The Orchestra - Sinfónia Lifsins - 39. History Walkers Sleepover Marathon

IN DEFENSE OF A FRIEND

By Jónas Jónatansson

In the past few days, much has been said in our printed media about a certain Russian oboist and his ‘immoral’ past. In less than a week, Dmitri Miroslavich Kovlov has had his romantic relationship with a co-worker questioned, his past scrutinised without his consent, and his right to a dignified life in this country severely threatened by a fabricated media panic. Newspapers now cry for his dismissal from the Icelandic Symphony Orchestra (ISO), competing to see who can make the most racists remarks per paragraph.

The irony must be lost on those people that, in inciting such xenophobic hatred, they are the ones who go against the ‘Icelandic values’ they shamelessly accuse Dmitri of desecrating. Racism, just like homophobia, is a crime. This hatred of any person based solely on nationality, culture, or sexual orientation is so contrary to our ‘values’ as a society that we even included it in our penal code. So think again before you believe ‘the Russian menace’ is actually any danger at all.

Another accusation made against Dmitri (this one verified only by the claims of an ‘anonymous source’) is that he used to be a sex worker before his career as a musician. The same article implied heavily (because making it into a formal accusation would only highlight their inability to prove such claims) that Dmitri would still be engaging in ‘[the exchange] of sexual favours for money’ here in Iceland.

Here? In Iceland? In this society that is so morally perfect we never accuse people without proof, nor launch massive defamatory campaigns against individuals for apparently no reason at all? If that is the case, then Dmitri must be single-handedly embarking on a crusade to destroy our perfect little island, one paid blowjob at a time!

The year 2013 has just started. More than a decade into the new millennium, and even a society that prides itself in being at the vanguard of progress can still produce vile pieces of hatred and bigotry. Iceland is the only country to ever elect a lesbian Prime Minister. We take pride in being the country where women and men are deemed most equal. Yet, here I am, on 7^th January 2013, sitting angrily at my desk exercising all of my self-control to not write page after page of foul words. How can it be that such a progressive, forward-looking society still holds so many prejudices? Why are we not crying for a public apology by the newspaper instead of demanding that Dmitri lose his job?

I have already mentioned the racism imbedded in every single article concerning Dmitri. However, a much more overt kind of bigotry and shaming happened on account of Dmitri’s alleged past as a sex worker. Without getting to the matter of whether those allegations are true or not, one thing must be said once and for all: it is none of our business.

It is about time we stop shaming sex workers because of the way they earn a living. It does not matter if those people were forced onto the job by others, if they were forced to do it because of their unfortunate circumstances, or if they got into it because they enjoy the work. It is not our place to judge the way other people live their lives. It is not our place to shame them, or to want them out of the country.

So what is really shameful here is not that Dmitri may have had a completely different career before becoming a musician in Iceland. It is not shameful (and much less a ‘menace’) that Dmitri is in a lovely, respectful, and caring relationship with another human being who happens to share his taste in music (and who also happens to be a talented young violinist). What is shameful is the way we use racism, xenophobia, and whorephobia to attack another human being who has done nothing to deserve such onslaught.

If we really want to call ourselves ‘progressive’ and boast about our respect for human rights, then we can start by calling out the senseless bigotry that surrounds us. We can stop mistrusting people because they come from another part of the world. We can deconstruct the idea that sex for money is inherently evil and that the people who take part in it are tainted for life. We can be good, decent human beings if we stop judging one another and instead concentrate on how amazing our unique talents are.

Dmitri is a musician. He is good enough in what he does to be accepted in our world-class orchestra. Until such time he is no longer performing his job to the standards set in his contract, we have no right to ask for his resignation. And, most importantly, there will never be a time when we can ask for his head.

(...)

Jó’s article came out on Tuesday, barely twenty-four hours after the newspapers tried to use Dmitri’s past against him. My cousin-in-law beamed when he saw that his writing had been printed over one whole page and illustrated with the same picture from the New Year Concert that had started this whole nightmare. The article was even advertised on the front page.

“Well, they are hoping to create a controversy around Dmitri and use it to sell more papers, but as long as it means more people will get to see it, I don’t care that much,” Jó said. The newspaper was spread open on our breakfast table, with Eiri and I peeking over Jó’s shoulder to read it.

“It’s a very good piece, Jó. You really were on fire!” Eiri hugged his husband and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks. I hope Dmitri likes it as well.” Jó kissed Eiri back, and then turned to me. “What do you think, Gunni?”

“I think Dmitri will like it. You’re really good, Jó.”

“Thank you for the ego boost, you two!” Jó beamed, turning around to hug us. “I feel proud of myself too. I just hope this will actually have an effect…”

“I think, if anything, ticket sales for the next concert will explode,” Eiri said. “One way or another, the ISO was on the news, and people probably got curious about what you guys actually do.”

