Douze Points To Disaster (on hold)

by l0n9b0tt0m

Summary:

When 18-year-old Lia Hart qualifies for Eurovision with her best friend, she expects pressure, fame, and the occasional language barrier. What she doesn’t expect? Kyle Alessandro, Norway’s smug poster boy in a suit of armor and the internet’s new favorite ship... with her.

The stage is set, the sparks are flying, and Eurovision has never been messier—or more personal.

(Beta Read by @SalieLouTalking)

Notes:

Hello! I've recently started really getting into eurovision,and as soon as i watched i had a MASSIVE crush on Kyle Alessandro... so i made a fic about him and an oc! Her name has he same initials as my two first names so.. lmao.. but i am a guy so does that count as self-insert??? idk man..
This story MAY have mild smut, but if it does, it will be mild and there will be a warning beforehand.
Also guys pls dont talk about the age gap between Claude and Lia that is a normal age gap for friends.

The people in this fic are multilingual, but i lowkey just used google translate/deepl for this ( except for the dutch bits ) so by all means use those.. LMFAO

Enjoy

Chapter 1: The Smug Numpty-Knight of Norway

“Lia!” I heard outside my hotel room as the person yelling my name banged on my front door. We were staying in Amsterdam for our Eurovision audition, and I was just getting ready for bed and washing my face in the bathroom when Claude, my musical partner and best friend, burst in with his own spare key, not even giving me a chance to walk towards the door. I grumbled, my entire body aching from hours and hours of interviews in 3 different languages. I couldn't even articulate my words correctly. Lord, give me strength, I whispered to myself, ready to face whatever energetic outburst Claude had for me.

“Had je niet kunnen wachten tot ik klaar was in de badkamer?”
I walked out of the bathroom, tying the strings of my pyjama pants. Claude was standing there, practically bouncing with excitement as he shoved his laptop in my face. 

“We did it! We’re through! Hah, c'est la vie!” He screamed as I read the Email from NPO, holding onto my head and rubbing my eyes, half-asleep.

Claude et Lia, 

We are happy to announce that you two have been chosen to represent The Netherlands for Eurovision in Rotterdam! Congratulations.

Best Regards,
The NPO Team

Oh. My. God. We made it through.
“Stop, Claude, if this is a prank I'm going to throw you out of a window.” I started jumping up and down with him, throwing the laptop down on the couch. He hugged me tight and practically squeezed all the air out of me.

“It's not a prank, Aurelia, We’re performing in Rotterdam!”
—--------------------------------------------------
I was already enjoying every second of being a Eurovision representative. Me and Claude started getting recognised by tourists, and not just locals. We were on news broadcasts, social media, and not just in The Netherlands, but Internationally… It all felt like a fever dream… And now, the last pre-party (and my chance to meet people) was being held in Amsterdam. This was going to be the best few months of my life… or so I thought.

The moment I arrived at the building we were meant to meet everyone, I got chills down my spine. Claude held my hand to calm me down, but it barely worked. I’d seen everyone live, and their posts, and their songs… It was intimidating. Everyone seemed like they had their shit together for the show, and I was sweating my nonexistent balls off the moment I walked into the building.

Walking down the red carpet was basically the most overwhelming part of it all. Reporters everywhere, taking pictures with an unbearable flash and asking all sorts of personal questions: “What do your families think of you two qualifying?”; “Do you dislike any of the other contestants?”; “Is there a story behind C’est La Vie?”
The invasion of my privacy was something I was used to: It’s destined to happen when you’re locally famous, and especially globally famous. But to this degree? Terrifying. Amongst all the commotion, all I could focus on was one person: Kyle Alessandro. Norway. He was glowing, practically the centre of attention. He had already made himself a fan-favourite, and it was definitely not helping with my nerves. He was so polished, so perfect. It was more annoying than it was impressive. He was surrounded by reporters, cameras and fans, smiling brightly. He wasn’t even singing, why was he, of all people, getting so much attention?
I’d seen him in the Melodi Grand Prix, or atleast, clips of it over on TikTok. His costume for the song was a fucking, I kid you not, suit of armour. A FUCKING SUIT OF ARMO—
Anyways. It apparently stands for strength and resilience you need to have whilst enduring a lot of suffering… a tribute to his mother.
Just like me and Claude.
Claude had already talked to Austria, Denmark and.. Kyle , but I was too intimidated to even follow them on any social media, let alone talk to them. Luckily, Claude immediately introduced me to his friends at the snacks and drinks table.

