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Chapter Text

Part One

Beau sees Sweden’s performance for the first time from her couch in Sydney. She opens YouTube immediately after receiving the confirmation that she and Dairon are going to make the trip to Stockholm for the upcoming Eurovision Song Contest, and is set on scouting out the competitors ahead of time.

Beau is not a huge fan of metal, although she can recognize good musicians and good art when she hears them.

And the Orphanmakers , albeit creepy looking and not someone Beau would like to hang around with, are really fucking good.

Beau bites her nails as she replays the video from the Melodifestivalen account, the Swedish TV shows used to select the competitors for Eurovision, and her eyes follow the main singer as she moves through the stage, successfully capturing everyone’s attention.

Beau doesn’t only like to observe good talent, and this woman has a lot of it, but she is also irremediably gay for tall women who look like they could kill her.

Beau decides that she can get behind the song, with its lyrics talking about power, control, and finding freedom through good and bad choices. It’s not a masterpiece in any way, but it’s a good selection for Eurovision.

After queuing a couple more countries to try and figure out who the rest of Europe is going to be bringing, Beau opens Google and finds a bit more information about the Orphanmakers .

What she looks for is a very specific name, and when she finds it, she lets it roll on her tongue to savor it.

“Yasha.” she murmurs to her empty apartment. “Yasha Nydoorin.”

Beau finds out Italy’s singer is her first and only boyfriend, Tony, and slams her computer shut.

She perches up on the office chair, fully knowing it drives Zeenoth absolutely insane, and ignores the reprimanding gaze Dairon is throwing her way.

Beau grabs the magazine that’s sitting right in front of them on the desk, and studies the face on the cover.

Yasha Nydoorin, standing with her arms crossed and a microphone clutched in her right hand, stares back at her with an empty gaze.

The high quality photo does things to Beau. It’s not like she hasn’t plucked the internet for pictures in the past two months, but this is a whole different level of hot.

Yasha is wearing a black leather jacket on top of a grey tank top, black ripped skinny jeans and black Doc Martens.

Her make up, although less dark and less intense than her performance make up, still gives the woman a mysterious vibe.

Beau looks at Yasha’s different colored eyes and reaches blindly for her Starbucks, downing a gulp as she finally opens the magazine to look for more pictures.

Zeenoth yanks the paper from her hands and Beau nearly growls at him.

“Focus.” he tells her, smug satisfaction painted all over his face. “You guys are leaving in a month, and you two seem more excited to go on a tourist trip than to participate in the actual competition.”

“Eurovision doesn’t even want us there.” Beau mutters. “I don’t think it’s going to be a huge deal if we suck. They’re probably going to be grateful if we do.”

Beau throws a glance at Dairon, who raises an eyebrow in Zeenoth’s direction.

“We will be just fine, Zeenoth.” They comment, calm and collected. They look much more put together than Beau ever will be. “Do not forget who put you in charge.”

Zeenoth visibly pales.

“I hired you. You are good. But replaceable.” Dairon continues. “I appreciate your concern, but Beauregard and I will be just fine.”

Beau grins at Zeenoth, a satisfied, slap worthy expression growing on her face, and Zeenoth avoids her gaze.

“Yes, Dairon. Of course.” he murmurs, and that’s the end of it.

On the plane to Stockholm, Beau stares at her dear old Sydney as it fades away, farther and farther from her window.

She clutches the arm rest and closes the blinds.

A warm hand settles on her wrist for a few seconds, and Beau turns to look at Dairon.

“You should be proud of yourself for getting where you are now.” Dairon tells her. “I know I am.”

Beau smiles a little and nods.

Dairon crosses their arms back on their chest and falls asleep in an instant.

Beau finds Jester at the hotel where they are staying, already trying to charm the bartender with a series of absolutely ridiculous and unfortunately true stories.

“Are you going to make the whole of Stockholm fall in love with you?” Beau asks as a hello, and Jester whirls around and throws her arms around her neck with a screech.

“BEAU!”

Beau chuckles, pressing a kiss to Jester’s forehead. There was a time when she thought she’d loved Jester more than a friend, but she knows now that it’s a thing of the past.

Jester is in a happy relationship with Fjord, a common friend of theirs, and Beau has never been happier for her best friend.

“Excuse you, I’m going to make all of Europe fall in love with me!” Jester giggles, and Beau has no doubt this is true.

“That’s fair.” she says, as she flags down the bartender for a drink.

Around them, people with suitcases and massive bags are touring the hotel, stopping at the bar for a refreshment or a snack.

Beau notices a grumpy looking redheaded guy reading quietly as his two band-mates chat amiably amongst themselves in one of the booths to their left.

She elbows Jester and gestures to the group.

“What do we know about Germany?” she whispers.

Jester doesn’t even have to look up to see where Beau is pointing before she has an answer.

“Caleb Widogast, main voice. Rumors in the streets? He left the band like, the day before they got called for Eurovision, and now he’s sticking around just for his friends. Apparently, their manager is a dick. And not the fun kind.”

Beau smirks at the last comment but doesn’t say a thing.

She accepts her drink from the bartender and keeps studying the room.

“Ireland?” she murmurs, almost to herself, as two identical looking people step through the door. She is fairly certain they’re the Irish group.

“Lucien and Mollymauk Tealeaf.” Jester responds immediately, turning to wave at the two. Only one responds, whereas the other scoffs and walks away. “Twins. The one with loads of tattoos is Molly, the other mean-looking guy is Lucien. No one can tell whether they love each other or hate each other.”

Beau groans, noticing how the one named Molly seems to have decided to join them, as they walk closer to the bar.

Jester giggles again, pulling a stool out for their new friend.

“Who else?” she asks as they wait for Molly. She slurps her drink directly from the straw, and Beau smiles as she notices she is drinking what looks like simple warm milk.

“UK.” Beau mutters despite herself. She’s only seen one or two videos from the group called Vox Machina , but they don’t seem to be the kind of people to hang with paparazzi all that much.

Jester hums.

“Very interesting people. Fan favorites, at the moment, which is incredible, considering how much people still hate the UK.”

“And for a good reason.” The person named Molly adds as they take a seat next to Jester.

Beau narrows her eyes at them and Molly gives her the finger.

“Dick.” she spits out.

“Asshole.” they respond, calmly.

Jester laughs.

“Nice to meet you! My name is Jester!” she chimes in, extending a hand towards the newcomer. Molly shakes her hand and then presses a kiss on Jester’s knuckles, making her giggle.

“And who is your annoying friend?”

“Beauregard.” Beau says, refusing to give her hand to Molly, who seems delighted she decides as much.

“Oh, Czech Republic and Australia.” they smirk. “I am glad I have found myself with groups that will never win.”

Beau can’t tell whether they’re being sarcastic or not, but it actually seems like they aren’t.

Jester certainly seems to decide that as well, because she continues the conversation like nothing happened.

“Regardless, Vox Machina has great musicians and good looks. Fans love them.”

Molly raises an eyebrow at Jester.

“You’ve got the gossip?”

“She’s got all the gossip.” Beau supplies, sipping at her drink. “Literally anything you could ever want to know about anyone, Jester knows it.”

Jester nods, proud of herself, and Molly cackles.

“Alright, then.” they say. “Let’s test it out. Croatia.”

Jester swallows her drink and twirls around in her chair.

She finds who she’s looking for and gestures to them.

“ The Dynasty . Lead vocalist’s name is Essek Thelyss. Cute, and very gay, in case you’re interested.”

Molly barks out a laugh.

“Not one for a commitment, I’m afraid.” They comment. “He also seems more interested in that guy from the Assembly band.”

Jester snaps her fingers in agreement.

“Alright.” Molly continues. “Italy.”

“Beau’s ex, Tony.” Jester says before Beau can stop her. “An asshole.”

Molly tilts his head to look at Beau.

“I wouldn’t have said.” they comment, and Beau grimaces.

“It was a phase. A very short one.” she grits through her teeth. “I was thirteen, it was summer camp, and I have not been with a man ever since.”

Molly seems satisfied by her answer and, to Beau’s surprise, they don’t add to it.

“France?”

“Fjord’s ex, Avantika, with the Uk’otoa .” Jester says, showing a hint of annoyance for the first time since the beginning of the conversation.

Beau pats her on a shoulder.

“Fjord is Jester’s boyfriend.” she shouts-whispers to Molly, who opens their mouth and nods.

Jester is quick to move on from the whole ordeal, and straightens herself up.

She claps her hands and turns around to look at Beau.

“Anyway! We have a much more important love affair we should be worried about, this year.”

Beau sees the manic look in Jester’s eyes and immediately understands.

She groans.

“Jessie, no… ”

“You promised!”

“I didn’t think you were serious about it!”

“If I can’t parent trap my own parents, the least I can do is play cupid with the person Mama fell in love with twenty years ago!”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, Jester.”

Molly clears their voice, and both Beau and Jester turn to look at them and their growing smirk.

“I must say, I am curious to know what the hell you two are talking about.”

Jester raises an eyebrow at Beau, who vaguely gestures her approval, and Jester grins.

She turns to fully face Molly and leans closer to them, conspiratorially whispering the story.

“My mama and Beau’s mentor and band mate, Dairon, met at Eurovision in Zagreb some twenty years ago, or so. Mama was fresh off a nasty break up with my dad, and she and Dairon had a wonderful time together. Then Eurovision ended, Dairon moved to Australia, gained Citizenship, and they lost contact after a while. I know that Mama kept all the letters they exchanged for the first year or so.”

Despite herself, Beau leans in, heart clenching at the idea that her mentor never really entered any relationship for the whole time Beau has known them.

She knows that Dairon still keeps those letters as well, although they are not very keen to talk about the past with Marion Lavorre.

“Anyway. This year they’re both here. Mama is my manager, and Dairon plays with Beau. It’s the perfect chance to reunite them.”

Molly seems intrigued as well.

“Do you know what happened between them?”

Jester shrugs, sadly.

“No clue.”

Molly throws a glance at Beau, and she shakes her head.

“No idea either. Dairon tries to avoid the conversation every time I bring it up. I know they are trying their very best to not cross Marion’s path at all, this year.”

Jester sucks the last drops of her milk and hums.

“Which is why we are going to parent trap them.” she concludes; and then, to Beau’s horror and Molly’s delight: “Mollymauk, would you like to join us?”

Beau lets herself fall flat on her queen size bed.

She has a week to herself before the semi finals, and she knows some of that will have to be focused around the competition and the semi final, but she cannot wait to set foot in the city and actually explore it.

In that short time in the lobby, Jester has managed to befriend a few other competitors: Caleb from Germany and his friend Veth and Essek Theyliss from Croatia.

Molly has promised to convince their own manager, Caduceus Clay, to join the group as well, and Beau has promised to do her best not to punch anyone she might not like.

So now Beau finds herself with a new group chat and a gif war already started between Jester and Molly, and the prospect of a full week of touristic activities in front of her.

Despite it all, she finds herself quite excited at the idea.

She never made friends easily, Jester being the clear and obvious exception, and she is looking forward to meeting a few new people she can learn things from.

Dairon’s bed is empty, and it remains empty until late at night, when Beau hears them coming back. They stumble awkwardly and drunkenly through the door and Beau almost gets up to help them.

She lays still, waiting for them to shower and crash in the adjacent bed, before speaking up.

“Everything alright?” she murmurs in the darkness of the room.

Dairon grunts, rolls around and doesn’t respond.

Beau sighs and closes her eyes.

They all meet just outside the hotel, the following morning.

Beau sneaks out of her hotel room with a water bottle, a blanket, wallet and phone inside her backpack, throws a glance at an already awake Dairon, working on their laptop, then jumps down the stairs to avoid the crowded elevators.

Once she makes it outside, Jester greets her and introduces her to Caleb, Veth, Essek and Caduceus.

Beau hugs Fjord briefly, happy to see him again, and shakes her hand awkwardly with the rest.

“Watcha reading?” she asks Caleb, pointing at the book in his hand.

“The Silmarillion.” he says, curtly, with his heavily accented voice sounding almost surprised.

Beau raises an eyebrow.

“First time?” she challenges. Gods know she loves a good J.R.R.Tolkien fan.

“Seventh.” he counters, a small smile starting to grow on his lips.

The rest of the group is staring at them, but Beau presses just a bit forward.

“Revised version or unedited?” she asks.

Caleb scoffs.

“Who do you think I am?” he clicks his tongue. “Original version.”

Beau openly laughs, smacking her hand on Caleb’s shoulder.

Caleb winces and stumbles, but the smile doesn’t falter.

“We’re gonna be great friends, you and I.” Beau says, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulders.

Jester shakes her head with an exasperated but happy smile, and her phone chimes.

“Oh! It’s Molly! They said they’re coming down now, they stopped to see if a friend wanted to join us.”

“More people?” Beau groans, earning herself a glare from Veth. “And Molly’s friend? I can’t stand to have more people like them around.”

Essek looks a bit taken aback by her comment, while Fjord, Jester and apparently Caleb, clue in on the fact that Beau is not all that serious and simply ignore her.

“Did they say whether their twin is joining us?” Fjord asks Jester, a bit apprehensively.

Jester shrugs, but even she grimaces.

“Dunno. Hope not. The guy gives me the creeps.”

“Same.”

“Me, too.”

“Yeah.”

They all echo, all of them finally agreeing for the first time on something.

As much as Beau complains about Mollymauk Tealeaf, she would take them over their twin any day of the week. She’s met the guy a couple times only, and he’s an absolute dick.

And speaking of the literal devil -or, well, his twin- Mollymauk pushes the door of the hotel open, sauntering outside and holding the handle to allow another person to walk through it.

Beau’s heart jumps in her throat, backflips in her mouth and then lands flat with a splat at the bottom of her stomach.

Yasha Nydoorin awkwardly waves at the group, her other hand nervously shoved inside the front pocket of her black jeans.

There’s a cacophony of uncertain hellos and “How do you do”s, and Beau can’t move.

Yasha is even more stunning in person than she is on YouTube. Or on the cover of a magazine.

Which says a lot, really, considering how much airbrush they use in those pictures.

There’s something about the real Yasha that makes Beau’s heart skip a beat.

She’s not exactly sure what it is, but it doesn’t really matter.

Molly is introducing her to the group as their “sister from another mister”, casually mentioning having known Yasha since their gap year they took five years ago.

Of course Yasha is the best friend of the most annoying person who ever walked the earth.

Beau has zero chances.

Yasha shyly accepts Jester’s welcoming hug, and nods at each and everyone of them as Mollymauk introduces them.

“And the unpleasant looking one is Beauregard Lionett...”

“It’s just Beau.” she corrects immediately, tensing under Yasha’s gaze.

“...Who you can just ignore and forget exists, because fuck her.”

“Fuck you, too, Molly.”

“No, thank you.”

Beau is just about ready to flip him the finger, when Yasha speaks up for the first time.

“I saw your performance at the Australia Decides show.” she says, softly, much softer than Beau would ever expect, considering what her singing voice is like. “You are very quick with your fingers.”

Jester snorts, and Molly turns to look at a quickly flushing Yasha with a bewildered expression.

“I can do much more than play a guitar, with my fingers.” Beau blurts out before she can contain herself.

The whole group groans and Fjord shakes his head, defeated.

Beau grins, her heart skipping a beat when she notices Yasha is not put off by her stupid joke, but is instead sporting the smallest of smiles.

“Are we going or not?” Jester chimes in, breaking everyone from their reverie, and effectively setting the day into motion.

From their district, they take the transit straight to the ABBA Museum.

