smiled. "And it looks pretty tight to me, or do you wish to argue about that?"

Misha chuckled, "I know my ass is great. But enough of that."

"So, the story? I'm sure that Ivo would tell me. Should I ask him instead?"

Misha sighed; Joni knew which strings to pull and that Ivo card did the trick. "Fine," he grumbled. "So," he started and paused to think. "Once upon a time," that was how stories usually started, right?′ He wondered and somehow felt both silly and amused. "There was this.... fox..."