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Bojan wakes up.
His head is pounding, and every muscle in his body is sore.
It doesn’t take long to remember why every muscle in his body is sore - it’s because of the whole different type of pounding that took place in this very bed just a few hours earlier.
The room smells of old booze and semen.
Maybe they should have taken it a bit easier on the alcohol, Bojan thinks. He shifts from his back to his side, and the movement makes him wince. Probably should have taken it a bit easier on the other department, too.
The warm body next to him stirs. Bojan looks at the wide back, messy black hair, hint of buttocks peeking from under the blanket. A surge of fondness takes over him and there’s a warmth that surrounds him, lodging itself somewhere around his gut. The body beside him is new and uncharted, aside from the exploration done last night, but somehow Bojan feels a familiarity with it, a comfortable… homeliness, almost.
Which is idiotic, Bojan thinks. They only met yesterday.
“Morning,” Bojan says, and Käärijä squints at him and smiles weakly. Bojan is sure he asked everyone to use his real name last night, but he is totally blanking on it right now.
He really shouldn’t have drunk that much.
Käärijä clears his throat. “Morning, um,” he struggles with his words. “Uhh, I mean–”
“Bojan,” Bojan says, a bit relieved. So he’s not the only one who is a bit fuzzy about some of the details.
“Bojan,” Käärijä repeats, and puts his hand on his chest. “Jere.”
Jere. Of course.
Nace had introduced them initially. They had all talked and laughed and danced together, spurred on by beers that turned into piña coladas that turned into shots.The longer the night went on, the more Bojan gravitated towards Jere, finding himself always sitting next to him, standing near, slowly edging himself closer while they danced.
He’s not completely sure about the specifics of it, but in the end it seemed inevitable that they had ended up right here.
Bojan is quite confident that when the band was talking about forming connections with the other contestants, cozying up with them, this is not what everyone had in mind. Even though Bojan is pretty sure they were not the only ones to hook up at one of the pre-parties - a bunch of young and attractive people having the time of their lives, what were they expecting to happen? - he had not expected to fall into someone’s bed quite so effortlessly.
Guess Eurovision really is like the Olympics that way, Bojan thinks, his eye catching the Carpe Diem wrapper on the floor. Complete with the complimentary condoms.
Somehow, the only thing he needed was to hear Jere’s infectious, ridiculous laugh to completely lose his mind.
Now he just has to navigate the aftermath. Get back on track, eye on the prize.
“I know,” Bojan says, smiling. Jere smiles back. He turns on his stomach, leaning on his elbows, runs a hand through his hair, like he's a bit unsure what to say next.
Bojan finds himself marveling at how cute he is. Jere’s bed hair is irresistible. Bojan wants to bury his hands in it and mess it up even further, grab Jere’s neck and push his head down to–
But he has a flight to catch.
And a competition to concentrate on.
It’s going to get so awkward, Bojan thinks as he gets up and starts gathering his clothes. This is Jere’s room and he needs to get back to his own, needs to pack and get going and not let his focus run away from him. He doesn’t regret what happened, not really, but he is a bit worried that Jere's going to be that one night stand who can’t look him in the eye the next time they meet. They’ll end up avoiding each other and making it weird every time they have to interact.
He really doesn’t want that. It’s not good for… their goals. Yeah.
Bojan has his pants and shirt back on when he turns to look at Jere, still lounging on the bed. “Can we… keep in touch?” he blurts out.
Jere looks at him, bewildered. He then looks down on the bed, finger fumbling with the bed sheet.
“I think… we maybe not do it again.” he says, haltingly. He lifts his eyes to look at Bojan’s reaction.
Bojan realises what his question must have sounded like. “Oh!” he exclaims. “I– I agree. It’s a distraction, right?”
Jere looks back down and nods.
“But the thing is…” Bojan continues. “I actually quite like you, Jere. I was thinking maybe. Maybe we could be friends?”
Jere looks at him.
“Friends.”
Bojan runs his hand through his hair and immediately regrets it. Did he not wash his hands last night after–?
“Yeah?” he says. “We’re going to see each other a lot in the next month or so. So, I’d like to be… in good terms?”
Jere seems to think about it. Then he nods, and smiles, and the room seems to light up a little.
“Yeah. Yes. That is good.”
Bojan makes it on time, showered, packed, determined not to lose his luggage. In the plane, just before liftoff, his phone bings.
Jere | Käärijä: have good flight and see you in Amsterdam! 😊
Bojan taps a hasty message back.
me: I’ll be the one cha-cha-chaing the night away! 💃💚
Jere | Käärijä: caarrppe diem!! maybe little less drinking 🥴
Bojan sends a thumbs-up, puts his phone away and closes his eyes. It’s uncomfortable to sit.
But he has a good feeling about this.