It’s a stop they all agree to make, and it’s not a surprise to anybody that they’d all planned to go regardless.

ABBA had been such a massive part of Eurovision history, as well as popular music in general, and Beau has known she’d wanted to visit the place since the day she received the invitation for the Song Contest.

They get to know one another during the short trip, with Jester carrying the great majority of the conversations, and Beau doesn’t really bring much to the table except for a couple well placed, embarrassing jokes.

Molly groans at her every time, but Beau is learning to tune them out.

Fjord snickers and shakes his head, and one of the jokes actually makes Caleb laugh, but Beau’s focus remains on Yasha.

Yasha doesn’t talk at all, preferring to sit back on the bus and observe everyone else around her, and Beau catches herself staring at a few different occasions.

Yasha doesn’t look at her again, and when the bus stops in front of the museum, Jester drags her out before Beau can realize what’s happening.

The museum is nothing and everything like Beau had hoped for. There are mannequins and art installations, there is music and there are video testimonials of who ABBA were and what they brought to the world.

Their group is big and chaotic, and several tourists throw a number of disapproving glances their way, but Beau realizes none of her companions seem to care.

She enjoys the darker rooms the better, having the chance to stop and read every single sign without having to justify herself or rush to catch up with the group.

After the first hour, though, she stops caring.

Caleb is also trying to read everything he can, and he and Essek exchange opinions over this or that piece.

The rest of the group slowly moves forward, leaving Beau, Caleb and Essek behind.

Beau is so engrossed in her reading, that she almost doesn’t realize Caleb and Essek have already gone past her to the next room.

As she scratches her shoulder right where the lace of her backpack presses against bare skin, Beau catches a glimpse of white out of the corner of her eyes.

Yasha, standing a few feet away from her, is pulling her long, white hair into a ponytail using distracted, quick movements.

Her whole focus is on the four wax statues of the members of ABBA, dressed head to toe in what Beau recognizes as their Eurovision Grand Finale winning performance outfit.

Beau looks to the door, where their group has disappeared, then back at Yasha.

“There’s your chance, Beauregard.” she mutters to herself. “Don’t be a dick.”

She casually approaches Yasha, who briefly turns to look at her before focusing back on the wax statues.

Her face is unreadable, emotionless.

But Beau has always read bodies better than faces and words anyway, and she notices how tense Yasha looks.

“Everything okay?” she asks, as soon as she’s close enough.

Yasha shrugs. Her hands dive into her front pockets.

She doesn’t have a backpack, nor a jacket, like the great majority of them.

Yasha is a local, and all she wears is a pair of black jeans, a tank top and a grey and white flannel tied around her waist.

Beau has never been more attracted to arms in her life.

“It’s just a lot.” Yasha replies after a while.

Beau frowns, following her gaze to look at the statues.

“ABBA?” she blurts out, more confused than anything.

She probably doesn’t sound very gentle or polite, but she never has been anyway. Yasha doesn’t seem to mind.

She makes a small noise of confirmation.

“Why?” Beau asks.

Yasha shrugs again.

“It’s a lot to live up to.”

Oh.

Oh .

Of course.

“‘Cause they won Eurovision and all that shit?” Beau asks again, standing right next to Yasha and observing those faces. Faces of people who made the history of music.

“Yeah. All that shit.” Yasha repeats, lost in her own thoughts. “There is a lot of pressure on this competition, since last year’s win. People expect a lot from me.”

Beau can understand unrealistically high expectations better than anyone.

“I know what you mean.” she says, trying to sound comforting, but resulting more bitter instead.

Yasha looks briefly at her.

“You do?”

Beau shuffles, shifting her body weight from one leg to the other.

“Yeah, man. Dairon won Eurovision twenty years ago. Now they’re back, with a banger of a song, and a different flag. People expect them to be amazing, and they expect me to be on their level.”

Beau mirrors Yasha’s position, her hands in her pockets.

“That, and my family always saying I was worth less than shit. It can get heavy. I get it.”

When Beau looks back at Yasha, she finds her staring at her already.

“You do.” Yasha says, and there’s a hint of relief in her voice.

Beau smiles, although a bit unsure, and Yasha smiles back.

“Dairon has a great voice.” Yasha says, and Beau feels her shoulder tensing immediately, before Yasha adds: “But I prefer yours.”

Beau ducks her head, scratching the bridge of her nose to hide what is possibly the hardest she’s ever blushed, and chuckles.

“Uh. Yeah. Thanks.”

Yasha doesn’t respond, and for a long moment it’s just the two of them in this dark, empty room, staring up at the statues of people who left an important legacy for them to match.

They remain inside the ABBA Museum for the great majority of the morning, leaving only at half past noon.

Molly and Caduceus receive a phone call from Lucien as they are trying to decide what to do with their afternoon, and they grumpily turn towards all of them.

Molly’s eyes, Beau notices, are mainly trained on Yasha. There is worry on Mollymauk’s face, and they do nothing to hide it.

But Yasha places a hand on Molly’s arm and nods at him.

“I’m going to be okay.” she tells him, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Molly nods, clearly not fully convinced, before waving at everyone, flipping the bird at Beauregard and leaving with their manager.

The conversation picks up almost immediately after that, and Beau plays with the laces of her backpack, not really wanting to leave the group but also not feeling like going to the VASA Museum, like Fjord is suggesting.

She is interested in the place, of course, but she had hoped to take a look at a different museum today.

She doesn’t say anything, and when they all nod in agreement and start walking back to the bus that is going to take them North, Beau follows.

Yasha tags along, and it’s almost unnoticeable the way she slows her steps to match them with Beau’s. Then, after a few feet, she starts to fall back even more. Beau frowns, and slows her pace as well.

“You don’t seem very thrilled.” Yasha points out, once they have put a bit of distance between them and the group.

“Oh.” Beau comments, almost surprised. Jester’s enthusiasm generally obfuscates everything else. People are often very eager to please her, almost not noticing when someone else is not all in with her plans. Beau is used to it, and she normally doesn’t mind, because she is also the kind of person who wants to make Jester happy, but her anxiety feels particularly bad today.

“It’s not that…” she continues, forcing a smile on her face. “I wanna visit it. I was just hoping to see the National Museum instead first.”

Yasha kicks a small rock, letting it roll in front of them, and Beau follows it with her eyes so that she can kick it again.

“Why don’t you do it anyway?”

“Uh, dunno. I mean. I don’t wanna be that person , you know? The one who ditches the group on the first day and goes solo to see another museum.”

Yasha frowns, hands nervously playing at the knot on her flannel, and doesn’t respond.

They reach the group a few moments later, and Jester cheerfully tells them the bus is just a couple minutes away.

“Oh.” Yasha murmurs, making the whole group turn to look at her, Beauregard included.

She towers over all of them, even with her shoulders slumped, and she looks so different from the person Beau has seen in all those music videos.

“Everything alright, Yasha?” Fjord asks, gently, always the gentleman.

Yasha nods, pointing her thumb past her shoulder, in the direction where they came from.

“Yeah, uhm. I was kind of hoping to catch the ferry to my place sooner rather than later if, uhm, if that’s alright with you guys.”

As she says it, and as the group starts exclaiming that she should not worry and that she should absolutely go catch her ferry, Yasha’s eyes find Beau’s, and Beau sees her lips curl up in half a smile.

Beau blinks.

No.

She can’t really mean…

“Beau, would you… Uhm, if that’s alright… walk me to the ferry?”

Oh, she means exactly that.

Holy shit.

The eyes of the whole group are now on her, and Beau can’t even bother to return them.

“I think that’s a great idea, Beau.” Jester chimes in, barely suppressing her giggles.

No one even tries to comment on the fact that Yasha is the local here, and that Beau would have no idea of where to find a ferry without a map.

They all stare, a mix of surprise and joyful satisfaction on their faces, as Beau nods, her focus entirely on Yasha.

They both watch as the bus rolls away with their friends inside it, and only then Beau turns to look at Yasha.

“You didn’t have to.” she says, immediately.

Yasha shrugs, shoulders relaxing.

“I don’t like big groups of people anyway.” She responds, like it’s no big deal, then turns to walk towards the direction they came from.

Beau stares at her back as Yasha walks away, and her eyes inevitably fall on her ass.

A magnificent one, if Beau has to be honest.

Yasha turns her head, hands still in her pockets, ponytail swinging wildly behind her, and Beau scrambles to catch up to her.

They buy a couple sandwiches on the ferry and devour them, Yasha sitting contentedly with her back against the railing, while Beau chats the day away, filling Yasha in about all the gossip Jester has already uncovered about the other competitors.

“Jester knows everything, uh?” Yasha says as they’re descending, and Beau swallows the gulp of water and nods.

“Almost, yeah.”

Yasha seems pensive for a long moment, but then her resolve seems to break and she asks: “What does she know about me?”

Beau grimaces, suddenly not excited about the turn the conversation has taken.

“Ermmmm… Not, not much.”

Yasha almost smiles at that.

She looks at Beau, expectantly, and Beau sighs.

She turns away as she goes: “She said you were- are married, and that your bandmates are shifty as fuck and don’t look like the kind of people anyone should be hanging with.”

To Beau’s surprise, Yasha laughs a little.

She actually laughs. It’s small, and controlled, and Beau wishes she could hear what a full hearted laugh from this woman would sound like.

“I mean, she’s not wrong.” Yasha concedes.

“About?”

“All of it. Well. I was married.” Yasha corrects with a bittersweet tone. “Zuala passed away five years ago. So I’m technically not anymore. But everything about my bandmates is true, unfortunately.”

Beau doesn’t even know where to start to unpack that sentence, the longest she’s heard Yasha speak since she’s met her, so she focuses on what is possibly the least painful part.

“You don’t like them at all, do ya?”

Yasha shakes her head.

“They found me. Sponsored me. But Obann is very… Uhm. Controlling. And I don’t like a lot of the stuff he does. Any of them, really.”

Beau doesn’t like this Obann guy. She recalls seeing him in the background of the various performances she’s watched on YouTube. She’s pretty sure he’s the lead guitar, while the other two band members, a massive dude at the drums and a skinny woman with red hair and an ever present bandana, are people Beau never bothered to learn the names of.

Nevertheless, she doesn’t push it.

There is a lot that Yasha is clearly not saying, but Beau doesn’t want to make her more uncomfortable than what she already is, so she changes the subject.

“Anyway, twenty dollars Caleb and Essek bang before the Grand Finale.”

Yasha nearly trips on her own two feet and there it is: a real, lighter laugh.

It’s not nearly as relaxed or full as Beau would hope, but she is happy this way: she has time with Yasha, and that’s more than enough.

Chapter Text

Part Two

Veth stays back with her family on their second day, while Molly and Caduceus have to once again bow out because of the Somnoven rehearsal.

“What does Somnoven mean?” Beau whispers to Yasha, who’s shown up in front of their hotel to wait for all of them. “Molly’s band name?”

Yasha shrugs, helplessly.

“I think Lucien chose it. He’s not very nice.” she adds as an afterthought.

Not very nice would be the understatement of the century. Beau has seen the guy in the elevator, and he damn near growled at Jester when she accidentally mistook him for Molly.

“What are your guys’ plans for the day?” Yasha asks Jester, who starts scrolling through her phone.

“I want to go see the Sodermalm area, ‘cause it’s said to be all about fashion and food and photography.”

Beau doesn’t even hide her grimace at the prospect.

She has plans for the Nordiska Museum, and knowing that Fjord and Jester will be just fine without her, she is less reluctant than she was yesterday to dip out.

“I’m going to the Nordiska.” she says when Yasha looks at her.

“Okay.” Yasha says, and that settles it.

Because when Jester, Fjord, Caleb and Essek start making their way towards their bus, Yasha moves to tag along with Beau.

“You’re coming with me?” she asks her, surprised in a way that makes her sound a bit too brusque. 

Yasha recoils just slightly, her pale skin flushes.

“Oh. No, I mean. Uhm, not unless…” she stutters, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have assumed…”

Panicking, Beau grabs Yasha by the sleeve.

It’s colder today, which means Beau has a full winter jacket and a scarf, while Yasha seems to be content in jeans, t-shirt and an unzipped leather jacket.

“No, no! I’d love for you to come!”

“Oh. Yes?”

“Yeah…”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They stare awkwardly at each other, both of them too incompetent to actually manage to string together a proper sentence, and only after a moment Yasha clears her voice.

“Bus is that way.”

Beau nods, with way more energy than is necessary.

“Yup, let’s go.”

Yasha is an excellent exploration partner.

She reads all the signs in the museum, just behind from where Beau is, and her intimidating presence is enough to scare away kids and families.

Beau benefits from it by managing to get to every exhibit without having to worry about other people, and Yasha is more than content to follow, observe, and point out a fact or two that are not written in the guides.

“It took 19 years to build this museum.” she mutters out of the blue as they are sitting in front of the Arctic melting’s exhibition.

Beau looks up at her with a growing grin, and Yasha doesn’t even notice, her eyes focused on the massive pieces of ice dancing and crashing all over the double screen.

Beau gets to hear about Yasha’s scattered knowledge, a collection of random facts about both the place and the natural history of Sweden.

“Did you study this in college?” she ends up asking while they’re pacing through the Sápmi exhibition.

Yasha stares at the colorful flag.

“High school dropout.” she says, and then: “Did you know the Sámi are the only Indigenous people still living on our land?”

Beau doesn’t even manage to shake her head before Yasha starts moving throughout the room, completely enraptured by the things she sees.

Beau realizes after a couple of hours that she should plan to come back to this place, because half of the time she’s spent it staring at Yasha instead.

They grab some lunch in the museum cafeteria, and Beau enjoys watching as Yasha’s shoulders relax more and more.

Inevitably, though, the subject of conversation falls back onto the Song Contest.

“We are not going to see you perform until the Grand Finale.” she pokes with her compostable fork.

Sweden is on a whole different level when it comes to eco-innovation.

“That makes me even more nervous.” Yasha admits, playing with her fries.

“Why?”

She shrugs.

“I don’t know. What if we are terrible? At least going through the Semi Final would help eliminate the unworthy.”

Beau bites back a laugh.

“Alright, Captain America. Chill.” she teases, managing to get Yasha to smile. “You guys are fantastic. Your voice is amazing, man, you shouldn’t worry at all.”

Yasha’s smile fades, replaced with a frown.

She looks around, wary, then stares at Beau.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Beau, a sucker for secrets and a really good keeper of them as well, immediately nods.

Yasha seems to believe her, because she lowers her voice.

“This is not how I imagined singing this song, when I wrote it.”

It takes a moment for Beau to put two and two together, and then she nearly spits out her own fry.

“You wrote it?” she shouts-whispers.

Yasha nods.

“It’s about control and power, but not in the way most people think of.” she explains, finally grabbing a fry. She dips it in her glass of Diet Coke and then sucks briefly on it, not noticing the way Beau stares at the whole ordeal.

“It’s more about regaining that control when everything and everyone tries to rip it away from you. It’s about starting over and finding the strength and power within yourself, not given by others.”

Beau bites her lip.

“That is not at all the way I interpreted it when I heard it.” she admits.

Yasha shakes her head darkly.

“Because it’s not played right.” she mutters.

Beau carefully dips her own fry in Yasha’s Diet Coke, gathering her attention. She brings the fry to her lips and suckles at it, marvelling at the way salt mixes with sugar, then happily chomps down on it.

If anything, that only makes Yasha smile again.

