Eli Borrelli

40: What happened in Finland

Eli POV.

The last few days had been very busy. I got myself a manager, an agent, and a deal with a recording studio. My agent has been setting up interviews and shows so much, that I was starting to lose track of them all.

My brothers were really supportive. They always made sure, that I was doing what I wanted and not working myself too much. My eldest brothers worked with my manager and agent about my schedule, but mainly, they let me do my thing as long as I was going to school, eating, and sleeping well.

I hadn't told my friends about the whole, I'm nominated for seven Grammys, thing yet, but I think I probably should. Jess, however, was absolutely amazing. We went out a lot and she supported me even more than my brothers if that was possible. 

Diego would go on and on about how lovely Ida was, in our daily chats. He told me about his new school and the arts program there. 

"I don't think I ever really thanked you for teaching me," Diego said one night.

I smiled at the screen remembering all the times, Diego yawned or rolled his eyes at me trying to teach him the most basic things.

"I mean, I never really thought I would be able to go to school, so it always felt useless, but I know how important it was for you. You always wanted me to have a chance at a normal life," Diego said, tears glossing up his brown eyes.

"You're my little brother. I wanted to give you the world. Or at least a chance to take it yourself," I said with a warm smile.

"How the hell did you put up with me?" Diego laughed.

"I have no idea. You were a fucking monster," I chuckled.

"You don't probably even remember, but one time, you actually threw a lamp at me, because you didn't want to learn math," I laughed with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I remember, and I'd do it again. Math can fucking suck my dick," Diego said completely serious.

I started working with Mark in therapy, and he ended up being really nice. He understood the things I had gone through without me having to explain everything, and somehow, he was always able to ask the right questions. I felt understood when I walked through his doors, and I guess, that's what therapy can be at its best.

"I see you're still wearing a cross around your neck, even with the things, that happened to you," Mark pointed out.

He was right. I had worn that same silver cross since I was fifteen. 

"My relationship with religion is pretty fucking complicated, to say the least, but still... it feels right," I said trying to find the words.

"I mean, religion and faith is something, that has been used against me for as long as I can remember, but still, I find myself being drawn to it," I explained.

"Why do you think that is?" Mark asked furrowing his eyebrows. I could tell he was actually interested.

"In Finland, where I ran to, I found this community, that took me in. In the town I moved to after my suicide attempt, there was a huge religious festival, but it was this specific... part of the Lutheran church, and they were really understanding. They even had this thing for gay people, where they talked about the challenges we have and how God loves us. It was really beautiful, and after the four days, I bought myself a cross, to remember it," I tried to explain.