“If it happens as you say, it’s probably because people will want to see if Dmitri still has his job or not.” Jó sighed. “It’ll be like the final chapter of a soap opera; everyone wants to see how the drama ends.”

(...)

As it turned out, Eiri was right. After Jó’s article was published, the remaining seats for our Thursday performance sold out in a flash. I didn’t want to think that all those people were there just to witness Dmitri’s potential downfall, but my colleagues thought this was the case too. It was all they talked about for the next two days at rehearsal.

Dmitri called me soon after I finished eating breakfast. He wanted to thank Jó for his article and let me know that he would be going to rehearsal later that day and on Wednesday. If he thought it was safe enough for him to go, I decided I could do so too. Dmitri and I had not showed up to work since our live televised concert on Thursday. This meant that, for the second time in my three-months-long career, I was going to perform after just two days of rehearsal.

When I arrived in the practice room, I found most of my colleagues already sitting in their places whispering amongst themselves and looking at copies of the newspaper where Jó’s article had been published.

“Hey, Gunni is back! What a great day!” Santa shouted when he saw me approach. “We missed you!”

“Thanks. I missed you too,” I answered, smiling to Santa until I reached my seat.

“Before I fill you in with the stuff we’ve been doing with the music, I need to tell you what we plan to do for our grand entrance on Thursday,” Santa said. All other conversations slowly died out around us.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been thinking of ways to show our support for you and Dmitri in some very public and slightly outrageous way,” Santa explained. The players sitting behind us smirked. “And I think we just came up with the perfect plan…”

Santa explained the plan to me over the next few minutes. While he was talking, Dmitri and his housemates arrived for the rehearsal, just in time to hear the most exciting part of it. My boyfriend liked what he heard, and made a point of hugging and kissing the cheek (or mouth, for the surprisingly many who were willing) of every single one of his colleagues. It was quite an amusing scene, and everyone was laughing hard by the time he was done.

We rehearsed the ‘plan’ many times over the next two days. My part in it required a kind of poker face that I wasn’t sure I would be able to pull off when the time finally came, so we worked a lot towards making me feel calm and collected enough for it.

(...)

“Ok, the time has come. Good luck, you two!” Santa shook both our hands before making his way to the stage doors. My boyfriend and I, together with Gummi, were the only ones remaining in the room. I felt my heartbeats increase as the moment I was expected to walk onto the stage drew closer.

“You’ll be fine. Just take a deep breath and remember to act natural,” Dmitri said, rubbing my shoulder to help me relax. “It’ll be like any other concert you’ve done before. The only difference is that you’ll have to stand for a long time looking at an empty chair.”

“What if the audience finds it weird? What if they shout things at us?” I asked. I didn’t mean to, but my mind had automatically started to come up with all possible ways the plan could go wrong.

“That’s why both Gummi and Siggi have microphones. We’ll play nice if they play nice, but we’ll raise our tone if they raise theirs.” Dmitri smiled. He was nowhere nearly as worried as I was. Gummi nodded and pointedly looked at the microphone resting on a table nearby.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Gunni. Good luck,” Gummi announced. Dmitri took my hand and walked with me almost all the way to the stage doors, careful not to be seen by anyone on the other side of it.

“Good luck. It’ll be awesome!” Dmitri kissed me, and I took a deep breath before finally walking onto the stage to the usual polite ovation. I shook Santa’s hand and stood beside my chair, using all my mental power to not blush or show my nervousness. I rested my violin on my shoulder and raised the bow, looking towards Dmitri’s empty chair. In any normal concert this would be the cue for the principal oboe to play the first tuning note, but obviously Dmitri wasn’t there to do it. So I just waited, and because I was the orchestra’s leader, everyone else waited with me.

The waiting was the hardest part. I knew Gummi would tell Dmitri to walk onto the stage just as the tension around us reached its peak, but until then I had to be able to stand in silence, never looking away from the empty chair. We wanted to give a clear message that Dmitri was part of the ISO, and that we wouldn’t play without him. Hopefully the audience would understand that, and once Dmitri walked onto the stage we would be able to carry on as normal. After a few moments of silence I started to hear whispers from the audience. I wanted to see what they were doing, but I wasn’t allowed to take my eyes away from Dmitri’s chair.

Thankfully, the suspense didn’t last for long. When Dmitri finally walked in to join us, Siggi give the cue for everyone to stand and applaud him. Dmitri walked up to me, kissed my forehead tenderly, and waltzed between the second violins and the violas to get to his place. Karen, Vác, and Ugla patted him on the back when he approached his section, and Isól, his fellow oboist, hugged him. Only when Dmitri sat down did the clapping stop. Everyone but me sat again, and Dmitri opened his widest smile before finally playing the first tuning note.

We made our message as clear as we could. Hopefully the packed audience would understand it, and the ISO would be able to finally put this nightmare to rest.

(...)