“Why don’t ya sing it the way you want it?” Beau asks and Yasha sighs, leaning back on her chair.

“Obann’s in control.” she says, and she doesn’t add anything else.

She doesn’t have to.

If Beau didn’t like him before, she certainly hates his guts now.

The guy sounds like an absolute nightmare.

“I’m sorry.” she can only say, honestly feeling sorry for her new friend.

Yasha sighs again, grabbing a handful of fries and dipping all of them in her drink.

After she downs the whole bite, she looks up at Beau.

“Do you have a plan for the afternoon?”

Beau is never going to admit that she was going to catch up with Fjord and Jester or maybe go to see the VASA museum.

Because whatever Yasha has clearly in mind will be much better than that.

Any time she can spend with Yasha, Beau will take gladly.

“None.”

Yasha toys with the remaining fries.

And then…

“Can I show you something?”

They have to take two buses from the Nordiska Museum to wherever they are going, but Beau follows Yasha through the streets of Stockholm and trusts her.

Beau finds herself staring at a medium sized lake, with tranquil waters and the chirping of birds happily resounding through the whole area.

As the bus drives away, Beau realizes she can’t hear the noise of the city traffic anymore, and that the only sounds are those of the birds and of the gentle breeze.

“What is this place?” she asks, in awe, turning around to take in all the trees of different shapes and sizes surrounding the lake.

“ Bergianska Trädgården .” Yasha says, and Beau whips her head around in hearing Yasha’s first language. She loves it immediately. “The Bergius Botanic Garden. It’s my favorite place.”

Beau can see why.

She follows Yasha through a dirt path, diving deeper in that beautiful installment that is the massive botanic garden.

On the outside, they walk through the park, moving between trees, plants and flowers of every kind. Yasha stops to smell a few of the flowers, and Beau can’t help but do the same.

They walk in companionable silence, broken only by Beau’s occasional: “How do you say this in Swedish?” to which Yasha smiles and responds.

Most of the words are absolutely foreign to Beau, and when she tries to repeat them, Yasha presses her lips together and avoids her gaze.

It’s only after she butchers what is supposed to be the word for “lake” that she realizes Yasha is trying really hard not to laugh at her.

“How dare you?” Beau grins, jabbing her finger in Yasha’s side, making her squirm away with a smile. “I’m working hard over here.”

“If that’s how you work hard, I don’t think I’ll see you at the finals.” Yasha responds immediately, with the flattest of tones.

Beau is so taken aback that she stops dead in her tracks.

Yasha turns her head just slightly, a twinkle in her eyes that does nothing to help Beau’s poor gay heart.

“It was a joke, Beauregard.” Yasha says, and Beau nearly swoons.

Yasha leads her to the Victoria House and pays for both their entrance tickets through her watch before Beau has even the time to grab her wallet.

“ Tack .” Yasha murmurs, as Beau trudges along with a pout.

“You didn’t have to, you know?”

“I know.” Yasha says, nonplussed. “You can pay next time.”

They both fall into an awkward but happy silence at the shared thought that there could be a next time, and they proceed to the Victoriahuset .

They spend a couple of hours wandering around the garden, exploring the outside and inside of it as Yasha points out her favorite plants and as Beau marvels at flowers she’s never seen in her life.

Yasha talks about the place with soft tones and joy in her eyes, and it’s only by following her around like a lovesick puppy that Beau finally gets it.

She finally understands what she’s felt upon first meeting Yasha, and what it was about her that was so different from the woman she saw in music videos and the covers of magazines.

Yasha is gentle.

She is a tall, muscular woman who speaks in hushed tones and gently caresses the petals of flowers.

Watching those videos where Yasha is trudging around the stage with dark makeup around her eyes and a full leather outfit, as she screams in the microphone a song about power and control have given Beau the wrong impression of Yasha Nydoorin.

Now, as she observes Yasha happily telling her the names of each flower in the Garden, Beau sees the softness in this woman’s demeanor. It’s so clear that Beau doesn’t understand how she didn’t see it before. How no one has seen it before.

Beau remembers being incredibly attracted to Yasha before even meeting her. And now, after having spent a couple of days in her company, she finds herself being attracted to way more than just her looks.

Yasha’s personality, her gentleness and her dry jokes draw Beauregard in, and she can’t help but smile and let herself go.

They stop for what Yasha calls a ‘fika’ at a nearby pub.

“It’s like, um… Like a happy hour, but not exactly.” she tries to explain. “It’s like a coffee break, but it’s more about sitting down and talking to your friends, getting to know them, than drinking the coffee.”

“Like a date.” Beau finds herself blurting out before she realizes what the fuck she is saying.

Yasha hides a smile behind her cup, but can’t successfully conceal the small blush on her cheeks.

“Sometimes, yes.” she says, quietly. “If it’s with the right person.”

Beau’s heart skips a beat.

The tone of voice Yasha has is nothing if not flirtatious, and Beau can’t believe her goddamn luck.

Of course, her luck never runs for too long anyway, because as she is opening her mouth to respond, another voice chimes in.

A heavily accented, male voice, that Beau has hoped to never have to hear again.

“Beauregard? Dio , what are you doing here?”

Beau closes her eyes momentarily and grits her teeth.

“Hi, Tony.”

She doesn’t even bother turning, and clenches her fists on the table, but looks up to greet the boy she had dated for a brief few weeks during her summer camp in Italy.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asks again, his heavily accented voice doing nothing to hide the distaste.

“I am a competitor.” Beau comments, anger rising in her body. “Just like you and your… People.”

She raises her chin to the four guys standing behind her ex-boyfriend, and they all sneer in her direction.

There’s the softest of touches on the back of her hand, and when she looks up, Yasha’s fingers are gently prying hers open. Only then Beau realizes she’s been digging her nails into her palm.

Yasha’s expression is one of worry, and when Beau smiles a tight lipped smile, Yasha looks up.

Tony has been watching the silent exchange with a growing curiosity on his face, and Beau is nearly out of her seat when Yasha intervenes.

“Do you need anything?” she asks, and there is a clear threat in her tone. For how soft she has always been around Beau, now she looks anything but. 

She could easily lift Tony with a single hand, and he seems to be starting to realize the same thing.

He opens his mouth a couple times, trying to find the right words, and Yasha cuts him short.

“Well, then. Leave, please. Beauregard and I are enjoying our fika .”

Beau has no idea what part of Yasha’s statement triggers the effect that it does, but Tony flushes so hard that she thinks he might burst a vein.

His whole face turns to a violent shade of red and then purple, and the group of friends behind him open their mouths in half shock.

“Y-You do that.” Tony stammers, without even looking at Beau. “Bye!”

They watch him as he stumbles backwards, crashing into his group of buddies and then quickly leaving the premises, both him and his friends blushing to their damn ears.

Beau and Yasha lean far out from their seats to witness this poor attempt of a retreat, and then turn to look at each other.

“What the hell did you say to him?” Beau asks, half shocked.

Yasha shrugs, helplessly.

“Just what you heard.”

Beau scratches the back of her head, glancing at the door once more where her insufferable ex has disappeared.

“I wonder what he thought fika meant.” she mutters.

Yasha hums and fishes her phone out of her pocket.

“ Hej Google .” she says, frown still evident on her face. “ Hur säger du Fika på italienska? ”

Yasha holds her phone in front of her, one elbow on the small table and her other hand folded in the crook of her elbow.

It’s just a few seconds before the answer appears on her screen, and when it does, Beauregard immediately knows.

Because Yasha’s pale skin becomes redder, and her lips press against one another in a desperate but fruitless attempt to not laugh.

“What?” Beau asks, reaching out for the phone. “What is it?”

Yasha hands her the device, ducking her head and pressing her palm against her mouth.

Beau flips the phone, eyes scanning the screen. The great majority of the phone’s set up is in Swedish, but she’s learned by now that Sweden seems to be flipping between their own language and English with ease, so the rest of the search is in English.

The first thing she notices is how the autocorrect for the voice recording suggested “fica” instead of “fika”.

And then, her eyes focus on the answer.

“Oh my God.” she exhales. “Oh-Oh fuck .”

She looks up at Yasha, an expression of pure shock on her face, and she just manages to see the amusement in Yasha’s eyes before the woman rolls her head back and bursts out laughing.

Beau is still too in shock to immediately react, but as soon as she glances at the phone again and the memory of Tony’s face comes back to her mind, the laugh starts bubbling up in her throat.

A moment later, both her and Yasha are hiccupping through their hysterics, Beau’s head folded in her arms as she tries to contain herself, while Yasha’s beautiful, full hearted laugh echoes through the pub.

Beau rolls her head on her forearm, glancing up at the woman in front of her, taking in the sight of those beautiful eyes twinkling in amusement, of the two dimples appearing on Yasha’s cheeks, and on the soft redness on pale skin from all the laughing.

Beau remembers thinking that she’d wanted to make Yasha laugh, for real.

This is more than she could’ve ever asked for, although the reason why they’re laughing is the stupidest little thing.

They’re acting like teenagers in front of a bad word, and Beau doesn’t recall a time when she felt so good.

Not even with Tori she’s ever let down her guard so much.

Not that Tori ever gave her the chance to do it, breaking up with her after only a couple of months of dating, but this is different.

It’s incredible how easy it is to be herself around Yasha, to lower her walls.

Yasha’s laughter nearly dies down, and Beau sniffles and presses a thumb under her eyelids to collect a few tears.

“Oh, yeah.” she says. “I really like fika .”

They stare at one another, and a moment later, they burst out laughing again. 

After visiting the Stadshuset, Stockholm City Hall, Yasha walks her back to the hotel.

Beau knows she has to be back on time to start the first few steps of Jester’s absolutely insane plan, but she regrets not having more time to spend with Yasha.

It’s like the time spent at the pub has unlocked something.

Conversation flows easily between them, and Yasha teaches her a few more words in Swedish in exchange for little life stories from Beau’s childhood.

“How do you say violin?” Beau asks after admitting her dad had forced her into classical music at a very young age. Only after being locked in boarding school for the great majority of her teens had Beau picked up a different instrument.

“ Fiol. ” Yasha responds promptly, looking up at the sign of Beau’s hotel.

They awkwardly stand in front of each other, reluctant to move away.

It’s like they’re both aware of this attraction that has been going on since the very first moment they met, but neither seems to be brave enough to admit it, let alone make that first step.

“I think…” Beau clears her voice. “I think Molly and Jester wanted to try and do a bar crawl tonight. Do you… Are you going to join us?”

Yasha rubs the tip of her boot on the asphalt and shakes her head, apologetically.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” she murmurs. “Obann… He wants to meet to go over the rehearsal schedule.”

Beau already hates the guy, and this doesn’t help settle her growing concern.

This Obann really does sound like a controlling type, and every time Yasha mentions him, her whole body tenses.

This is a person who can make Yasha Nydoorin cower in fear and stress, and Beau already wants to strangle him.

“Oh.” she says. “I’m sorry, man. Maybe you can ditch him.”

Yasha smiles, sadly.

“Maybe.” she says, and they both know she won’t.

Yasha coughs, hands back in her pockets in what Beau is learning to read as her comfort stance. Beau can see her hands worrying through the tight fabric, as Yasha clenches and unclenches her fists.

“Thank you for today, uhm. Yeah. Thank you.” Beau says, and Yasha nods, a bit of tension leaving her shoulders.

“Any time.”

Beau takes all the courage she possesses and steps forward and onto the tip of her toes, pressing a kiss on Yasha’s cheek.

Yasha doesn’t move.

“ Tack , Yasha.” Beau whispers, and Yasha exhales.

Their bodies are a millimeter away from being pressed together, and the warm breath from Yasha’s exhale tickles Beau’s cheek.

For a moment, Beau remains where she is, and then pulls back…

… Just as Yasha begins turning her head.

Their noses brush, and Beau swallows.

She tilts her head up slightly, her eyes meeting Yasha’s.

“ Varsågod… ” Yasha responds, and this time Beau can feel her breath directly on her lips.

Beau reaches out to clasp Yasha’s biceps with cold fingers, and Yasha slowly takes her hands out of her pockets to grab onto Beau’s waist.

“Beau…” Yasha whispers, and Beau decides to take the leap.

Beau’s phone starts ringing.

They jump out of their reverie, and immediately take half a step back.

It’s like the world comes crashing back down onto them, as the noise of the traffic and tourists filters back through their foggy minds.

Beau clears her voice, and Yasha’s hands dive back into her pockets.

“Sorry. Shit.” Beau fumbles with her phone, seeing Jester’s name on the screen. “Fuck, I have to-.”

Yasha smiles at her, and there is no irritation or anger in her expression.

“Don’t worry.” she says. She gestures with her head to where the bus stop is. “I have to go, anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” Beau repeats, even though it’s not her fault.

“Next time.” Yasha says, her smile growing a bit more teasing. She waves at her and turns around.

Beau stares at Yasha’s back in disbelief, not exactly sure as to what just happened, but when Yasha reaches the bus stop, she looks back.

Beau raises a hand, and Yasha chuckles.

The phone in her other hand keeps ringing, and Beau blindly accepts the call before bringing the device to her ear.

“Jester, this better fucking be a life or death situation.”

As it turns out, it is anything but a life or death situation, and more of a rendezvous about their Parent Trap Mission.

Beau begrudgingly stomps out of the elevator and into her room, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she almost kissed Yasha Nydoorin, and grunts back at Dairon when they greet her.

Dairon raises an eyebrow and doesn’t comment, going back to their book.

“Did you even leave this room today?” Beau asks, a bit too snappy, as she collects her clothes to shower.

Dairon doesn’t look up. 

“Didn’t feel like it. I had a full day yesterday.” is their only response.

Beau rolls her eyes and locks herself in the bathroom to shower.

Under the warm stream of water, she takes a big breath in and rubs her face clean.

She pushes the thought of Yasha away from her racing mind, and focuses on the matter at hand.

As much as she groans and acts out in front of Jester’s ideas, this one she really cares about.

Beau cares about Dairon deeply, and Gods know they deserve a bit of happiness.

So she washes the sweat of the day off her body, and she plans her next moves.

She comes out of the bathroom ten minutes later, washed hair collected at the top of her head in a bun.

She throws the clean towel directly at Dairon’s face, who flinches and looks up at her, irritated.

“You need to shower.” Beau tells them. “You stink.”

Dairon raises an eyebrow and not-so-subtly turns their head towards their armpit.

“Whatever.” they mutter.

They however close the book and grab Beau’s towel before heading towards the bathroom.

The moment the door clicks closed, Beau springs into action.

She ditches her towel and throws underwear on, jeans and a crop top.

Quickly, she makes her own bed and opens one of the windows, then digs through Dairon’s suitcase to find the best, sexiest outfit they own, which turns out to be a pair of black slacks and a white blouse.

Beau drapes them on her arm and grabs the cologne from their shared desk, spraying some on her own body.

The noise inside the bathroom stops, and Beau listens as Dairon starts getting ready to exit it.

She plops herself in front of the door, and when Dairon opens it, a towel tightly wrapped around their body, Beau sprays them in the face with the cologne.

As they cough, completely taken aback, and before they can recover enough to strangle her, Beau hands them their clothes.

“Get dressed.” she orders. “It’s time to get you out of here.”

Dairon growls at her, but Beau doesn’t budge.

“It’s an order.” Beau grins, and Dairon all but rips the clothes out of Beau’s hands before locking themselves up in the bathroom once more.

“AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH!” she screams through the closed door.

Dairon is not much different than she is, and Beau knows very well by now how to deal with them.

