Chapter Text
NOW
Kris slowly squinted his eyes open. The bedroom was still dark, so it was probably too early to be awake. He carefully reached for the nightstand and picked up his phone.
7:30 a.m.
Yeah. Too early.
The warm body resting on his chest stirred softly, still asleep. Kris stretched out his hand and gently stroked the older man’s hair. The man in his arms shifted slightly, and Kris could feel him smiling.
“Good morning, Krisko. Is it morning?” The older man’s voice was still thick with sleep.
“Morning, Bojči. It’s 7:30,” Kris said, chuckling softly.
Bojan hummed happily. “So we can still sleep. No rush.”
Kris smiled, lifting his head to kiss Bojan’s forehead. Then his cheek. His neck. Finally, his lips.
“We could,” he murmured, voice low, “or we could do other things.”
Bojan opened his eyes, gaze still hazy with sleep. “I’m not even awake and you’re already suggesting something naughty.”
Kris chuckled. “Can’t help myself. You’re just so damn beautiful. And hot.”
A spark of passion flashed in Bojan’s deep brown eyes. “You know I never refuse an offer like that. But you do all the work—you woke me.”
He sighed dramatically.
Kris rolled his eyes but smiled fondly at him. “I can do that. Just stay still. Don’t move a muscle. Be a good boy for me.”
Afterwards, they lay boneless, breathing heavily, blissful smiles on their faces. Kris pulled Bojan into his arms.
“Our first Christmas together,” he whispered, kissing Bojan’s forehead.
Bojan hummed softly.
“Last Christmas, I never would have guessed I’d spend the next one like this,” Kris continued, his voice breaking just a little, “waking up next to you.”
Bojan stroked his arm soothingly. “I know. Who would have guessed? We’re lucky bastards, aren’t we?”
Kris giggled. “Yes. We are. Very lucky.”
LAST YEAR
Kris had had enough.
He was tired. Stressed. His feelings were one big, tangled mess. All he wanted was to go home, enjoy some peace and quiet, eat junk food, and watch Netflix. Instead, he was stuck here—in their practice space—watching his bandmates lose their minds.
They should be getting something done. They should be working on their new song for Eurovision. But instead of that, Bojan was singing stupid, jolly Christmas songs, hopping in every possible direction, bursting with endless energy. Spreading his madness around, inspiring the others to join in.
Everyone except Kris—apparently the only adult in the room.
And that damn Christmas jumper. It was ridiculous. What was he, twelve years old? Jesus. Kris felt like his brain was about to explode.
“For fuck’s sake, Bojan,” he snapped. “Can you stop singing and focus on what we’re supposed to do? We should actually get something done, but you’re just singing Christmas carols. And it’s not even Christmas yet.”
Bojan froze and fell silent. He looked hurt.
“You don’t have to yell at me, Krisko,” he said. “And I know very well that Christmas is two days away. We’ve been working hard for days. We also need breaks sometimes, you know. It doesn’t hurt anyone if we have a little fun.”
His tone was sharper than usual.
That only made Kris angrier.
“You’re an irresponsible child,” he said, his voice strained. “Everything is a game to you. You don’t take anything seriously.”
Bojan’s expression tightened, but he tried to stay calm. “That’s not true, and you know it. We’re just having a bit of fun. I know we’re all stressed, but Krisko—it’s almost Christmas. Let’s try to enjoy that too.”
The others nodded. Jan looked at Kris with an amused expression.
“You’re stressing too much,” Jan said. “Just chill, Krisko.”
That was the final straw.
Kris turned his rage fully on Bojan.
“You—” He laughed bitterly. “You childish creature. You didn’t make it as a solo artist and crawled back into the band. For you, this is just playtime. You dump your responsibilities, schedules, all that shit on me. You’re just a big kid. We should never have taken you back.”
As the words left his mouth, Kris knew they weren’t true.
He just couldn’t stop.
Horrified looks spread across the others’ faces. Bojan looked as if Kris had physically hit him.
Still, his voice was surprisingly steady when he spoke.
“Do you really think I don’t deserve to be here?” he asked quietly. “That I don’t invest in this—in us—just like everyone else?”
Kris felt heat rush to his cheeks. He couldn’t believe how cruel he’d just been. He didn’t answer, only stared into Bojan’s angry eyes. His own rage had burned itself out, leaving shame and a growing knot of fear behind.
“Bojan…” he started.
“Fuck you, Kris.”
Bojan stormed off, slamming the door shut. The sound echoed in Kris’s ears like the end of the world.
“That went well,” Jan said dryly.
For the rest of the day, Kris lay on his couch, doing nothing. His words echoed in his head over and over again. He didn’t even understand why he’d behaved that way. He was tired and stressed—but so was everyone else. Nothing justified what he’d said.
And Bojan was one of the most important people in his life.
He knew his feelings weren’t just friendly. They were deeper. Much deeper. He had locked them away for a long time—too scared to do anything about them.