“Aw, thanks a lot, everybody!” Dmitri bowed to everyone as soon as we reached the backroom for our twenty-minute interval. “What you did there means a lot to me. I’m really lucky to work with such wonderful people!”

“Nah, we were just doing what we had to do.” Emil, the associate principal flute, patted Dmitri on the back. The other woodwind players were surrounding him, and took turns to show their appreciation for their colleague.

“We couldn’t just sit by and let the rest of the country think you’re an awful person!” Isól said.

“And breaking protocol is always nice.” Ugla added, nodding vigorously with an almost scary enthusiasm.

“You don’t need to thank us so much. You’re almost overdoing it by now,” Karen warned, though she winked playfully at her housemate.

“Aw, guys! But yes, I really mean that. And to prove my point, drinks tonight are all on me!” Dmitri announced, not letting his colleagues deflect the value of their gesture. Everyone eagerly followed Dmitri out of the room and towards the bar, but I didn’t feel like going with them. It would still be another three years before I was legally allowed to drink, though even if I was already old enough, my attitude towards alcohol was very similar to the one I had around sex: it’s nice that there are people who enjoyed it, but I still had my reservations about joining in.

Once everyone had left, I realised that Siggi and Vác had also stayed behind. It was nice to see that I would have some company for the next twenty minutes, but being almost alone around Siggi made me kind of anxious. Even if our last interaction had ended on its most positive note so far, I knew he had only tolerated me because of Dmitri. Now that my boyfriend wasn’t here, though, he was already sending me deathly glares from half a room away.

“Gunni, Siggi, can I ask you something?” Vác asked, coming between Siggi and me. Siggi sent him a death glare too.

I realised I should answer before the cellist ended up saying something rude. “Sure, what is it?”

“Seeing as I’ll be leaving on Monday to shoot the History Walkers special episode, I thought I should invite some of my friends to a weekend-long screening marathon of the movie and the TV series. I know neither of you have seen it yet, so if you want to give it a shot… I think it would be good to get in the mood for when we record the episode’s soundtrack,” Vác answered. He seemed a little anxious, or maybe he was just as wary of Siggi as I was.

“Yes, I would love to! Thank you!” I answered, more enthusiastically than I probably should have. The combination of feeling Siggi’s cold stare on me and the fact that I had been invited to hang out with a colleague I barely knew caused some degree of overreaction. As per usual in those situations, I felt my cheeks burn.

“You’re welcome. I’m going to invite more people too, but I thought it would be easier to start when there aren’t that many of you around,” Vác explained. I noticed he was blushing too, and that made me feel somehow comforted. Even if I didn’t know Vác that well, we seemed to have a few things in common other than suddenly achieving celebrity status at the age of sixteen.

“It’s definitely easier to get your voice heard that way,” Siggi said. He didn’t sound happy. Vác and I ended up blushing even more when we realised Siggi was indirectly scolding us.

“Do you want to come, Siggi?” Vác asked after taking a deep breath and making an effort to look straight at Siggi’s face.

“Whether I want to come or not doesn’t really matter. You’ll invite Dmitri and he’ll drag me along under promises of wild kinky sex afterwards. Count me in.”

I did not want to imagine my boyfriend having porn-style kinky sex with Siggi. I did not want to see Dmitri wearing leather clothes and parading naked Siggi around on a leash. I did not want to hear Dmitri’s massively scary penis doing things with a Siggi who was tied up to the ceiling and suspended from the ground with dangerous-looking hooks and tight ropes. Yet my mind forced me to watch all those made-up scenes as soon as Siggi mentioned the word ‘kinky’.

I never regretted the day when Fríða showed me those gay porn videos as much as I did now.

“Oh… ok.” Judging by Vác’s answer, he was probably having very similar thoughts. Neither of us felt like talking after this, and Siggi was obviously much happier left on his own. The three of us waited in silence for the rest of our colleagues to come back and get ready for the second half. Thankfully everyone played well despite being already a little tipsy. Vác invited some more people to his party once the concert was over, and managed to give me his address just as Eiri and Jó appeared to take me home.

(...)

“Oh, I can’t believe our Gunni is going to his first sleepover party! Kids these days grow up so fast!” Jó burst into full dramatic mode as he oversaw my packing for Vác’s sleepover party. Eiri was in the room with us and was the first to laugh.

“Yes, Jó, our kid is growing up. You better get used to it, otherwise when we actually have our own little babies, you’ll die the first time they say they don’t need you to wipe their bottoms anymore.”

“That’s not true, Eiri!” Jó protested. I watched their banter with an amused smile, trying to imagine what their children would be like. Judging by the way they took care of me, they would be great parents one day. “I would cry my heart out the whole night long, but I wouldn’t die at the first sign that my child is becoming independent!”

“Then stop fawning over Gunni and let him choose his own underwear.” Somehow Eiri managed to keep a straight face, but Jó and I burst out laughing.