Luckily, that also means that it doesn’t take long for them to get ready, so it’s only five minutes later that Dairon leaves the bathroom dressed to the nines.

“Where are we going?” they mutter.

Beau ignores them, pretending to be too busy to realize they’re talking to her, and taps furiously at her phone.

> Where are you????

She presses send, and luckily Jester replies within half a second.

> Elevator!

> Be there in a sec!

“Beauregard.” 

Beau’s head snaps up, and Dairon crosses their arms on their chest.

“Where are we going?”

Beau gets up, taking her sweet time to stretch out her arms and back.

“Well, here’s the thing…” she starts, immediately making Dairon’s eyebrows lift in suspicion.

“When I said that it’s time to get you out of here, I didn’t mean that you were coming with me.”

Dairon’s forehead vein starts bulging, and Beau regrets not sitting closer to the door, because she’s pretty certain she’s about to get murdered.

“Beauregard Lionett.” Dairon exhales. “What did you do?”

Beau smiles an innocent smile, and she’s about to consider heading for the window when a solid knock comes from the door.

Dairon’s head snaps in that direction, and Beau takes her chance to roll over on the bed and out of Dairon’s reach, running then to yank the door open.

In front of her, Jester and her mother stand, the former holding what looks like a scarf, the latter looking absolutely stunned and stunning in her evening dress.

“Is that why you blindfolded me?” Marion Lavorre weakly asks, the question directed at her daughter, and eyes fixated on the person standing behind Beauregard.

Jester bites her lower lip, glancing at Beau and then at her mother.

Beau quietly moves out of the way, casting a side eye at Dairon, who still hasn’t moved.

Their arms are rigid at their sides, and their face is emotionless.

Beau knows them well, and she can see the pain behind those dark eyes.

“Marion.” they salute.

Marion cautiously steps through the threshold, hands pressed against her chest.

“My darling.” Marion responds with what Beau would describe as absolute adoration.

Darion exhales a shaky breath.

Beau quietly steps away and towards the door, seeing how the two have eyes for one another only. She grabs the handle and starts pulling the door closed.

The last thing she sees is Marion’s hand gently pressing against Dairon’s cheek, and Dairon closing their eyes.

Beau closes the door.

“Do you think we did the right thing?” she asks Jester once they reach the elevator.

Jester nods, but she doesn’t look too sure.

“I hope so, Beau.” she murmurs, glancing back at Beau and Dairon’s room. “I really hope so.”

Beau envelops her best friend’s shoulders with her arm for a brief side hug, and Jester takes a shaky breath in.

They meet Fjord, Caleb and Essek downstairs, and then they all walk to find Molly at the bus stop, who is chatting amiably with another person who looks like Lucien.

“Oh, Gods.” Beau groans. “They invited the asshole?”

Only, when they get closer, they realize that it’s not Lucien at all.

The guy looks like a carbon copy of both Lucien and Molly, but he’s just slightly shorter than the twins. His hair is different as well, and he looks much more laid back than Lucien.

“Hey, guys.” Molly waves. The other guy turns to look at them and erases any doubt. “This is my little brother Kingsley. He’s coming with us tonight.”

Kingsley grins at all of them, and Beau looks at the two sibling with growing disbelief.

“Did your parents press copy-paste on all of you?” she spits out before anyone can say anything else.

Kingsley reaches out with his hand.

“ You must be Beauregard.” he says, and Beau glares at Molly, who smirks back at her.

“Fuck you, Mollymauk.”

They go to a place called Göta Källare , which Molly apparently found when he was travelling during their gap year.

“This is where I met Yasha.” they say, looking pointedly at Beau when they say that. Beau averts her gaze. “She was performing here as a solo artist, at the time.”

Beau tries to imagine a younger Yasha, less burdened by the stress of life, of the band, of Obann. Maybe a Yasha who still had a wife to go back to; Beau doesn’t exactly remember the timeline of all that, but she hopes Yasha had been happy, then.

The place is big and loud, and it’s clearly a night for dancing and flirting, and in any other situation Beau would have thrived in the chaos.

Fjord and Jester don’t move too far away from one another, and Caleb and Essek find a place in the corner to sit with their heads close and beers clutched in their hands.

Beau envies all of them just a little bit.

If it had been any other night, any other city, she might have tried to find a girl to make out with.

As it is, she doesn’t have any desire to find anyone.

Her mind keeps racing back to Yasha, and how much she wishes Yasha was here.

But she doesn’t even have Yasha’s phone number, because she never asked for it, and Yasha never asked for hers.

Beau briefly wonders if it’s because Yasha doesn’t care about keeping in touch afterwards. Maybe this is just a fling, for her. Her Eurovision adventure.

Beau hasn’t really stopped to think of what this all means, and now that she’s sitting alone at the bar, watching as Molly wraps their arms around a blond guy with a sweet smile and kisses him, she starts to wonder what she should do.

Her train of thought is interrupted by the voice of a woman.

“Wishing that was you?” she asks, a slightly accented voice that Beau guesses is probably Greek.

Beau follows to where the woman is pointing, and nearly gags seeing she’s alluding to Molly and the blond, who are now fully making out in the middle of the dance floor.

“Fuck, no.” she laughs, turning on her stool to avert her gaze from what could turn into a show, considering Molly’s tendency for theatrics.

“Molly’s a dick, and I’m not into those.” Beau says, adding: “In any sense of the term.”

The woman throws a concerned glance behind them. Beau is pretty certain she’s already seen this woman somewhere, but she can’t remember where.

“How much of a dick are we talking about?” she asks. “Alexander doesn’t need to be hurt again.”

She looks like she’s ready to throw hands for said friend, who Beau assumes is the blond dude.

Despite herself, she shakes her head.

“Not that kind of dick.” she reassures her. “Molly is an asshole, but a good asshole. Not that I’ll ever admit it in front of them.”

The woman relaxes immediately, and finally settles on her stool, waving a hand to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Next is on me.” she tells him, pointing at Beau’s drink.

Beau’s body ignites, recognizing the move immediately.

She’s been approached way too many girls at bars not to know how the drill works.

“What’s your name?” she asks, tilting her head and grinning her signature grin. It’s almost like second nature to her.

“Mita.” the woman says, matching her smirk with one of her own. “And yours?”

“Beauregard, but you can call me Beau.” she says.

Mita nods, smirking behind her glass.

“Australia, correct?” she guesses, and Beau flinches, something finally clicking in her memory.

“Wait. Mita Xenakis?” Beau asks. “Winner of Eurovision 2020?”

Mita winks at her.

“I wouldn’t say I was the real winner. Iceland stole everyone’s heart that year.”

Beau snorts.

“Iceland shat the bed for ninety-five percent of the Song Contest.”

Mita laughs despite herself, and shakes her head. She smiles, and it’s full of affection.

“Don’t judge them too harshly. They had a lot going on, and they did the best they could despite the circumstances.”

Beau assumes she probably befriended what the press had criticized as one of the worst and best groups of the decade.

“They changed the song during the contest. They knew they were going to get disqualified.” she points out.

Mita takes a sip of her drink and hums.

“Yes. And yet they did it anyway.” she confirms. She throws a glance at Beau. “We do crazy things for love, Beauregard. They only had the courage to do it in front of the world.”

Beau blinks a couple times, taken aback. Love .

She lowers her gaze on her drink, and her thoughts race back to Yasha.

Love is such a foreign concept to her. She doesn’t think she’s ever fallen in love, and she wonders if the feelings she has for this girl are what people consider as falling for someone.

“I guess.”

Mita searches for something as she studies her face, and when she finds it, she sighs.

“I was hoping to get into someone’s bed tonight, but I realize you are not available.”

Beau’s head jerks up.

Mita is staring at her friend again, with a growing smile on her face.

“Alexander is going to get luckier than me, I’m afraid.”

Beau doesn’t really know what to say. She never found herself in a situation of having to turn down a girl’s advances.

“You are very hot.” she says, almost like she’s trying to reassure her.

Mita chuckles and winks at her again.

“Oh, I know.”

Beau grins.

“I meant to say that you are going to be just fine. Tonight and tomorrow and any other time.” Beau continues, and Mita shakes her head, deeply amused.

She waves at the bartender again, miming a pen.

The guy hands her one, and Mita scribbles a phone number on the napkin underneath Beau’s drink.

“If you need anything.” she says, and her tone doesn’t match her words.

Because that’s something Beau would say -and has said- to girls to get inside their pants.

But Mita’s voice is gentle, reassuring, and maliceless.

Beau looks down at the napkin, not really knowing what to do, and when she looks up, Mita is gone.

Chapter Text

Part Three

Dairon is not in the room when Beauregard wakes up.

She is not all that surprised by it.

Dairon has always been more similar to her than either  of the two would have ever liked to admit, and Beau knows that if someone had pulled what she and Jester pulled last night, she would be murderous.

Except, Beau reasons, maybe murderous would be better, considering how the day turns out to be.

She runs through the empty underground corridors of the Avicii Arena, her guitar in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

She is not exactly late, but she doesn’t want to give more reasons for Dairon to hate her.

As she finally reaches the stairs to the backstage area where they’re supposed to meet with the chief engineer, she spots Dairon, leaning with their arms crossed against the wall, their own guitar case sitting on the floor.

“Hey.” Beau exhales, slowing to a stop.

Dairon briefly turns to look at her, then plucks the phone from their back pocket and completely ignores Beau’s greeting.

Beau sighs, readying herself for a really long day of rehearsal.

They settle on stage with familiarity, plugging and fixing instruments like it’s a daily routine. In a way, it really is.

They don’t need to talk while they do it, and Beau doesn’t try to start a conversation, and Dairon doesn’t even look at her, let alone speak.

They only answer the questions the staff around them ask about the set up, the lights, the music.

Beau drags her stool closer to her mic, fixing the stand to the proper height.

Her guitar feels familiar under her fingertips, and she is pretty sure the sound is fine, but she takes some time to tune it anyway.

On the other stool, Dairon does the same.

They run through different warm ups, cycling between open chords, and going through each chord shape they know, trying to put them down all at once. They don’t have to speak to sync up what they’re doing, having rehearsed like this for years.

Hell, Beau’s whole warm up and stretch routine has been taught to her by the same person playing the guitar next to her.

Beau feels the familiar feeling of her trained hands getting to work, blood flowing nicely through them all.

She looks up to Dairon and nods. Dairon nods back, curtly, and that’s the most recognition Beau’s gets for the rest of the morning.

They run the song three times before lunch, and they are asked to show up again in the afternoon to try switching between the previous competitors’ set up and the following one.

Dairon packs their guitar up and leaves before Beau has even the time to get up from her stool.

She sighs heavily, stomping out of the arena to find a restaurant  she can have her lunch break at, and regrets every single choice she’s made.

As she’s waiting for her sushi, her phone vibrates in her pocket.

It’s a message from Jester, together with a picture.

Beau instinctively smiles at the sight of the group squishing their faces all together for a half-assed selfie.

Caleb and Essek hang in the background, trying to seem disinterested but really just looking like someone who’s enjoying themselves.

Fjord and Jester are adorable as hell, and as usual incredibly photogenic. Beau doesn’t think she’s ever seen a single picture of those two looking bad.

On the side, Mollymauk has one arm around Yasha’s waist as they flip the finger at the camera.

Beau barely even looks at them, focusing on Yasha instead.

“Fuck me…” she whispers, staring at the soft smile, at those happy eyes.

Her order is placed on the table, so she hits the call button on Jester’s contact before thanking the server and starting to reorganize her food.

Jester picks up almost immediately.

“Hey, man.” Beau salutes, drowning her sushi in soy sauce. “What’s up.”

“ BEAU !” Jester literally screams in the receiver, forcing Beau to flinch and move the phone away from her face.

“Jester, volume.” She hears Fjord’s reminder on the other side, and only after Jester giggles she decides it’s safe to go back to the conversation.

“Everyone misses you here, Beau!” Jester whines. “Even Molly!”

Beau seriously doubts that’s accurate at all, but she lets it slide.

“Right.” she chomps down on her California roll, then cuts it short: “Have you talked to your mom at all?”

There’s a moment of silence, during which Beau hears the background noise becoming less insistent, a sign that Jester has taken a few steps away from the group.

“Not really.” Jester admits. “She was already asleep when we came back, and then we had breakfast with Fjord and I didn’t want to bring it up.”

“Does Fjord not know?”

“No, he does. But I didn’t think Mama wanted to talk about it in general, let alone with her daughter’s boyfriend in the room.”

“Fair.”

“Have you talked to Dairon?”

Beau places her chopsticks on the tray, using her free hand to rub her eyes.

“No. They can barely look at me.”

There’s a long moment of silence on the other side.

“I’m sorry, Beau.” Jester whispers, sadly.

Beau shakes her head, fully knowing Jester can’t really see her. She swallows the knot in her throat, trying not to show how affected she is by Dairon’s indifference.

“It’s fine. We had to do it.” she murmurs. “Dairon will come around, eventually.”

Jester sighs.

“They love you a lot, Beau. It will be okay.”

Beau closes her eyes, but before she can add anything else, there’s a big cacophony of voices on the other side of the call, together with Jester’s laughter and Molly’s annoying cackle.

Then, all of a sudden.

“Uhm, hey, Beau.”

Beau immediately straightens up on the chair, looking around like she’s suddenly sure Yasha can see her.

“Uh, oh, hey-hey Yasha…”

Beau is going to kill Jester, this is for certain. And Mollymauk, too, for good measure.

“How is the… Are you guys having fun?” she forces herself to ask, the silence having gone too long already.

“Uh, yeah. I think so.” Yasha says, and then: “You’re not here, though.”

Beau takes a deep breath in, clutching the phone with both her hands.

“Yeah. Yeah, rehearsal…”

“I know.”

Silence stretches out again, and Beau hates it.

Yesterday, they were talking like they’d known each other for years, and now they can’t even have a normal conversation.

Beau has never liked phone calls all that much, and now she likes them even less.

She tries to find something smart to say, something funny to say, but before she can come up with something, Yasha whispers: “Are you okay?” and Beau deflates.

“I… I am not sure.” Beau answers, honestly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really, Yasha.” she murmurs, warmed up by the soft voice of the woman on the other side of the call. “But thank you. I… I appreciate it. Really do.”

Yasha hums, acknowledging Beau’s need for space without needing to say much else.

“Bye, Beau.”

Beau takes another deep breath in.

“Bye, Yash.”

The afternoon doesn’t go much better than the morning.

Dairon once again refuses to talk to her, and barely even looks in her direction.

Beau grits her teeth and pushes through a few more hours of actual hell, her only comfort being Jester’s voice reminding her of the love there is between her and Dairon, and Yasha’s brief but meaningful little conversation.

When Beau stays behind to sign the last few pieces of paperwork, Dairon leaves the arena without her.

“Sit.”

Beau whips her head around, finding Dairon already staring at her.

They’re sitting all the way across the room from the door, on the windowsill. They gesture at the opposite side of it, and Beau finishes locking the door of the hotel room and does as she’s told.

“Why do I feel like I’m eleven again, smashing the violin through the window of the living room?” she asks as she approaches the window.

“Because you’re an idiot, and you have no respect.” Dairon spits out without mincing words.

Beau takes it all in, swallowing the physical pain she suddenly feels in hearing that coming from Dairon.

Only when she’s sitting down, Dairon speaks.

“What were you thinking?” they murmur, and it’s sad. It’s even more painful than if Dairon was angry, because at least that’s something Beau knows.

She knows anger, and disgust, and disappointment.

