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As it turned out, finding a corner to catch a moment of peace was proving to be quite difficult in a place packed to the brim with numerous delegations, countless reporters, and a sea of organizers, which all faded in comparison to the sheer magnitude of people crowding the streets outside.
Valya, of course, noticed how tense his shoulders became and how his smile was turning more and more brittle as the post-semifinal celebration in the hall of the venue went on. His brother caught his eye from where he was talking to someone he couldn’t exactly recall—after the amount of introductions they’ve made over the last couple of weeks, some of the faces and names became a blur—and made his way over after excusing himself, his brows furrowed slightly.
“Не краще?”
Danya shrugged and tugged on a collar of his shirt. It was too hot in here, and it seemed like there were bugs crawling under his skin. He barely stopped himself from scratching on his forearms, instead gripping a flute of champagne tighter with a shaking hand.
Valya threw a look around and leaned in to mutter quietly, “Йди подихай свіжим повітрям. Я прикрию.”
Nodding gratefully and placing the flute on the nearby table, Danya plastered yet another smile on his face, feeling it tug unpleasantly on his cheeks, and started to move towards the exit. There were fewer people in the hallways, but still, after each turn, he was met with eyes looking at him and voices talking over each other, becoming a blend of noise and light and people that was overwhelming his senses after an already long and exhausting day. Some waved and smiled at him; some congratulated him on making it to the grand final in their broken, slurred English, and he waved and smiled in return, not willing to stop and engage in a conversation.
The corridors thankfully became more and more deserted as he moved further away from the party, and he reminded himself to breathe deeper, through his nose and out of his mouth, but there seemed to be a vortex in his lungs that was sucking in all the air and hesitating to let go, and his shirt was sticking to his back and his collar was choking him, so he tugged on it again, and somewhere in his right temple a dull pain began, and there were spots in his eyes like when you look directly at the sun, and the numbness in his legs that made him stumble a little over the threshold to the small balcony that appeared out of nowhere—
The first gulp of cool night air was a small relief, but a relief nonetheless, as he clamped his clammy hands on the metal railing, focusing on the smooth feeling under his fingers. He put his whole weight on it and leaned forward, shutting his eyes and taking one trembling breath after another.
A faint whiff of smoke tickled his nostrils, and someone quietly cleared their throat. Danya startled and looked over his shoulder at the wall near the door through which he entered, instantly feeling dread wash over him. He couldn’t bear for someone to see him like this, especially not…
A pair of dark, near-black eyes studied him warily; long fingers held a cigarette close to thin lips; a tired face with smudged remains of stage makeup was half-lit with the lights coming from the hallway. Danya felt his heartbeat pick up, anxious and embarrassed.
“God, sorry, I’ll go.”
Lucio took a deep pull and turned away, breathing out smoke before coming closer to stand near Danya and extinguishing the butt on the railing. Danya focused his eyes on the darkened spot it left, trying and failing to will his hands to unclench their tight grip. Lucio leaned forward on his forearms, twirling a still smoldering butt in his fingers.
“It’s okay.” Out of the corner of his eye, Danya saw Lucio shoot a sideways glance at him, mildly curious. “Is it... okay?”
Danya managed to raise a corner of his mouth in a weak attempt at a smile, quick and fleeting. “I’ll manage.”
Lucio looked over the city that surrounded them, squinting at the glowing lights. His shoulder pressed into Danya’s, grounding and warm through their thin shirts. “You were singing good today.”
This time the smile felt more real, influenced by the strong accent and the sentiment, even though he had to swallow down a wave of nausea at the thought of everything that happened this week and how unsure he was about his voice and performance.
“Thanks. You too were great.”
“Thank you.” Lucio, clearly used to praise but still humble, nodded his head in acceptance. A strand of his long hair slipped from behind his ear. Danya’s fingers tensed as he suppressed the urge to tuck it back, wiping the little trace of white paint left on his jaw in the process.
Lucio seemed content to stand in silence for a while, but Danya felt slightly restless, thinking of what to say—anything that wasn’t him blurting out that he had listened to Lucio’s entire discography three times and had watched his music videos until they showed up in his dreams would be nice. In the end, he remained silent, full of awareness of the small point of contact they shared, appreciating how his anxiety seeped out through it bit by bit.
The definitely-after-midnight-closer-to-dawn air was crisp, despite it being May, and the noises of the city were finally calming down, despite it being full of people from all parts of Europe. Danya mused on how much more different and lively the life felt here compared to Kyiv with its curfews and nightly air raid alarms which became as common as the coming of night itself. He tried not to use the internet these days—to avoid reading people’s comments taking apart their looks and his voice and their staging and whether they should be allowed to participate in the first place—but he should probably check the news, just in case.
“Your thoughts are like... come si chiama... le mosche. Flies.”
Danya, startled by the sudden comment, turned his head and realized that Lucio was watching him. “What?”
“Do not worry. It’s okay.” Lucio’s eyes were reassuring, and little crow’s feet appeared in their corners when he smiled. “Okay?”
Danya let out a breath and dropped his gaze. “Yeah. Okay.”
Lucio glanced at the balcony door. “Are you going inside?”
Danya considered returning to the heat of the building, to the swarm of people, and couldn’t help a shudder that ran through him. “Not yet.”
Lucio hummed quietly and started to move away, and Danya tried not to let despair crush him at the thought of his leaving when five minutes ago all he wanted was to be left alone. But Lucio only put the butt of the cigarette in his pocket and closed the door to the balcony, blocking them from the venue and returning to stay closer, press their shoulders more firmly, and light another cigarette which they shared as they observed the rest of the world in front of them.