“But he can’t sleep without his lucky boxers! I can’t let him spend the night at a stranger’s place without his lucky boxers! And his cute bear pyjamas!”

Eiri finally joined us in the laughter. Tjúlli sneakily entered the bedroom, wondering what all our noise was about.

“I’ll be fine, Jó. I’ve been to sleepovers before; we did it all the time in Akureyri.” I tried to reassure my cousin in case there was an underlying layer of true worry under all the jokes.

“Exactly, Gunni!” Jó pointed his finger almost menacingly at me, or as menacing as he could while still half-smiling. “You’ve been to sleepovers in Akureyri, but this is Reykjavík! This is the big city! It’s a dangerous, dangerous place! It’s full of people ready to make fun of you for not wearing your cutest bear pyjamas! You have to be prepared!”

“I’ll do my best, Mum.” I rolled my eyes, feigning annoyance, but Jó’s face brightened considerably.

“Aw, you think I’m your mummy now! I’m so touched!” Jó wiped imaginary tears off his eyes. “Though this random enforcing of traditional family structure is probably not all that healthy.” Jó’s face became a lot more serious. He thought about his words for a few seconds before completely changing the subject. “I hope you enjoy your weekend. It sounds like a great opportunity to bond with your colleagues.”

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it!”

“Good. Now don’t forget your toothbrush, toothpaste, phone, wallet, hairbrush, hat, scarf, gloves…”

“I think Gunni will remember to get all of those things.” Eiri smiled, amused at his husband’s ability to enumerate an endless list of essentials without missing a beat. “Or do you want to personally check his bag before he walks out of the door?” Eiri raised an eyebrow.

“Rationally, I know I don’t want to be this kind of parent. Emotionally, I want to go with Gunni to the thing and stand in the shadows the whole time to make sure he’s ok.”

“That’s quite…” Eiri started to say, but Tjúlli chose that moment to declare war on the pile of socks neatly arranged on top of my bed. The cat jumped on the pile, scattered the socks, and ran after every single one of them, all the while threatening to attack us if we interfered with his mission. The furry psychopath didn’t let us move a muscle. The whole scene was a lot more terrifying than it sounded.

By the time Tjúlli finally let us move, I was almost late, and so Eiri, Jó, and I just grabbed everything we thought I could potentially need over the weekend, stuffed it all in a bag, and rushed to the car. Not surprisingly, about half of Jó’s list of essentials ended up staying home.

(...)

“Sorry I’m late! We had some unexpected issues with our psycho-cat and…”

“There’s no need to apologise, Gunni, we haven’t started anything yet.” Vác smiled and indicated that I should go inside. His house was quite big. The living room and kitchen area (one single open space), where most of our sleepover party would take place, felt like it was the size of a swimming pool. Its most striking feature was a wall made of glass that gave an astonishing view of the garden and let in plenty of natural light. All the other walls seemed to be covered in windows as well, so the place felt very light, airy, and pleasant.

“You have a really nice house. I like how it has so much light!”

“Thank you, Gunni.” Vác looked away from me, but I still noticed he blushed a little because of my compliment.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed. I know how it feels. It happens to me every time someone says good things about me.” I tried to make him feel better, but as soon as I started to speak, my own cheeks heated up.

“And you would think that after nearly ten years of fame, I would’ve learned to deal with it…” Vác smiled slightly. “I guess some things just don’t go away…” Vác took a deep breath, still smiling to me. “Please make yourself comfortable. We’ll start the movie as soon as I manage to sort out the projector. There’s food and drinks in the fridge, and you can ask me if you need anything else.”

“Ok, thanks, Vác.” We smiled to each other once more, and I turned to the other guests. They were all chatting and laughing in small groups, apart from Siggi, who found a hiding place on a secluded corner and seemed to be enjoying the relative peace and quiet it provided. I quickly spotted Dmitri talking to Davíð, our principal trumpet. My boyfriend had a bottle of vodka in one hand, while his other hand hugged the trumpeter’s waist, dangerously close to more private areas. Davíð did not seem to mind it, though.

“Oh, Gunni! There you are!” Dmitri shouted when he saw me. He immediately let go of Davíð and ran to hug me. “Are you up for spending the whole movie cuddling together? I think I found the perfect spot for us on the couch!”

“Of course I am!” I relaxed in Dmitri’s embrace and kissed his cheek. We moved to the spot he indicated, in case someone else tried to steal it from us, and Dmitri sat sideways with his back to a giant and very comfy-looking cushion. He invited me to sit leaning on him, and once I did I felt so comfortable neither of us wanted to move. I sat with my back leaning against his chest, allowing him to either hug me from behind or play with my hair and kiss the top of my head.