But Dairon doesn’t sound like any of that. They just sound… Well, sad.

“Someone needed to do something about it.” Beau shrugs. “And you were clearly not going to. Nor was Marion judging by what Jester said.”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe we didn’t want to?”

Beau scoffs.

“ Please . I might be an idiot, but I’m not blind. I have seen the way you look at her and she at you. I have witnessed first hand what it means to mention Marion Lavorre in front of you, Dairon.”

Dairon clenches their jaw and doesn’t respond, turning to look outside the window.

“You had no right, Beauregard.” they say after a long minute of silence.

Beau leans back.

“Maybe.” she concedes. “But I care about you, and I am so tired of seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” Dairon nearly scoffs in disbelief. “I don’t look like anything.”

“Christ, Dairon. You have always been an incredibly powerful, independent person. And yet, every time Marion’s subject is broached, it looks like your heart physically shatters in your chest.”

Dairon closes their eyes for a moment, then shakes their head.

“It’s been like this since I met you.” Beau prompts, gently, gentler than she’s ever been with them. Or with many others, really.

“Because my feelings for Marion have not changed since you met me.” Dairon concedes, finally. “Nor since I met her, I have to say.”

Beau dares reaching out with her hand to grab onto Dairon’s knee.

“Then why? What happened twenty years ago, Dai’?”

After a moment, Dairon places their hand on Beauregard’s and squeezes.

“Let’s order dinner.” they say, and their voice shakes for a moment. “And I’ll tell you.”

They settle on their own bed with sushi, and it’s familiar.

Just like her, Dairon loves sushi. They have bonded over dinner many times in the past, although this feels different.

Heavier, in a way.

As much as Beau thinks she knows Dairon, she’s never managed to figure out what the hell happened to them and Marion.

Finally finding out feels important, and scary.

So Beau doesn’t press. She waits and steals a few glances towards her mentor, and only once Dairon has gone through half her nigiris they look up.

“We met at the hotel, on the first day.” Dairon murmurs, with the softest of smiles already on their face. “You have no idea, Beauregard. The exact moment I saw that woman I knew I was a goner.”

Beau thinks she might have an idea, but doesn’t say anything.

Not only is she not ready to talk about Yasha, but this feels too important to interrupt.

“We went on a date the same night, and barely left each other’s side for the whole duration of the contest. It was like walking in a dream.”

Dairon plays with their food for a moment, frowning slightly.

“Marion was fresh out of her divorce, and the world was very judgemental, then more than now. It wasn’t an easy experience, for her, because of how the media kept portraying her. We kept our relationship on the down low, and never talked about it with anyone.”

Until now , Beau thinks, quietly putting down her chopsticks.

Dairon breathes out and shakes their head slightly.

“We were very happy. Then I won the contest, and it came time to go home.” Dairon shrugs. “We talked about going away together. But I had a job offer in Sydney, and Marion’s life was in Prague. We had different plans, and different ideas on how our lives were supposed to go.”

Dairon stabs one of her avocado rolls with a single chopstick and watches as it slowly comes apart.

“We kept in touch. For a while, at least. We thought we could make it work, you know?” Dairon looks up only briefly, and Beau can see the redness around their eyes. They don’t cry, not really. Beau doesn’t think she’s ever seen Dairon cry, but this is the closest to it as she’s ever experienced, and she doesn’t like it.

She hates seeing Dairon so vulnerable, so hurt.

“It was nobody’s fault, really, but things fell apart. It was so sudden, and unexpected…”

Dairon laughs to themselves, rubbing their palm against their face.

All of a sudden, Beau feels like she’s missing a few details.

“Wait, what was?” she asks, confused.

Dairon sighs. They cover their mouth with their palm for a moment, breathing into it for a few seconds, before nodding and moving the hand to rub the back of their neck.

“Jester.” They simply say.

Beau frowns.

Jester?

“What does Jester have anything… anything… to...”

As she speaks, the words slowly get swallowed by the realization, by the understanding of what Dairon is implying.

Jester.

Of course. Jester is twenty years old.

“Marion found out she was pregnant a month after Eurovision.” Dairon explains, although Beau has now finally understood. “Her husband was long gone at that point, and she didn’t feel like reaching out to him to tell him about the daughter they had conceived before splitting up.”

Dairon finally picks up the half-destroyed avocado roll.

“She decided to raise Jester on her own, with the help of her family around her.”

Dairon shakes their head, frustrated and almost angry.

“I loved her. So much. And I have learned to love Jester just as much as I love you, but I was nineteen. We were both children. I just wasn’t ready to be a parent.”

Beau can sense the guilt growing in their mentor’s voice, and she realizes the anger and frustration are directed at themselves.

She puts the rest of her sushi aside, sliding down her bed to go sit next to Dairon.

“Dai, that’s nobody’s fault. Most certainly not yours.”

Dairon scoffs, almost like they don’t believe her.

Considering how similar they are, it’s probably true.

“Whatever it was, Marion wasn’t going to leave her home to follow me around the world, and I had a place to be in Australia.” they continue, angrily pressing their palms against their eyes, almost to prevent tears from falling.

“We realized it was not going to happen, and we decided it was best for everyone to cut all communication.”

Beau puts her hand on Dairon’s thigh and squeezes, understanding more than Dairon could ever know.

Dairon takes a deep breath in, grabbing Beau’s hand in theirs for a short moment.

“Jester can never know.” Beau murmurs, and Dairon nods.

“Marion tried her very best to never let Jester suspect any of it. The girl would be destroyed if she knew.” Dairon mutters. “And neither of us wants that. Jester is amazing, and the most amazing gift in Marion’s life.”

Beau side glances in their direction.

It’s quite evident there are a lot of feelings simmering underneath the shielded and defensive exterior of Dairon’s personality.

“Do you love her?”

Dairon looks up at her.

“Marion?” they chuckle, and it’s half sad, half resigned. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving her, kid. Not that it changes anything.”

Beau frowns.

“It changes everything.” she exclaims. “I saw the way she was looking at you. She had literal stars in her eyes.”

Dairon snorts.

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, man. What did you guys even do last night?”

Dairon picks the sushi back up, shrugging.

“Talked, mainly. We went for dinner and caught up on our lives.”

Beau bounces on the mattress. She feels way more invested than she’d have any right to be, but this is Dairon. This is the closest person she has to a parent. A good one, at least.

“And?”

Dairon sticks a roll in their mouth and raises an eyebrow.

“And, what?”

“And? You can’t tell me that’s it. No kissing, no making out, no nostalgic fuck on this very same bed?”

Dairon narrows their eyes at her.

“Why must you be so crass.”

Beau pushes them on the shoulder.

“Dairon!”

Dairon rolls their eyes, completely unaffected by Beauregard’s antics.

“Nothing happened, you child. We haven’t seen each other in twenty years. A lot has changed.”

Beau catches on immediately.

“You really think that her feelings have changed? I told you, the way she looks at you, you would think she’d be ready to go grab the moon to put it in your fucking hands.”

Dairon shakes their head, albeit a bit less convinced than before.

“It’s not that easy.”

Beau scoffs, finally getting up to go back to her sushi.

Dairon is too stubborn for this. She’ll have to convince them, one sneaky plan at the time, and she’ll need Jester’s help for this.

“You always make things way harder than necessary.” Beau mutters, grabbing her chopsticks and pointing them obstinately at her mentor.

“You’re one to talk.” Dairon jabs back, finding the remote on their bedside table and finally cutting the conversation short by turning the tv on.

The rest of the week is a whirlwind of preparations, rehearsals and meetings.

Beau and Dairon find themselves surrounded by more people than they’ve ever seen in their whole damn life, but whereas Beau sometimes has to take a moment for herself and step aside, Dairon seems to be navigating it with ease.

Beau has to remind herself that this isn’t their first rodeo, and that fame had accompanied Dairon for a few years after they’d won Eurovision the first time.

She latches onto Dairon’s arm -mainly figuratively, but a couple times also physically- for the whole week.

The first big event is the Semi Final.

The group Beau’s in it with is not too competitive. There are a few bangers, but also several weird songs that Beau is certain will never win.

Dairon talks to her about the competition, sometimes explaining what Beau already knows.

They will go up against eighteen other countries during their night of the Semi Finals. Of the nineteen contestants, only ten will go to play and compete in the Grand Finale.

Beau knows that the list of competitors is drawn to avoid any sort of unfairness, and she is incredibly grateful that she won’t have to compete against any of her friends.

The Somnoven is the only group that Beau knows that will compete the same night as her, but she is not too worried about Mollymauk and their twin.

She spots Molly during rehearsals, and they mutter something about “smashing his fucking head through a window”, which clues Beau in on their relationship with the brother.

Beau doesn’t see her friends for the rest of the week.

Although Molly becomes a constant companion during her lunch breaks, everyone else is either preparing for their own Semi Final on different days, like Jester and Essek, or is automatically counted in for the Grand Finale.

Although she knows that the Big Five - Italy, Germany, France, UK and Spain - and the Host Country are automatically part of the Finale, Beau finds herself conflicted.

She doesn’t exactly miss having to deal with Tony or Avantika, and she’s not all that curious about that Vox Machina band that seems to have stolen the hearts of many.

What she does miss is chit-chatting with Caleb about Lord of the Rings.

What she does miss… is Yasha.

Which is not something Beau wants to dwell on.

She has never felt such a deep connection and a quick attachment to a woman before, and the conversation with Dairon has only opened a can of worms that Beau had not been ready to hold.

Dairon and Marion had fallen apart and away, their hearts shattered into a million pieces simply because they hadn’t been able to conciliate their lives together.

Dairon had had their life in Australia, and Marion in Europe.

Beau has witnessed first hand how comfortable and familiar Yasha is with her life in Stockholm, and she is also very aware of how much she herself wants to travel still.

As much as Beau loves Sweden, it is not a country she wants to settle in.

And as much as Beau likes Yasha… She can’t put aside her own dreams for a woman.

Nor can she ask Yasha to do the same.

Beau remembers being dragged around by ex-girlfriends who had completely disregarded her wishes, ignored her needs and pulled her along for their own convenience.

She doesn’t want to do that to Yasha.

Hell, she doesn’t even want Yasha to choose.

Beau grumpily handles her rehearsals, trying not to think about the day she’ll have to say goodbye to Sweden, to Yasha, and focuses her energies on her music and on Dairon.

She tells herself that if she fixes whatever is going on between Dairon and Marion, maybe she’ll be able to forgive herself for running away from the first person that has managed to make her feel alive in a really long time.

Chapter Text

Part Four

Cobalt Soul ranks third at the first night of Semi Finals.

It’s not that big of a surprise, because Dairon is still a fan favorite, and Beau’s timbre is something that has made her voice known across the globe in a short period of time.

Beau is fully aware she has a fanbase of girls who only want to sleep with her, and she is proud of that.

But when she is on stage, she doesn’t play for the girls.

She doesn’t play for the world either.

She plays for herself, and for the freedom and the childlike joy that making music awakens in her.

Beau’s fingers run on the guitar string like it's a breeze over water, and when she and Dairon are sitting side by side on their stools, singing their hearts out, nothing exists apart from their music.

It’s one of the first things that brought her and Dairon together, their passion for the sound and the complete disregard of everything else.

So when the points come in and Australia is announced as one of the qualified countries for the Grand Finale, Beau isn’t surprised, but she is most certainly proud.

Jester, Fjord and Caleb find her outside her changing room as soon as the broadcast ends.

Jester screams bloody murder in her ear, yelling about how proud she is and how happy she is.

Caleb and Fjord clap their hands on Beau’s shoulder, and Beau finds herself grinning like an idiot.

She can see Dairon shaking their head inside the room, but their smirk is evident even from the door.

“It was so good, Beau.” Jester screeches, before her eyes widen as they see something behind Beau’s shoulder.

They all turn, and Yasha waves awkwardly at all of them, a single weird looking flower in her fingers. Her hair is up in a ponytail and Beau wants to pass her head through a goddamn wall .

“Hey, guys. Beau.”

Beau, Jester’s arm still slung around her neck, districates herself from her friends' hold.

Jester immediately pushes her forward, and Beau stumbles for a few steps before straightening herself up.

“Uh, hi. Hey. Hi.”

She feels really warm all of a sudden, but Yasha extends her hand out and nearly throws the flower at her.

“For you. Um, congratulations.”

Beau notices the soft blush on Yasha’s cheeks only because she is staring so intently at her that the world around them might as fucking well disappear.

“Thank you, Yash.” she murmurs, grabbing the flower and taking a good look at it, if anything to stop staring at the gorgeous woman in front of her wearing nothing but a pair of slacks and a blouse, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows to show off her sleeve tattoo.

The flower is reddish, with weird curves and small spikes, and it looks like nothing Beauregard has ever seen.

“It’s a Celosia.” Yasha informs her awkwardly. “Also known as Brain Flower.”

Beau feels the words slipping out of her mouth before she can stop herself.

“Looks more like a vagina than a brain.”

There is a collective sigh from behind her, and Beau is just about ready to turn and flip all of her friends off when Yasha hums.

“You are right. It does look like a fika .”

They stare at each other for all but three seconds before they start chuckling like two morons.

“Christ, they are made for each other.” Fjord says from behind them, and Beau immediately tenses, the echo of Dairon’s words still burning in the back of her brain.

Before she can do or say anything, though, a new voice joins the mix.

“I guess we had a similar idea.”

The group turns to watch as Marion approaches, a bouquet of blue and red roses in her hands.

The woman is stunning in her evening dress, and Beau’s heart squeezes at the thought of what both her and Dairon had to give up.

Beau knows that it is indeed nobody’s fault, and that life sometimes does get in the way, but she sees the way Marion’s eyes dart from the group of kids to the still open door, and the hope and fear on her face.

Beau grabs Yasha’s wrist and gently drags her with her as she steps aside.

“We, uh…” she starts, throwing a glance at an ecstatic Jester. “We were gonna go to…”

“See Mollymauk.” Jester supplies with a giggle, grabbing both Fjord and Caleb by their arms and dragging them away. “And Essek. And then out for dinner. BYE!”

Yasha looks confused as all hells, and Beau just shakes her head.

“Later.” she promises, and Yasha nods.

Marion throws a grateful look at both of them as they start walking away.

Yasha subtly twists her wrist, the same one Beau is still holding onto, and slips her fingers through Beau’s.

Beau swallows, not able to put a stop to her racing heart.

She knows she should stop this. She knows she should slam on the brakes before this becomes too painful to handle, but she can’t. Not now, not tonight.

So she throws a glance behind her shoulder, where Marion and Dairon are standing at the door of the changing room, leaning towards one another like twenty years have not changed a single thing, and then keeps walking, Yasha’s hand in hers.

They find Mollymauk alone in their changing room, happily lighting a joint.

“Not sure that’s legal, here.” Fjord tries to complain, without much conviction.

Molly smirks and blows some air in his direction.

Yasha closes the door, finally slipping away from Beau.

Beau sees Molly’s eyes on their joined hands a split second before they separate, but they don’t say a word.

“Where’s Lucien?” Caleb asks, on edge.

Nobody likes the guy, but they are all here for Molly, because the Somnoven didn’t qualify and they want to support their friend.

Except their friend doesn’t look all that disappointed.

“Oh, the asshole dumped me here with a few insults as goodbyes and went to the airport.” Molly comments, lifting their feet onto their vanity.

The rest of the group all look at one another.

“And that’s a good thing…?” Beau asks.

Molly nods.