Usually, when they fought, it was Bojan who made the first move, who tried to fix things. This time, Kris would be the one to take the initiative.
He texted Bojan, apologizing, saying he hadn’t meant what he’d said.
To distract himself, he cleaned his apartment, then took a shower. When he checked his phone again—nothing. Bojan hadn’t even read the messages.
Kris sighed. Maybe it was best to just go to sleep.
He’d call Bojan tomorrow.
Of course they’d sort this out—just like always.
After a night with far too little sleep, Kris tried calling Bojan.
No answer.
He sent another message,
apologizing again. Nothing. Just cold silence. He knew Bojan was with his parents—maybe he was busy, not checking his phone. But even Kris didn’t really believe that.
The group chat was silent too.
That silence stretched into the next day—Christmas Eve. The others sent Merry Christmas wishes. Everyone except Bojan.
Kris grew desperate. He missed Bojan so much it almost made him feel sick. All his messages remained unread.
Finally, he texted Jan, asking if he’d heard from Bojan, if he was okay.
Jan replied shortly: Yes. And no.
After a while, another message followed.
- You really hurt him.
Kris knew that. But things could be fixed… right?
Somehow, Kris survived Christmas Eve.
That night, he had nightmares—he was lost in their practice space, unable to find his way out. He searched desperately for Bojan, hearing his laughter echo all around him, but Bojan was nowhere to be found.
Kris woke up sweating, sobbing, his heart pounding.
After drinking his coffee, he decided to call Jan. He didn’t want to—but Bojan wasn’t answering, and he had no other choice.
Luckily, Jan picked up.
Kris didn’t even say hello. “Have you heard anything from Bojan? Do you know where he is? Jan, please—I have to talk to him.”
Jan was silent for a long moment. Kris feared he might hang up.
“He’s here,” Jan finally said. “With me.”
Kris let out a shaky breath of relief. “Can I—can I talk to him?”
Jan sighed. “He doesn’t want to.”
Tears burned in Kris’s eyes. “I know. I understand. But please… this can’t end like this. I can’t lose him. I didn’t mean anything I said. Please—talk to him for me. I don’t know what else to do.”
Another sigh. “I’ll try.”
The call ended.
That afternoon, a message finally came from Bojan.
- I’ll be there in 15 minutes.
They were the longest fifteen minutes of Kris’s life.
When Bojan arrived, Kris let him in, forcing his voice to stay steady. Bojan only nodded, avoiding his eyes, walking straight to the living room and sitting on the couch, staring at his feet.
They sat in silence—Bojan on the couch, Kris in the armchair.
Finally, Bojan looked up. His voice was quiet.
“Why Kris?”
The question caught Kris off guard. He’d expected anger. Accusations.
Not this.
He took a deep breath, meeting Bojan’s eyes. “I didn’t mean anything I said. I’m so, so sorry. You work just as hard as everyone else—maybe even harder. And I’m proud of you. You didn’t deserve my anger. What I said was low. I aimed everything at you, when the real target was myself.”
His voice shook. Tears slid down his cheeks.
“We’ve all been stressed and exhausted, but that’s not what this is really about.”
He paused, swallowing hard. “I know this might not be what you want to hear right now, but… I think I’m in love with you. No—I know I am. I have been for a while.”
He lowered his gaze, unable to keep eye contact. “I’ve bottled these feelings up for so long. I can’t do it anymore. We spend so much time together, and it just hurts pretending I don’t care. With everything ahead—Eurovision, the concerts—I can’t lie to myself anymore.”
His voice broke completely. “I know this might be the end of us. Not the band—just us. I’m more replaceable than you. If you want me to leave, I will.”
Kris started sobbing.
He heard Bojan stand up. Part of him wanted to beg—don’t leave me—but he stayed silent.
Instead of walking away, Bojan knelt in front of him, placing his hands on Kris’s thighs, stroking them gently.
“Kris, baby,” he said softly. “You’re not leaving anywhere. Please—look at me.”
He lifted Kris’s chin carefully. “I’m still a little mad at you. But I won’t let you leave us. Or me.”
He smiled faintly. “I love you.”
Kris sucked in a shaky breath. “What?”
Bojan leaned in, kissing him softly. He wiped the tears from Kris’s face. “I’m in love with you too. I just didn’t know you felt the same. You never showed anything. I got used to loving you from a distance—keeping my dreams hidden.”
Kris blinked, trying to process it all. A cautious smile tugged at his lips. “You love me?”
“Of course I do,” Bojan said gently. “I’ve never loved anyone as deeply as I love you.”
Kris lifted his hand, placing it at the back of Bojan’s head, stroking his hair—careful, almost afraid Bojan might pull away.
He didn’t.
Instead, Bojan moved closer, wrapped an arm around Kris’s neck, and pulled him into a kiss that erased every doubt.