“Ok, guys, we’ll start the movie now!” Vác announced, standing in front of the wall that was going to serve as our screen for the day. “Just before we do, I would like to explain a little more about how I ended up in there. I think you might find the story amusing.” Vác blushed a little. I felt kind of sorry or maybe embarrassed for him, because I knew I would’ve done the same if I was in his place. He spoke mostly in Icelandic, but every now and then he switched to English when he didn’t have enough vocabulary to finish his thoughts. As far as I could tell, it was the way he usually communicated with us. Nobody seemed to mind the language rollercoaster, and so I didn’t either. “It happened completely by chance. I didn’t ask to be in the movie, I didn’t audition for a part, and my character didn’t even exist when they started shooting. I was just a normal secondary school student in a small Czech village. My wildest dream at the time was to go to Prague to study music once I finished school. But then, the movie crew came along to shoot a couple of scenes in my village, and they needed extras to run around in big crowd scenes. My best friend thought it would be fun to go along, and he dragged me with him.”

Vác’s face seemed to become even redder the more he spoke. I felt really sorry for him, and at the same time I wondered how he managed to survive years of big media exposure if he could barely manage to tell his story to a group of friends.

“The scene we were shooting involved the crowd of extras standing behind the main characters while they tried to fend off an attack by the main villains. I was at the front of the crowd. Some kind of disturbance happened somewhere in that mass of people, and the effects travelled to the front in such a way that I ended up being propelled forward by someone a lot bigger and stronger than me. I fell on top of one of the main characters, and I panicked because I was going to ruin the shot, so I said the first thing that came to mind. You’ll see my improvised lines in the movie…”

“You said ‘I won’t let you hurt him! You’ve done enough!’” Karen shouted, smiling proudly at herself. Vác’s face became so red I thought he was going to overheat.

“Yes, that. I really don’t know what made me say that, but the director liked it. She liked me so much she decided there and then that she would have to use me for something. And then she convinced everyone on the production team that it would be a good idea to add an extra character to the story, even though the whole script had been written. So, in order to avoid having to re-work the whole thing, they just created a character that was very much like me, and who had minimal appearances after that improvised scene. All they had to do was create a new short scene of the other characters recruiting me to their team, and from then on I just stuck to the character I had ‘saved’. I became his apprentice, and every now and then got a line or two of dialogue.”

“Oh, no! So we came all the way here to watch a three-hour long movie that you’re only in for five minutes?” Ugla jokingly asked. I was afraid for a moment that Vác would not realise she wasn’t being serious, but he smiled at her.

“Well, when the movie became a hit and they decided to make the TV series, they also decided they liked my character, so from then on I got a lot more screen time, lines, and participation in the plots.” Vác turned on the projector. “And that’s my story. I hadn’t asked to become part of such a big thing, but once it was actually happening I couldn’t stop it. Obviously, I don’t regret any of it now. Everyone on that production team became really good friends, and the guys who played my team members in the story are still very close to me. I’m really looking forward to being together with them again on Monday.”

“You go, Vác! Have the time of your life!” Karen shouted again.

“Yeah, but first put that thing on because that’s what we came here for!” Ugla shouted immediately after Karen. The two women were sitting together in a rather suggestive position (no, I did not want to think about it), and had identical impish grins on their faces.

“I was just getting to that!” Vác hurried to put the movie on and find a place to sit. We all fit on the many couches and armchairs spread around the room, apart from Siggi, who had to lie on cushions on the floor because he was allergic to leather. I felt sad for him, but I knew Siggi wouldn’t appreciate my concern.

I was never much of a movie or TV person. Even as a child I spent most of my free time playing violin, listening to music, or reading about music history and my favourite composers. The few movies I watched were because my friends had guilt-tripped me into going to the cinema with them, or because they had a particularly good soundtrack. So I wasn’t sure what to expect of History Walkers and how much I would actually enjoy it.

The main plot was that time travel became possible in the 25^th century. Immediately following that, people started to try going back to the past to fix their mistakes and change their lives. However, doing so possessed a risk not only of altering the future, but also of destroying the whole world as we knew it. So a giant organisation of specialised time-travellers was created to prevent people from changing the past. This organisation was called History Walkers, and it was so big it had many divisions, squads, and administrative departments. The story of this movie focused on a specific squad of time-travellers responsible to keep history books accurate from 1500 to 2000 AC. This squad was formed by a high-ranking middle-aged man, a high-ranking middle aged woman, and nine lower-ranking, considerably younger people. Vác was one of them, and the others looked not much older than him. Most of them were probably still teenagers when the movie was shot.

The first hour of the movie was spent explaining the story’s universe and showing how each of the younger squad members was recruited. This was followed by two hours of history lessons mixed with giant explosions, witty dialogue, and a heavily implied message that, although we cannot change the past, we can still shape the future into a better place. For me, the dialogue was the best part of the movie. All the characters (even Vác) engaged in plenty of witty banter, amusing one-liners, and unexpected jokes, even when the most dramatic battle scenes were going on. This kept the movie entertaining for me, and made me curious to see what the TV series would be like.