“Yeah, man. He’s an idiot. You cannot imagine how freeing it is to not have him around. Kings and I can just enjoy the rest of our vacation without him putting everyone in a bad mood.”

Caleb finds a chair and moves some clothes off of it before taking a seat.

“So this is not just a regular sibling rivalry?” he asks.

Molly shakes his head, waving at Yasha, who is now standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder.

“No, and she can probably testify to that. Lucien has always been an incredibly mean person. Kings and I stuck around because he’s family, but we are breaking away from him as soon as Eurovision is over. He’s toxic.”

Beau notices the way Yasha’s hand squeezes onto Molly’s shoulder, almost protectively, and she feels a surge of hatred towards Lucien.

“Has he ever touched you or your brother?” she asks, voice low and angry.

Molly turns to look at her.

They stare at her stance, arms crossed and back pressed against the door, for a long moment, before they lean forward and hand her their joint.

“You know how it is.” they say, and Beau does. She knows all too well about abusive family members, about the toxicity of certain people, and she understands that the reason why she will never be able to fully hate Molly is because the two of them are way too similar.

They’re both two equally stubborn people dealing with a world that doesn’t understand them, and they are not quiet about it.

Beau grabs the joint and takes a long puff out of it, rolling her head back against the door and closing her eyes.

She hasn’t smoked weed in a while, but maybe the high can bring some clarity in her messy thoughts.

She ends up giving it back after a moment, while the conversation has picked back up.

Molly doesn’t comment, but Yasha looks at her in a way that leaves Beau feeling vulnerable and safe all at once.

“We should go do something super Swedish before the Grand Finale.” Molly says as they all wobble back to the hotel.

Yasha rolls her eyes and doesn’t comment, but everyone is already on board without even knowing what they’re talking about.

Molly smiles up at Yasha, and when they speak next, Beau feels a chill down her spine that has nothing to do with the cold air of Stockholm.

“Let’s all go to the sauna!”

The second night of Semi Finals runs as smooth as ice, and Jester qualifies for the Grand Finale with a massive amount of support from both the jury and the public.

They all sit around backstage as she performs, and although Dairon hasn’t really told Beau how things are between them and Marion, she can see the way the woman clutches Dairon’s hand as Jester sings.

Beau hides her proud and satisfied smile and doesn’t say a word, but Marion presses her lips to Dairon’s mouth when Jester ranks first at the end of the night, and Beau’s heart soars.

Dairon’s shoulders are less tense, and Beau feels like she’s seeing them for the first time.

There is happiness on Dairon’s face, together with a new confidence. 

Marion, on the other hand, is the happiest Beau’s ever seen her. The woman doesn’t do well with crowded spaces, and Beau knows she’s been working hard to fight her agoraphobia, but the way she anchors herself to Dairon makes it very clear to everyone around them that the two ground each other.

Beau claps and hollers when Jester comes running backstage, and she lets herself be dragged into a group hug.

If anything, at the end of all this, she’ll have them. Her friends, her mentor, and their love.

Molly keeps true to their word, and drags them out of bed at the ass crack of dawn to do some more exploring and, finally, to get to their appointment at the Centralbadet.

They’ve booked them in for a full day of spa, massage, detox and overall wellness treatments, and although Beau likes to complain about how extra they are, she is secretly very thankful.

She carries a lot of tension in her body, and this trip has brought many good things to her, but it has managed to raise her stress levels to an all time record.

Not just because of the Contest, of course, but because of Dairon with their love issues, and Jester with her questions about her mother, and Yasha with… with all that Yasha has brought to her heart.

They meet up in the locker rooms of the Centralbadet, where Yasha and Jester change into one piece swimsuits and Beau into a two piece, her surf shorts being the only swim gear she’s ever owned.

As she fixes the sports bra that she uses as a top piece, she catches Yasha’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

Yasha is supposedly in a conversation with Jester, but her eyes keep moving in Beauregard’s direction.

Beau bites her lip, tilting her head and finally meeting Yasha’s eyes.

Yasha blinks, then immediately refocuses on Jester. Her cheeks blush profusely and Beau can’t help but grin to herself.

Despite the war that is going on between her mind and her heart, she can’t wait to spend some quality time with Yasha and all their friends.

They begin with a vitamin and mineral bath, where Beau manages to nearly fall asleep. The warm water lulls her gently, and she doesn’t slip under water only because Caleb props her head on his shoulder.

The conversation flows easily, and Beau tunes out from it, closing her eyes and letting her body float.

Inside the sauna, Molly drives the conversation, telling all of them about the first time they’d walked into a wellness center.

Beau only half listens, more than content to do an encore of the bath and drift off, but Yasha slides right next to her.

The drowsiness falls away almost instantly.

“Hey.”

She nervously grabs at the towel underneath her, trying to find something to do with her hands.

Yasha throws a glance at the rest of the group before settling with her back against the bench.

“Hi.” she murmurs. “Are you enjoying this?”

Beau nods.“Yeah, man. I honestly can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to relax like this.”

Yasha hums, looking more at ease than any other person in the room.

“I try to do this as often as possible.” she says after a moment. “It really helps. But the sauna is not my favorite.”

Beau, who has felt dizzy since the very first moment she stepped through the door of the sauna but would not admit it even under torture, raises an eyebrow.

“No?”

Yasha shakes her head, lowering her voice so that she doesn’t interrupt Molly’s story.

“I don’t mind sweating, but I like to have a reason behind it. Whether it’s working out or… other physical activities.”

Her eyes meet Beau’s, briefly, as she says that.

If Beau was hot before, now she feels positively on fire.

Yasha sits back on the bench with a satisfied smile, and Beau tries her best to blink and bring back some moisture to her throat.

When Molly announces their time is almost over, she makes a beeline for the door before anyone else can even have the time to stand, and wanders off in search of water.

The group splits to get their massages done, and Beau nearly groans when the masseuse starts rubbing on her shoulders.

It’s a full hour of undisturbed bliss, and Beau’s head clears of every and any worry.

She feels herself floating in nothingness as she breathes and relaxes and lets her body and spirit heal.

They rendezvous in the early afternoon, grabbing a bite in the cafeteria for a light lunch and then dipping back in the waters for an aromatherapy bath. The conversation dips to a minimum as the group decides to tilt their heads back and relax rather than talk.

Beau splits away with Caleb and Fjord to go sit at the barber to fix her undercut and trim her hair, whereas her friends wait their turn to get their beards a more thorough treatment.

When she comes back, she picks up Jester and Yasha to go to their yoga session, and Jester remains suspiciously quiet for the whole duration of it.

Beau notices the way Yasha seems to be wanting to try and start a conversation with her, but every time she decides against it.

Jester wiggles her eyebrows at Beau, to which Beau simply frowns and tilts her head, but Jester continues to behave like a madman without giving anything else away.

It’s only after the end of the session, when they’re all back to the locker rooms and they are getting ready to leave, that Yasha approaches her.

Jester manages to gather everyone else’s attention with one of her stories, and once she does, Yasha shuffles awkwardly next to where Beau is lacing her Converse.

“Hey.”

Beau looks up at her. She glances at the rest of their friends and then back at Yasha, noticing how nervous she seems to be.

Her heart suddenly starts beating a bit faster in anticipation.

“I was thinking…” Yasha murmurs, obstinately looking at her hands. “You mentioned you wanted to check out the Fotografiska Museum, and it’s open late today and tomorrow.”

Beau feels her lips becoming very dry, and she stares at the way Yasha rubs her hands together, almost like she’s trying to work up the courage to…

“Would you… Would you want to go? With me?”

Beau blinks a few times, and she can’t stop herself as she starts nodding furiously.

It goes against every single worried thought she’s had in the past forty eight hours, but she can’t help it.

Yasha’s nervousness is incredibly endearing, and Beau doesn’t know how she could say no to her in the first place.

But the idea of stealing a few more moments with Yasha, without anyone around, without worries, before…

Before the end.

Beau craves a little bit more, and she feels selfish, but she nods.

“I would love that.”

They decide to go to dinner with the group before splitting the party.

Jester continues to act like cupid by getting them to sit next to one another at the restaurant table, and Beau doesn’t know if she wants to strangle her or kiss her on the head and buy her dinner.

But their friends require their attention anyway, and most of the meal is spent reminiscing moments from the past couple of weeks, or exchanging anecdotes from their own private lives.

Beau looks around the table and feels a pang in her heart at the thought of having to leave everything and everyone behind after tomorrow night.

Halfway through the dinner, Yasha turns to look at her and the pang in her chest turns into an even more painful squeeze.

Yasha’s hair is braided on one shoulder. She is wearing the same old tank top and she has some gravy stuck at the corner of her mouth.

She catches Beau’s stare and smiles softly, before going back to the conversation with Molly, and Beau knows right there and then that she’s in love.

They say goodnight to their friends and take the bus to the Museum, which turns out to be empty except for another one or two couples out on date night.

Beau finds herself walking around the place with Yasha’s hand in hers.

The whole place is drowned in darkness, with small, delicate looking lamps to light up the exhibits.

There are photographs of every shape and size, and Beau gets lost in the myriad of corridors and halls.

Yasha whispers the meaning of many of the pictures, reading the captions and the tags underneath them before translating them in English.

It’s a celebration of life, of humanity, of friendship, of love, of human connection in its purest form.

They stop in the Girls on the Move exhibit when Yasha points out a picture of a little girl with a backpack slung over her shoulder.

“That one’s beautiful.”

Her voice is barely louder than a whisper, and Beau turns to look at her, seeing the same wonder she hears in her voice reflected on Yasha’s face.

Yasha bites her lip and glances back at her.

“Beautiful.” Beau echoes, feeling a lump of emotions in her throat.

The soft lights of the room are barely bright enough to let her see a step of distance away, but as it turns out, Yasha is much closer than that.

“Yasha…”

Yasha’s hands grip the hems of Beau’s jacket, and they are standing one in front of the other in the absolute darkness of the room.

Beau can feel Yasha’s warm breath on her lips, and she glances from Yasha’s eyes down to her lips and back.

Yasha’s nose nudges the tip of hers, and Beau feels like her heart might explode out of her chest.

Her fingers clutch Yasha’s waist, just as Yasha’s palms skim over her shoulders to gently cup the sides of her neck.

“Beauregard…”

Her name is murmured with an intensity that rocks Beau to the very core.

It’s the same intensity to which Dairon has talked about Marion, only a few nights ago.

The same intensity Fjord has in his gaze when he’s looking at Jester.

The same intensity of her feelings for Yasha.

Feelings that bring a wind of promises, of what ifs.

Yasha’s lips are a whisper away from hers when Beau tilts her head to the side.

“I- I can’t.” she stutters.

Yasha blinks in surprise and hurt, and Beau tears herself away from her.

“I’m sorry, I-”

Yasha’s hands fall back on her sides, and Beau sees her fingers twitching before Yasha drives them inside the pockets of her jacket. Beau has seen her do it way too many times not to know that this is Yasha’s defensive stance.

“No, it’s… It’s alright.”

It’s not alright. Yasha’s voice breaks and Beau wants to literally stick her hand in her own chest and rip her heart out.

Suddenly, she feels like she can’t breathe.

It’s for the better, she keeps telling herself as she takes a step back.

“I’m sorry.”

Better break it off now, better make it so it never happens.

She turns around, trying to ignore the way Yasha’s shoulder slump down, or the way her head ducks.

It’s for the better, because Beau can’t fall any more in love than she already is.

She can’t, because she’ll lose it all by tomorrow night anyway.

At least this will be on her terms.

She reaches the door of the room where the exhibit is held before she starts running.

She manages to get out of the museum and she’s grateful for the late hour, because no one is there to watch as she runs until she’s out of breath, as her Converse slam against the wood of the docks.

Beau reaches the end of the platform and releases a scream, a prolonged howl of agony and rage.

She folds back onto herself, sobbing quietly with only the moon as a witness.

She hates herself.

Not for the pain she’s inflicted on herself, because that’s something she’s used to. Something she can bounce back from.

She’s furious at the idea she’s drawn Yasha into this mess, that she’s let her see all her good sides without ever letting her realize how bad Beau would have been for her.

Yasha is pure, Yasha is good, and Beau doesn’t deserve her.

And even if she did, she could never put Yasha in front of a choice like that. Between staying or leaving her home…

She’s seen what it did to Marion and Dairon, and she doesn’t wish it on anybody, let alone Yasha Nydoorin.

Beau loves her too much already to do this to her.

As she dries the tears away from her face, rubbing her sleeve under her nose, she plucks her phone from her back pocket.

She scrolls through her contacts until she finds the one she’s looking for, and presses the green button to start a call.

Mita answers nearly immediately.

Beau clears her voice.

“Hey.” she murmurs. “Can I come over?”

Chapter Text

Part Five

The sun hasn’t even fully risen from behind the mountains when Mita comes kicking her off the couch.

Beau grunts and shields her eyes from the dim light filtering through the open window.

“What.”

Mita raises one eyebrow at her.

“Are you going to stay here all day, or you think you’ll want to get ready for the Final?”

Beau groans and kicks the blanket away.

“Shit. Yeah. Fuck.”

Mita is already dressed, whereas Beau is still in her clothes from the night before.

Mita had offered to share the bed with her, but Beau had felt too guilty already, barging into her new friend’s house to ask her to crash at her place.

“Not really my place.” Mita had told her when Beau had tried to apologize, the night before. “It’s just the AirBnB Alexander has rented for us.”

Beau dozes off, and when she wakes again the sun is high in the sky.

Beau follows the smell of fresh bacon to the kitchen, where both Mita and Alexander are standing, bickering amiably like old friends.

Alexander shoots her a look, before raising an eyebrow towards Mita, who shakes her head with a fond smile.

“Not everyone finds a fuck buddy on every single Eurovision they go to, Alexander.” Mita chuckles.

Alexander waves his hand around, dramatically.

“You could have any girl you want. You just choose not to.”

Mita shrugs, pushing a mug full of steaming tea underneath Beau’s nose.

“They’re somehow always taken.”

Beau doesn’t look up, throat still burning from the crying and the screaming, feeling like ‘taken’ is too big and yet too small of a word to describe her, right now.

“Drink up.” Mita tells her, putting eggs and bacon on four different plates. “It’ll do wonders for your voice. You need to be at your best, today.”

Beau barely registers the fact that there’s only three people standing in the kitchen, and four servings of breakfast being prepared, before a voice chimes in from behind her.

“Beau?!”

She whirls around on her stool, staring at a freshly showered Mollymauk, standing at the bottom of the stairs with just a towel wrapped around their waist.

“Uh.” It's all Beau can muster.

She looks back at Alexander, who is innocently sipping at his coffee without looking up from his phone.

“Nope.” she says after a few seconds of pure shock. “Not doing this right now.”

She grabs the mug from the counter and beelines past Mollymauk, following the steam to go lock herself in the bathroom.

Only after she rinses off the sweat and tears from the night before, Beau makes her way downstairs. She finds a change of clothes outside the door, and suspects Mita probably raided Alexander’s closet in order to find something suitable.

She is grateful for her, and she is grateful Alexander seems to be a similar size to her own.

The faux leather pants are a bit too extra for her taste, but the blouse and vest actually work wonderfully.

Mollymauk is already dressed when she gets downstairs, and she simply sits next to them at the counter, starting to wolf down her breakfast.

“Thank you, Mita.” she mutters, and she wishes she could tell her how grateful she actually is.

Mita winks at her from where she’s sitting on Alexander’s lap.

He frowns at something he’s found on his phone, and holds it out for her to see.

Beau side glances at Molly, finding that they’re already staring at her.

“I must admit, I did not think I was going to see you here.” they say, and there’s a hint of anger in their voice.

Considering their relationship to Yasha, Beau thinks she knows why that might be.

“I slept on the couch.” she says, flatly.

Mollymauk flinches, probably not expecting that as an answer.

“Ah.” They murmur, then tilt their head. “Then what-”

Molly’s phone rings.

They pick it up, flipping it from where it’s sitting on the counter, and their frown deepens.

“Jester?” they read out loud, confusion on their face.

Beau swallows her bite of bacon and looks at the smiling picture of her best friend on Molly’s screen.

“Why is Jester calling yo-”

Beau’s phone starts ringing.

Molly’s eyes widen, as dread expands in Beau’s chest and starts sinking in her stomach.

Beau lifts her phone to see Dairon’s name on the screen, and she and Molly hit their screens at the same time.

As Dairon’s voice starts speaking in her ear, Beau faintly registers Mita getting up from her spot.

“Grab the keys, Alexander.” she says, and her voice is dark. “Now.”

They let Beauregard drive.

She’s not only the best driver, but also the most reckless one, which means they manage to cut the travel time in almost half with the amount of red lights she crosses.

“Are you going to tell me what happened between you two?” Molly tries to ask as Beau drifts through traffic like she’s in some sort of Fast & Furious movie.

Beau’s jaw clenches and she doesn’t respond.

“Yasha adores you, Beau.” Molly continues, grabbing onto the door and pressing their foot on the dashboard to keep themselves from being shaken around too much.

Mita and Alexander are trying their best not to puke their breakfast right on the backseat of their rental.

“I know.” Beau grits through her teeth.

“Then what happened last night?”

Beau jerks the steering wheel at the very last moment, managing to avoid a group of bicycles as she speeds past another traffic light.

“Nothing happened.” she answers after a moment. “I left.”

Mollymauk turns to look at her like she’s grown three heads at once.

“Why?!”

“Because!” 

Her voice raises in hurt and frustration as she desperately tries to cling to the hope that everything is actually okay, that Yasha is okay…

“I am going back to Australia, Molly. To my job, and my life. Jester and Fjord are talking about moving there as well. And I can’t just ask Yasha to follow, to leave her home. We just met.”

“Who the fuck cares when you two met?” Molly screeches, and it would be hilarious if the situation wasn’t so dire. “Have you even asked her?”

She hasn’t.

Of course, she hasn’t.

Because if she doesn’t, at least she has the comfort of thinking, hoping, that there is a universe where things could turn out well for her. Where Yasha might say yes.

If she doesn’t, she’ll never have to suffer through getting her heart shattered into a million pieces.

“No. Now will you shut up ?”

The car’s brakes shriek as they skid to a stop in front of the Avicii Arena.

“Go.” Alexander says, shakily, from the backseat. “We’ve got the car. Go.”

Both Molly and Beau fly out of the car and start running towards the staff entrance, ignoring the screams and the howls of the fans.

They round the Arena to the back entrance, and Beau feels a cold chill running down her spine when she sees several police cars parked haphazardly on the sidewalk.

They both get stopped at the entrance, and that’s when they realize they do not have their passes on them.

They look at each other with growing panic on their faces when Dairon’s voice booms from behind the guard.

“They’re with me.”

The guard looks like he might want to put up a fight, but the glare that Dairon shoots his way makes him do a quick one-eighty.

He steps aside and Beau and Molly nearly crash into each other in the haste.

“What happened?” Beau asks immediately, as Dairon waves their pass around to guide them through the corridors.

“Not sure.” They mutter, darkly. “Marion and I got here early to figure a few things out, and we heard screams coming from the Orphanmakers changing room, then commotion. Marion called security, and we’ve been kept at distance since they arrived.”

Dairon throws a glance at Beau.

“You didn’t come back to the hotel last night.”

Beau’s jaw clenches.

“I stayed with a friend.”

They round the corner, and every other response is drowned by the murmuring of all the competitors who have gathered outside Yasha’s changing room.

A hand touches hers, and before she knows it Molly’s holding it tight.

“Is Yasha alright?” they ask, and Dairon shrugs helplessly.

“I don’t know, kid.” they look at Beauregard, and she can see the worry written all over their face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

Beau tries to swallow the bile in her throat, and watches as Marion Lavorre emerges from the crowd, hands extended out to find Dairon’s.

The two hold each other in an embrace, and Marion looks so small without her heels, in simple jeans and a blouse instead of her usual dresses.

“The police are still investigating.” Marion tells them. “The girl seems to be okay, but the jury is discussing whether or not they want to delay the show.”

Dairon takes a deep breath in and Beau starts pulling Mollymauk along, as she squeezes in through the crowd to try and get closer to the Orphanmakers ‘ changing room.

Jester and Fjord wave at them from the first row, and they reach for them.

Nobody knows what is going on, and Beau holds Jester closer to her chest, feeling her best friend shaking in worry.

Molly doesn’t leave her hand, and they resign to stand back and wait.

The hours tick by agonizingly slowly.

Beau’s whole body shakes and tenses, and the other competitors eventually scatter to go get ready, since no news has come that the show might be delayed or cancelled.

Everyone except for their group of friends.

After the fifth time Caleb says “Nein.” when the security team asks them to leave, the guards sigh and start calling them the Nein .

Jester turns her head around to look at all of them and then chuckles, sadly.

“What is it?” Fjord murmurs.

Jester shrugs.

“If we count Yasha, there’s actually nine of us.”

Beau clenches her jaw and doesn’t respond.

Molly’s hand squeezes hers.

The Eurovision Song Contest begins, and Jester has to step away to go perform, but Essek and Caleb remain with Beau and Molly and wait.

Finally, after what feels like forever, but it’s only another hour of closed-door investigations, the door of the changing room opens and half a dozen policemen walk out, dragging three people away  in handcuffs.

Beau recognizes Obann, as well as two more of Yasha’s bandmates.

Before anyone can stop them, both Beau and Mollymauk duck underneath the extended arms of the security guards and make a run for the door.

Beau faintly registers the few screams and warnings, but she doesn’t care.

She bursts through the door, and the first thing she notices is the state of absolute chaos the room is in.

There are clothes scattered everywhere across the floor, a couple curtains have been ripped, and the cases of every single instrument have been opened and taken apart.

In the midst of all that mess, Yasha sits with her face in her hands, the shining glass of a shattered vanity mirror right behind her.

Molly crouches in front of her, cautiously skimming their fingers over her knees.

“Yasha, darling?” they murmur. “Are you alright?”

Yasha stretches her neck out left and right, taking a deep breath as her gaze settles on Molly.

“Hi, Molly.” she says, and her voice is small and tired.

Beau swallows more anger and fear and frustration, but doesn’t move from where she’s standing under the door frame.

The security guards outside the door seem to decide that there is very little they can do at this point and start to scatter.

“Are you alright?” Beau repeats, and Yasha briefly looks up at her before refocusing on Molly.

Beau doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that goes through Yasha’s face when she does.

She clenches her jaw. She deserves it.

“Baby, what happened?” Molly prompts gently, almost like they’re fearing Yasha could fall apart if they spoke too loud.

Yasha shrugs helplessly, palms rubbing at her eyes once more.

“Not sure, if I have to be completely honest with you.” she admits. “I came back here last night to pick up my notebooks… I wanted to work on my new song... but Obann was here and he was… Particularly intoxicated. More than usual. Everyone else too, but he was… Aggressive. Again, more than normal.”

She straightens up her spine, closing her eyes for a long moment, almost like she’s trying to shake something away from her brain.

“We argued. The usual things, really. He doesn’t want me to leave, and he’s been trying to sabotage me for the past year but-”

“Wait. Leave?” Beau interjects before she can help herself.

Yasha finally turns to look at her, and her face betrays no emotion.

“Yes. I’ve been wanting to go solo for a while.” she pauses, swallows, then continues. “I’ve been in Sweden my whole life, and I love my country, but I want to travel. Live my life.”

Her eyes hold Beau’s for a long moment, and Beau feels her stomach roll up into a ball and squeeze.

She is such an idiot.

“So he brought it up again?” Molly insists, bringing the focus back on the matter at hand. “About you wanting to leave the band?”

Yasha tilts her head, her fingers nervously finding Molly’s.

“Some of that. But a lot of it was just… Harsh words, to put it mildly. I left after a while, and then I came back early this morning. I barely stepped foot inside before the Polisen barged in. Turns out, Obann has been dealing drugs for the past few months, and a few of the competitors have already pressed charges against him for… Sexual assault and the like.”

Beau has to lean on the doorframe, and she has the feeling Molly is just about ready to pass out as well, if the way they slump down on the floor is any indication.

Beau’s nails dig into her palms.

“Did he touch you?” she says, and she can’t avoid the anger and the disgust from seeping into her voice.

Yasha looks up at her and, for the first time since she’s entered the changing room, Beau doesn’t feel like Yasha might hate her.

“No.” she murmurs. “I thought he might have been close a few times, but he… I think he might have been afraid of me, at least a bit.”

“Afraid of you ?” Beau repeats, surprised. “How can anyone be afraid of you?”

At that, Yasha almost smiles.

That simple gesture warms Beau’s heart in a way that she can’t even begin to describe.

“I can pack a mean punch.” Yasha whispers, and there’s a hint of pride there.

Silence falls in the room for a moment, during which Molly grabs Yasha’s hand in theirs and kisses the back of it.

“We were so worried about you.” they say to her, and Yasha glances back at Beauregard before turning to Molly.

“I’m sorry.” she responds in earnest. “They wouldn’t let me leave until they managed to piece everything together, and they needed to make sure I wasn’t involved with them. Not that it matters, now.”

Beau, who still hasn’t managed to move from her spot next to the door, frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“The band is gone, Beau. Not exactly in the way I imagined.”

She points at the screen in the top corner of the room, where the Eurovision Song Contest is playing, on mute.

They’re halfway through the list of competitors, at this point, and Beau realizes it will be both hers and Yasha’s turn soon.

“How am I supposed to go on stage without the band?”

Molly clears their voice. They finally pick themselves up from the floor, and carefully move a few pieces of glass from the vanity before leaning against it.

“They might just skip Sweden and send an ad of some sort.” they suggest. “I don’t think they’d want the world to know more than you do.”

Yasha nods, staring at her own hands, and that’s when Beau feels the rage and the frustration and the pain of her own choices reach a boiling point.

“That’s it?” she spits out. “You are just going to give up?”

Yasha’s head whips around to look at her.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it is not up to me, Beauregard. It never was.”

Beau immediately catches the hint.

They’re not only talking about Eurovision anymore.

“You are not even fighting for it.” she says, crossing and uncrossing her arms.

Yasha slowly raises to her feet and straightens up to her full height.

“Fighting for it?” she echoes. “What is there left to fight for, tell me? Everyone making decisions for me... All that has happened… It’s always been out of my control.”

Beau wants to punch her and wants to punch herself.

But punching Yasha would not be fair at all because she doesn’t deserve it, whereas punching herself would solve absolutely nothing except for doubling her pain.

And as much as she knows she deserves it, this is not the moment.

She can nurse her broken heart another time.

Because it’s not about her. It never was, after all.

It’s about Yasha, and giving her what she wants and what she deserves. It’s about finally stopping to listen instead of making assumptions.

And Beau really wants to stop and listen, this time, in more ways than one.

“Then take it back , Yasha.” she tells her. “You told me this was never the way you imagined singing this song anyway. And isn’t the song about taking back your power? Regaining control? Then go out there and do it.”

Beau only faintly registers Molly staring at her, because the intensity of Yasha’s gaze is enough to completely obfuscate the rest of the world.

Yasha takes a deep breath, and Beau can see her hands shaking.

“As much as it physically pains me to admit it, darling…” Molly murmurs. “Beau is right.”

Beau smirks at them, and they flip her the finger.

Yasha brushes her hair back with both hands, nervously licking her dry lips.

“I only have my voice.” she whispers.

“And it’s beautiful.” Beau supplies, earning herself a quick glance and a blush over Yasha’s cheeks.

“They’re going to kick me off stage the moment they see I don’t have the band with me.” she tries again.

Molly shrugs.

“Then they’ll kick you off stage. But at least let it be on your terms. Not Obann’s, not theirs, yours.”

Beau hums.

“They might not.” she adds. “You’re technically not changing the song. The song remains the same, you’re just changing the way you’re singing it.”

Yasha wrings her hands together, eyes bouncing between Beau and Molly and back.

Molly steps towards her, and Beau wishes she had enough courage to do the same.

They gently separate her hands with theirs, bringing them to their lips to kiss her knuckles.

“Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith, my love.” they whisper.

Yasha blinks in their direction, then looks up to find Beau.

“Give ‘em hell, Yash.” Beau can’t help but murmur, and Yasha nods.

Chapter Text

Grand Final

Molly runs out to go find Marion, in order to borrow one of the many dresses she keeps in Jester’s changing room, while Beau rushes to hunt down any PA that could help put her in touch with the organizer.

When she finds one, she explains that Yasha will perform the regular song, and pleads with them to not run any commercials during Sweden’s time slot.

The PA busies themselves with a walkie talkie for a handful of minutes before they nod back at Beau and raise their thumb in her direction.

Beau makes her way back to the changing room to warn her friends, and finds the door shut. She presses her ear against it and hears both Molly and Yasha’s laughter.

She sighs, turning to lean against the wall, rolling her head back and closing her eyes.

She’s been so stupid.

In her haste of protecting her own heart she’d fed into her self sacrificing tendencies, without even stopping to think that Yasha might have had a plan of her own.

Beau doesn’t think she’s ever met anyone who might have wanted to have something serious and long lasting with her, and having felt that intensity from Yasha had scared her.

She knows she’ll have to talk to Yasha about it, but right now her brain is racing a mile a minute, thinking what the world might think of Yasha walking alone on stage.

Beau is fully aware of how judgemental their industry is, and she hopes she hasn’t contributed on pushing Yasha to a career suicide.

Before she can think of anything else, the door of the changing room opens and Yasha steps through.

Marion’s dresses are usually long on the woman, resulting in a train of flowing fabrics, but Yasha is much taller than Ms. Lavorre.

The white evening dress reaches Yasha’s ankles, grazing the pale skin of her bare feet. 

The corset is loose, and Yasha’s arms are left sleeveless.

Yasha’s hair is resting in soft waves on her shoulders, framing her clean face in a way that makes Beau want to scream and kiss the woman in front of her.

Yasha is positively stunning.

“Wow.” is all Beau can say.

Yasha smiles at her, rubbing her palms together.

“I have to go but… Thank you.” she tells her, and Beau shakes her head. She really has nothing to thank her for.

Yasha steps away, rushing to find her PA in order to get the microphone and the in-ear monitor.

Not that she’ll need it, really, but it’s all for show.

Molly leans on the door frame, watching Yasha walk away.

“Do you think it’s going to work?” Beau asks, anxiously rolling the sleeves of her blouse up to her elbows.

“We shall see, I guess.” Molly mutters, before side glancing at her. “You know, when I said that thing about taking a leap of faith…”

Beau turns to look at them.

“I wasn’t just talking to her.”

Beau blinks. Once, twice.

“What do you mea-”

“Beauregard. I will say it now because there is nobody around to witness it, but I think you’re a really smart woman.” Molly grins. “So maybe figure your shit out, and do it quick.”

They push away from the door and saunter away, and Beau gapes for a solid second before her feet start moving.