(...)

Vác advised us to use the bathroom and grab some food before we started watching the first season of the TV show. The plan was to watch the whole season, then have a little pyjama party and go to bed. On Sunday we would watch the remaining two seasons. History Walkers was made for British TV (even though it had a very international main cast), which meant each season consisted of six one-hour episodes.

The TV series did a good job of fleshing out the main characters more. Not only did Vác get more screen time, but some other interesting characters got more attention too. I was particularly drawn to Lupo, a young, energetic guy who got most of the funny dialogue. His backstory was that he had been gravely injured during a battle for Italian independence in 1859 and rescued by Fritz, the crew member who also served as a doctor. Because of that, Lupo and Fritz’s relationship became one of the most compelling aspects of the first season’s plot. A lot of their interaction seemed to imply they cared for each other as more than friends and brothers-in-arms. Thus, when the last episode showed Lupo and Fritz’s passionate kiss after the season’s final big battle, our little audience celebrated quite loudly.

It might have been a bit of a cliché that Lupo woke up in a hospital bed after having destroyed half of the enemy’s army in one single berserk-style blow, with Doctor Fritz standing by his side in obvious concern. Lupo remembered nothing of his violent onslaught, and the fact that he had killed so many people at once made him really upset (that was one of the reasons I liked the character so much). Fritz then tried to make him feel better, they confessed their feelings for each other, and then kissed while Lupo was still sitting in the hospital bed. This was followed by some other wrapping-up scenes, but nobody really paid attention to them. We were all distracted talking about how cute and romantic the kiss had been.

(...)

The pyjama party started on a rather embarrassing note. Dmitri decided he didn’t want to wait for the queue to the bathroom, and stripped in front of everyone. Most people followed his lead, and soon Vác’s living room was full of people in their underwear standing in front of a glass wall while all the lights were on. I did my best to not look at them, and ran to the bathroom to get changed in private on the first chance I got.

“Did you like the movie and the series, Gunni?” Vác asked me at the party. Most of the guests (including Dmitri) were already drunk and flirting, kissing, or complimenting people’s pyjamas in weirdly suggestive ways. It was as if the party had become a wild horny room where everyone was preparing for a giant orgy. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place for me, but I found it strange that our host didn’t seem too enthusiastic about it either. Vác noticed I wasn’t engaging in the free-for-all flirting and invited me to chat in his room, away from the chaos.

“I did. It was quite entertaining,” I answered, smiling at him and feeling grateful for his offer of quietness. “I liked Lupo a lot.”

“I think he’s most people’s favourite…” Vác laughed. He didn’t seem surprised at all. “The actor who played him used to be my closest friend while we were shooting. We were the same age, born just a couple of months apart, and he was the only other guy in there who failed spectacularly in P.E. I think we immediately bonded over that.” We both laughed.

“If I was there, it would’ve been three of us.” I noted. I never really liked P.E. much, though I wasn’t particularly bad at it. I was probably average, but unfortunately I had been put in a class where everyone else loved P.E. and was very good at it, so in comparison I sucked.

“We do seem to have a lot in common,” Vác said, becoming slightly more serious. “I’ve wanted to chat with you for a while now, actually. This whole mess with you and Dmitri brought back some horrible memories.”

“You had trouble with newspapers too?” I asked, feeling sorry for Vác’s experience, but also grateful that he was willing to talk to me about it.

“Plenty. I got everything from ‘The-Reason-You-Suck’ speech to claims that I had somehow blackmailed the director into including me in the story because I was really greedy and desperate for an opportunity to become famous.”

“That’s horrible.”

“During those three years when the TV series was on, I got reporters and paparazzi following me around all the time. Everything I did appeared in gossip magazines. I was invited to more talk shows than I can count, sometimes on my own, sometimes with my friends.” Vác looked suddenly very tired. “I don’t really miss any of that.”

“Is that why you gave up being an actor?”

“That, and the fact that I wanted to be a musician ever since I was a child. Being in History Walkers was a great experience and I learned a lot from it, but I knew it wasn’t what I wanted for my life. When our contract ended, some of us decided to take a break from fame and finish our studies properly. I entered a conservatoire in the UK with João, the bassoonist who played with us on the New Year concert, and Luca, the guy who played Lupo. João and I went for music, and Luca did drama. Everyone asked why Luca still bothered with a drama degree, the reporters had a field day when he announced his plans, but Luca wanted to work in operas and musicals, so he was actually doing something different. Still, the reporters didn’t leave him alone until he was halfway through his course.”

“Ouch.”

“And Roderich, the guy who played Fritz, stayed with us as well, though he went to a different university to study medicine. It’s kind of fitting that the guy who played the crew’s doctor wanted to be a real-life one all along. I think nowadays he’s a neurosurgeon. The people putting together this special episode had a really hard time getting him to come.”

“Wow, that sounds really cool.” My mouth hung open for a while. I had never heard of famous celebrities with such a change in their careers.

“Yeah, it is. I don’t know if you could tell, but Luca and Roderich were actually dating when they filmed the kiss.”

“Really?” My jaw distended a bit more. Vác’s story kept surprising me. “I thought the chemistry between them was just really good acting.”

“No, not really.” Vác laughed at my surprise. He seemed really amused. “Luca and Roderich had something going since they first met on the movie set. They instantly liked each other, but didn’t realise what those feelings were until we were shooting the first TV series. The director realised what was going on, and told the writers to give Lupo and Fritz a similar relationship on screen. It worked really well because Luca and Roderich had that natural chemistry. Roderich finally asked Luca out on the day we finished shooting the third episode. And they’re still together to this day.”

“This is such a nice story… It’s even better than the one in the series!” I liked to hear about people who fell in love and had happy lives together. I thought I could relate to this kind of feeling more than I could relate to sexual attraction to others, so it always made me happy to hear about a couple in love without any sexual context.

“Luca realised he was in love with Roderich before Roderich realised his own feelings. I was Luca’s best friend at the time, apart from his love interest obviously, so he confided in me a lot of his feelings. And by doing that, he actually helped me as much as he helped himself.”

“What do you mean?” I asked Vác. He looked more serious and contemplative.

“In a way, it was listening to Luca’s confessions about his love for Roderich that I learned a lot about who I was.” Vác smiled slightly, like he was thinking of very pleasant memories. “You see, all the young guys who made up the main cast were between the ages of fifteen and eighteen when we started filming the movie. So I got to spend a lot of time with teenage guys who, for better or for worse, were beginning to discover their sexualities. Most of the stuff they talked about involved sex in one way or another, but I didn’t see why they found it so interesting. At first I thought I just hadn’t reached that stage of puberty yet, and I tried to join in the conversations even though I really, really had no curiosity about what it would be like to have sex with someone.”

“I can relate to that.” To my surprise, Vác had just described how I felt when my friends from Akureyri (or my boyfriend, or anyone, really) talked about sex, though nowadays this feeling also came with worries about whether there could be something wrong with me for having such lack of sex drive. Hearing Vác describing my experience so nearly perfectly was quite reassuring in that aspect.

“But then, when Luca spent hours talking and crying on my shoulder about how his love for Roderich was such that it almost hurt, and how he fantasised about having a big family with him, living in a lovely home, and in general just doing all the heartwarming things that couples do, I realised that that was something I wanted too. I wanted a loving relationship. I wanted to fall in love with someone, to be that intimate and close to someone who loved and respected me back. I wanted a romantic relationship, I just didn’t want the sex that was assumed to come with it.”

“That’s… that’s exactly how I feel.” The more Vác spoke, the more I identified with his words. I really liked the relationship I had with Dmitri. The cuddles, kisses, and hugs were all I could ask for. It was perfect. I didn’t feel ready for anything else. Or maybe I didn’t want anything else.

“Is it, really? You mean, like you feel with Dmitri?” Vác asked.

I nodded. “Yes. I really like cuddling with Dmitri and hugging him, but I never felt like I wanted to… you know…” I felt kind of embarrassed to talk about my lack of sex life with Vác, even though he seemed to have no problem discussing the topic. But it was the first time that I heard someone having an experience that was so similar to mine, so I couldn’t miss the opportunity. I had to make an effort. “And I always thought it was because I’m still young and not ready for it.”

“Well, I felt that way when I was sixteen, and I still feel that way at twenty-five. If it’s about being young and inexperienced, I should be a bit past that by now.” Vác smiled slightly.

“But how do you really know for sure? Do you have a partner?”

“I do, actually. I have a girlfriend. She lives in Japan and we see each other just a few times a year, but I love her to bits. And still the thought of having sex with her doesn’t do anything for me.”

“So it might not be a phase?” I asked, feeling conflicting emotions bubble up inside me. On one hand, I was still relieved that someone else shared my experiences, but on the other hand, I was terrified of my prospects if I was really like Vác. “I could stay this way forever?”

“Maybe. It’s a possibility.” Vác’s voice was gentle, but the fear kept growing inside me.

“Does that mean there’s something wrong with me?” I couldn’t look at Vác anymore, as if looking at him meant facing some horrible truth I didn’t want to see.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Vác put a hand on my shoulder. “Not wanting sex is just as valid as an identity as wanting to have sex with people of other genders, or wanting to have sex with people of the same gender, or wanting to have sex with people of all or multiple genders. I’m asexual, and it’s as natural to me as it is for Dmitri to be gay. It’s just the way thing are, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Asexual? Is that what it’s called?” I still didn’t want to face Vác, but his words were slowly bringing me some reassurance.