Beau manages to squeeze her way to the back of the stage, where all the competitors have gathered to witness what Sweden is about to do.

There is murmuring across the small crowd, and Beau pushes herself through to find Dairon and Marion leaning against one another, talking quietly amongst themselves.

“Dai.” Beau huffs, popping up right beside them.

“Beauregard?” Dairon turns around, frowning.

“Yeah, uhm… Question.” she breathes out, shakes her head and laughs. “How much do you care about winning this contest?”

Dairon’s left eyebrow lifts so high up that if they had any hair, it would disappear through the hairline.

“Are you going to get us disqualified?” they ask after a long moment, completely unsurprised.

Beau nods.

“Possibly.”

Dairon sighs and shakes their head, but it’s all for show. Beau can see the way Marion is smiling right behind them, and Beau suspects she knows exactly what is going through both Beau and Dairon’s heads.

A few feet away from them, Yasha is stepping on stage, and the crowd -both outside and backstage- finally quiets.

Beau watches as Yasha walks to the middle of the stage, microphone in hand, and her heart somersaults.

“As long as you make it a good show.” Dairon mutters, eyes trained on Yasha. “Do whatever you need to do.”

Beau can’t help the grin that splits her face. She grabs Dairon’s head in her hands and smacks a kiss on their temple, to which Dairon grimaces and growls.

And that’s when Yasha starts singing.

Yasha’s voice is angelic, and there is no other way Beau would be able to describe it.

There is softness to it, and a vibrato that never transpired in the original song.

A song that was all screams and hard rock, completely different from the ethereal, slow pace that this version has.

Yasha’s voice carries through the crowd, and Beau sees the confusion and the outrage starting to spread through the organizer as they watch from the back of the stage.

She doesn’t stop to see what they might do.

On stage, Yasha hesitates, and stops singing for a moment. She picks up again, but her voice shakes, and she looks behind her towards the back of the stage.

Beau looks around, finally finding what she’s looking for.

She hauls ass towards Vox Machina, to the small guy who seems to be rocking a one man band on his person.

“Hey. Can I borrow this?” she asks him, pointing at one of his instruments.

The guy raises an eyebrow.

The white haired woman next to him elbows him in the side.

“Scanlan, give it to her!” she whispers, and he rolls his eyes then unhooks the violin from its latch and passes it to Beau.

The woman with white hair steps forward to grab the amp, and all three work quickly and expertly to connect the acoustic pick up and the amplifier to the violin and Beau’s belt.

They’re all here for a show, after all, and Beau winks at them before she turns towards the stage.

The last thing she hears before starting to make a run for it is the white haired woman saying, real loud: “This one’s hot.”

She finds herself grinning, and just as Yasha lowers her microphone in a dejected move, Beauregard Lionett steps on the Eurovision Song Contest stage.

The lights of the cameras are almost blinding, but Beau pushes everything to the very back of her mind.

Yasha, as she is turning to leave the stage, stops dead in her tracks.

“Beau?!” she breathes out. “What are you doing ?”

Beau places the violin on her shoulder, resting her chin on it.

“Giving you your song.” she answers, simply.

Yasha’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to get disqualified!”

Beau grins, and shrugs, raising her bow and placing it on the strings.

“Ride or die, baby.” she tells her, and her smile turns more genuine, more sincere.

Yasha blinks, disbelief written all over her face, and Beau notices how her shoulders roll back, and how a determined resolution starts to spread all over her features. She smiles back.

“Here we go.” Beau whispers to herself, and nods at Yasha.

She tilts the bow and presses down, drawing the first few notes out of the violin.

Beau knows the song. She’s listened to it more times than she’d ever admit, and she has warmed up more than once by playing it on her guitar.

But her guitar had never been her first love.

Despite the hatred she always felt towards her parents, despite how spiteful she was during the violin lessons, Beauregard loves the instrument. Always has, always will.

If she thinks she knows how to play the guitar, then she knows she has mastered the violin.

She doesn’t even have to think about it, because her fingers move expertly and flawlessly from one string to the next, and her elbow raises and tilts and swings to give the bow the proper pressure, the perfect flow.

She breathes out, and that’s when Yasha starts to sing again.

It’s nothing different from what she just did, a minute ago, and yet it’s a completely different song altogether.

Yasha sounds more certain, less shaky, more grounded.

There is nervousness below the surface, but it does nothing to mask how absolutely gorgeous Yasha’s voice sounds.

Yasha throws a last glance at Beau, eyes brimming in happiness and shock, before turning to face the audience, who is now completely enraptured by whatever is going on on stage.

Beau tilts her head to look at what is happening backstage, and she catches a glimpse of the Nein standing in a line, physically shielding the PAs and security from accessing the stage.

When Jester shifts, Beau sees Dairon and Marion engaged in an inaudible conversation with the head of security.

Beau grins, instinctively.

If there’s someone who is going to make sure this all goes through, those people are Marion Lavorre and her Dairon.

Beau turns back towards Yasha, who has now stepped forward, finding her light, microphone clutched in one hand and the other pressed against her own chest.

Yasha’s eyes are closed, and her voice carries through the arena like flowing water in a river, like a breeze in the woods.

The whole world watches with Beau as Yasha sings her story, her own song, telling of a girl who has finally regained her power, who is finally in control of her own life.

Beau swallows the lump in her throat and realizes how stupid she’s been to think that she could ever leave Yasha behind.

To think she could ever run from this.

The notes of the violin carry the song through the last chorus before the bridge, and she doesn’t even have to look at Yasha to know she needs to do this part on her own.

As the chorus fades to a close, Beau tilts her bow and plays the last note, volume dimming slightly until it disappears.

Yasha grabs the microphone with both hands, and takes a deep breath.

She takes the leap.

“ This is the last time.. .”

Beau lowers the violin, and witnesses as Yasha finally spreads her wings to fly free.

“ I will forget you… ”

Free from Obann, free from obligations, free to do whoever she wants.

“ This is the last time… ”

Free to love, free to hate, free to go where her feet take her.

Beau takes a shaky breathe in, fingers trembling slightly as she brings the bow back to the strings, ready to pick up for the final chorus, the final stretch of the song.

That’s when Yasha turns to look for her.

Their eyes meet, and Yasha smiles. It’s a small smile, away from the cameras, a smile that’s only for her.

Yasha reaches out for her with a hand, and Beau takes a step forward as her fingers move on their own accord, picking up where they left off.

“ Let hope burn in your eyes .”

Yasha almost murmurs in the microphone, and Beau feels it in her bones.

She takes another step forward, and she’s in the spotlight.

It’s just the two of them, blinding lights hiding the rest of the world, and all Beau can see is Yasha.

“ We’ll take it slow .”

Beau breathes out, and Yasha’s fingers graze her side.

“ We’ll make the most of it. ”

Beau smiles.

This is right. This is how it’s supposed to be.

“ I have the power now .”

Beau’s hand drops to her side, just as Yasha’s does the same, microphone still in her fingers.

It’s just a moment, a breath of an instant, in which time stops.

It freezes.

All the steps they’ve taken that have brought them there, on that stage, staring at a white light next to one another, hang above their heads.

Like a lifetime flashing in front of a dying person’s eyes, Beau stands and remembers every stupid mistake she’s made since she landed in this country, and realizes she would do all of them all over again, if that meant listening to Yasha regaining control of her life and her voice in the way she’s just witnessed.

But like it always happens, time pushes forward, and what was silence turns into a roar.

What was a stunned shock morphs into energy, into a crowd of thousands shouting for Yasha’s name, for Beau’s name even, in a cacophony of screams and hands clapping with force.

The audience shouts their love and their approval, and Beau releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Or maybe she did. She’s always felt like she was holding her breath for something.

She looks up at Yasha, just as Yasha turns to look at her.

“You’re going to get disqualified.” it’s all Yasha says, and her voice shakes from the adrenaline and the shock and the simmering happiness beneath it all.

“I don’t care.” Beau says, and it’s true. She doesn’t. She never played music for the world, anyway.

“What do you care about, then?” Yasha asks, and really, they shouldn’t be doing this on stage, in front of millions of people, but Beau doesn’t care.

She’s never cared for many things, but this? Yasha? This one she does.

“You?” she says, even if it sounds more like a question. “I don’t want to run anymore. I shouldn’t have in the first place.”

Yasha’s thumb skims over Beau’s cheekbone, and Beau leans into her touch, pressing her cheek into Yasha’s palm.

There’s a world around them, and yet it feels like she’s on top of it instead, with Yasha.

It doesn’t take much after that, because Beau lifts up on her toes, and Yasha meets her halfway.

Later, Beau will have to admit that the howls of the crowd was probably what made it feel like the world exploded, but in that moment, in that instant stolen from everyone else around them, Beau kisses Yasha and Yasha kisses Beau and it’s just the two of them.

For an instant, for just a split second of an eternity, it’s just them.

And Yasha is soft. Her mouth is soft and the way she kisses her is soft.

Beau is all hard edges, her lips are chapped and she bites on Yasha’s tongue almost jokingly, resulting in a series of chuckles from the both of them.

Yasha presses her forehead against hers and gently caresses Beau’s face, without really knowing that the image is what will end up making the rounds of many different tabloids across Europe in the span of a few hours.

Beau hums, happily.

“I think I love you.” Yasha says, and Beau smiles.

“I know I love you .” she replies, and Yasha laughs.

A full, real, free laugh.

Cobalt Soul gets disqualified, although they are granted the possibility to perform during their allocated time slot.

Beau could not care less, and Dairon takes the news like someone had just told them the weather forecast instead.

They shrug and take a sip from their water bottle and turn away from the PA who just carried the news.

The Orphanmakers also suffer from the jury’s judgement, and although Yasha didn’t effectively change the song, they end up ruling her song out of the competition anyway, since she took longer than three minutes to perform it.

The crowd roars in disapproval when the decision is announced, but it matters very little.

Stockholm Syndrome , Yasha’s song, becomes the number one song of Eurovision, even after Tricksters ends up winning the whole competition.

Yasha apologizes to Jester many times, but Jester refuses every single one of them, deciding to hug Yasha instead until Yasha’s frown turns upside down.

The Nein end up spending the Sunday together before everyone has to catch a flight to go back home, and Beau catches a glimpse of Dairon whispering something to Jester as they all walk towards the restaurant for dinner.

Beau buries her face in Yasha’s chest and forgets about it entirely.

It’s only at the end of the night, when Molly and Beau are bickering about which dessert they should pick, that Dairon gets up from their chair and then crouches next to Marion on their knee.

As silence falls abruptly around the table, Dairon opens their mouth to speak, and Marion says “Yes.” without even listening to what Dairon has to say.

Fjord has to slap a hand in front of Jester’s mouth to prevent her from screeching, and Beau has to swallow a hard lump in her throat as she watches Dairon laugh happily before they duck their head, pressing their forehead on Marion’s thigh.

Marion leans forward to kiss the back of Dairon’s head.

“Everywhere you go, I go, darling.” Marion whispers. “I have waited twenty years to call you mine again, and I never want to stop.”

The rest of the night is a blur of celebrations, of hugs and kisses and friendship and love.

Beau notices the way Caleb closes his eyes to rest his head on Essek’s shoulder.

She watches as Fjord and Jester lean towards one another with stars in their eyes.

She laughs with everyone else as Veth and Yeza banter lovingly when Luc asks to light up fireworks outside.

She catches Dairon’s gaze from across the table before Marion claims their attention again, and Dairon smiles softly and nods at her.

Beau nods back, proud and happy for them.

She doesn’t even have to turn to feel the love radiating from Yasha, her hand drawing mindless patterns on her thigh.

Yasha leans towards her.

“Let’s not wait twenty years before getting our shit together.” Beau tells her, and Yasha chuckles.

“Agreed.”

Beau and Yasha are the first to leave the table. They excuse themselves and promise to meet everyone for breakfast for the goodbyes, and their hands intertwine as they leave the restaurant.

“Where to?”

Yasha seems to stop to think for half a second before she starts tugging Beau through the streets of Stockholm.

They end up slowly pacing through the Monteliusvägen, a narrow path clutching the high sides of Södermalm island. Strolling around the area, Beau knows she should be paying attention to the magnificent view, but she can’t take her eyes off of Yasha.

It takes a handful of minutes of silently debating what to ask next, but finally Beau manages to blurt out a: “Now, what?”

Yasha sighs.

“Now we talk, and we listen.”

Beau chuckles at that, knowing she hasn’t done a very good job with that in the past.

“Alright.” she murmurs. “What do you want, Yash?”

“I want out.” Yasha responds, immediately. “I want out of here. I want to see a bit of the world, catch a plane, sleep in a tent, do all these things I never did.”

Beau nods, encouragingly.

“And I want you. I want to be with you, wherever you are.”

Beau chews on her lower lip for a few moments, before sighing.

“I have business in Sydney.” she mutters. “I can’t leave that behind. Not now, at least.”

It’s Yasha’s turn to nod.

“I know. But eventually?”

Beau hates how hopeful she sounds, because she wants to hope, too.

She wants to believe that this is actually going to work out, and she doesn’t know if it will.

And on top of it all, there are dreams she never even stopped to consider.

“I want to travel, too, Yasha.” she admits. “I’ve only been to a few places, but I want to see more, and know more. At the same time, I want to continue to make music.”

Beau shakes her head.

“I feel greedy. I want all of this, and I want you. Music, knowledge, travel, and love. No one should be allowed to want and have all of that.”

Yasha clicks her tongue.

“I think everyone should be allowed to want and have all of that.” she counters, squeezing Beau’s hand. “You are allowed to want things for yourself.”

Beau laughs, and it’s a bit wet.

Except for Dairon and, in her own way, Jester, she never had someone there to support her the way Yasha is doing.

“When I was singing…” Yasha starts, a bit hesitant. “I wasn’t lying. I want to take it slow, and I want to hope that we’re going to make it work. But I have the power, now, to make my own decisions.”

Beau side eyes her, catching the way the last rays of the sun reflect on Yasha’s pale skin.

She can see the wheels turning in Yasha’s head, as Yasha scrunches up her nose in focused determination.

“So what if you go back to Sydney?” she murmurs, sounding like she’s much further away with her thoughts. “What if I follow you there, roam around Australia and Indonesia for a while.”

Beau’s heart starts beating faster.

“It’ll take as long as it will take, and once you are happy, once you are satisfied, we can go away. Travel. See the world. Make music. Together or on our own, it doesn’t matter.”

There’s a path unfolding in front of their very eyes, and Beau feels choked up at how clear it seems to be.

“We see the world, and we visit our friends, and if we find a place we want to settle in, we do.”

Beau licks her lips, suddenly very dry.

“I mean, I do have savings aside.” she offers, and even her voice feels choked up.

Yasha stops and turns to look at her.

“I do, too.”

The sun is setting behind Yasha’s shoulders, and Beau finds an odd sense of comfort being shielded away from it.

She finds Yasha’s eyes, and there is a lot of determination in them.

“There’s a lot of ‘what ifs’ in there.” she points out, and Yasha smiles, almost mischievously.

“I know.” she nods. “And it’s not going to be easy.”

Beau snorts.

“Fuck easy. Easy is boring.”

Yasha laughs, arms encircling Beau’s waist to drag her closer.

“Seems about right.”

Beau grins up at her, and gods, does she love this woman.

“I’m in if you’re in, Yasha.”

Yasha bites her lower lip, and Beau sees the same love reflected in her eyes.

“Ride or die, baby.”