“Yes. That’s the general name for people who feel no sexual attraction to others.”

“Is it really… real?” As much as I wanted to feel glad that there was a word to describe my feelings towards sex, there was still a part of me that refused to believe it was something normal. Sex seemed to be such an important part of everyone’s life, how could it be ok to not care about it?

“Yes, it is. I promise.”

“You really don’t feel like doing it at all? Really?”

“Yes, really.” I had to be grateful that Vác was being so patient with me. He didn’t seem angry that I was questioning his story, or that I was having trouble believing the things he was telling me.

“Do you think I could be asexual, then?” I asked, finally looking at him. I still couldn’t decide if I wanted him to answer ‘yes’, but my internal emotional struggle was beginning to calm down.

“You could be.” Vác shrugged slightly and smiled. “I can’t answer this question for sure because only you can say who you really are, but it’s something worth considering. If you’re not sure because you think you’re too young and inexperienced, nobody is going to force you to call yourself asexual. It’s really your choice.”

“But if I turn out to really be like you, what’s going to happen to my relationship with Dmitri? Do you think he’ll hate me?” Little by little I was learning to accept that asexuality was a valid form of sexuality, at least on a very superficial level of my brain. But just as one kind of reassurance kicked in, another set of worries grew.

“I don’t see why he would hate you. He already knows I’m asexual and he respects that. There’s no reason for him to be different with you.” Vác tried to reassure me as best as could.

“But I’m his boyfriend. We were supposed to be having sex on a regular basis.” I no longer cared that Vác was getting to know a little too much about our private life. He was probably the only person I would ever be able to talk to about my worries. I had to do it.

“And has he told you he wants to have sex with you on a regular basis? Is he the one telling you that that’s what you have to do?”

“No, but…”

Vác didn’t let me finish. “Then he’s already fine with the way your relationship works now. Nothing will change.”

“But that’s the problem. Nothing will change. Dmitri is waiting for when I tell him I’m ready for sex, but if I’m never going to be ready, then I’m just wasting his time!”

Vác hugged me on impulse. The thought that Dmitri would leave me as soon as he found out I would never want sex scared me a lot, and Vác saw that. “But didn’t you say that the cuddles and hugs are already perfect? Dmitri could think that way too, and expect nothing else from you because you already make him very happy.”

“I don’t know…”

“You’ll have to talk to him about it. For me, it sounds like you’re assuming that your boyfriend doesn’t like the way things are now, or that he’ll eventually get tired of it. Being in a relationship with someone so sexual can be a challenge, but you seem to have it covered already by allowing Dmitri to have other relationships. There shouldn’t really be anything for you to worry about.” Vác let go of me, but kept looking at me in the eye. “Maybe the best thing to do now is getting to know more about asexuality and whether it really fits you. Think about it over the next couple of days, do some internet research, and only then worry about what Dmitri will think of it. I really think you’ll be worrying for nothing, but I know it’s hard to simply push those feelings aside.”

“Thanks a lot, Vác. I wasn’t expecting us to have that kind of talk during a pyjama party, but…” I hugged Vác just as my cheeks begin to heat up.

“I wasn’t expecting it either, but I hope I was able to help in some way.” Vác hugged me back, and I felt a bit more at ease.

“I’ll do like you said and think about it for a while. My record of figuring out my own sexuality is not the best one, but I’ll try. At least now I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. I guess it helps.”

“Good. If you ever want to talk again, you know where to find me. I’ll do my best to help.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t feel like letting go of Vác for a very long time. I really liked this kind of close personal contact, even if it was not in a romantic context. Hugs were always reassuring to me, no matter who gave them. Vác didn’t try to move away until I decided to break the hug. It was nice to be with him in the quiet of his room, just feeling our bodies touching while my mind considered everything he told me.

When we finally left him room, the pyjama party was still going strong. Dmitri was snogging Davíð against the glass wall, Karen and Ugla had their hands up each other’s bras right in the middle of the room, and a group of five played a game that seemed to consist of slapping each other’s butts with a wet pyjama shirt. Vác and I exchanged amused glances before our host tried to announce that it was time to go to bed. Nobody heard him, though, because he was too shy to raise his voice properly. After a couple more unsuccessful tries, Vác found Siggi sulking in a corner and asked him to help call an end to the party. Two minutes later, everyone had formed an orderly queue to use the bathroom one more time before going to sleep. I stood in the queue for ten minutes before realising I had forgotten my toothbrush and toothpaste at home. It was mildly embarrassing, particularly considering how much time Jó had spent making sure I had everything I needed for the sleepover. I ended up brushing my teeth with my finger and some borrowed toothpaste.

Dmitri and I slept together, with him spooning me. Before I fell asleep, my last thoughts were that our cuddles really were all I needed. The close body contact made me feel safe and happy, and a stream of good dreams followed, at least until the alarm awoke us all much earlier than we would’ve liked.