“So… This is JJ, Austria, and Sissal, Denmark.” Claude said as he smiled warmly, as usual. Out of all of them, I was the shortest. That was ironic, considering JJ was always made fun of for being short and I live in The Netherlands….

“Hi,” I waved, “I’m Aurelia Hart…” I said as I poured myself a glass of cola.

“Hey, Aurelia! I’ve heard so much about you, your vocals in C’est La Vie had me rolling on the floor dyinggggg!” Sissal hugged me, and I tried not to spill my drink all over her. My smile couldn’t contain itself. They weren’t as scary as I thought they were… Well, most of them weren’t.
Suddenly, I heard JJ squeal out “Kyle!” and I could just hear the smile that was spread across his face.
Sissal let go of me, and my smile gently faded when Kyle bumped into me hard as he walked past me. My drink spilled all over me, leaving my jaw on the floor and my eyebrows furrowed.
Once he finished greeting his friends, he turned to me, smiling with a hint of smugness on his face, as if to say “I’m better than you.”

“Lia from Claude et Lia… eh..” He looked at me awkwardly, and then slightly chuckled. Was this funny to him? I was gonna wipe that smug smirk off that bastard's face in just a second.
“Sorry, I’m–”

“I know who you are, Kyle Alessandro.”

His smile dropped and he raised an eyebrow. I could hear JJ behind Kyle chuckling. I already knew I was going to hate him, and that he was going to ruin my entire time here. He was a smug little snob, and here I was thinking he might just be a nice guy, despite the copious amounts of attention he got from the fans. I was a fool to assume.

“Yeah… anyways, let me just help you there..” Kyle still wasn’t smiling. The feeling must’ve been mutual. He reached to the table to get a cloth, but he was interrupted, again, this time not by me.

“Is this the mysterious couple of this year’s eurovision?” I heard a reporter say, and I immediately groaned. Twitter had been going insane over my supposed ‘secret lover,’ that I didn’t even have. People were convinced it was someone competing in the contest, and my body physically recoiled. I knew what the reporter was insinuating.
Me and Kyle Alessandro ?! Is she insane..??

Kyle basically burst out laughing.
“Sorry– sorry…” He repeated over and over, but continued laughing. I just couldn’t wait to get to our hotel room and just rant about him to Claude

The reporter seemed to take Kyle’s hint, and scooted off almost immediately. I was already completely drained, and in that moment, I was thankful for Kyle’s inability to hold back his laughter.

“So… Lia, this is Kyle, as you seem to know…” Claude smiled awkwardly and clapped his hands together.

Kyle simply nodded, and turned to talk to JJ. That asshole! I was still covered in soda, and now twitter was going to be shipping me with him! With this… stupid moron!

“Well,” Claude laughed, “That went well.”

“Ugh, hou je bek, ouwe.” I punched his arm gently, rolling my eyes.

“Well, you have to admit, he does look hot, and your type.”

“Yeah, Il a l'air très baisable , except he's a total asshole, which immediately makes him imbattable .” I groaned, scowling as I stared at the boy across from me, with his back turned towards me. “He’s like… the physical embodiment of Eurovision if it only let plastic dolls on stage.” That made Claude laugh.
—------------------------------------------------
“Everyone welcome Kyle Alessandro, with Lighter!”

The pre-parties had started, and ofcourse Kyle was up first… His song wasn’t bad, and that just annoyed me even more. Why is it that a prick like him gets blessed with a voice that instantly hypnotises you as you hear it.

“Somewhere along the way I lost my mind…” My head was spinning, trying not to focus on his voice and what Claude was telling me. Flickers of his sentence rushed through my mind, but all I could concentrate on was the sudden movements from Kyle’s dance.
“I had to walk a hundred thousand miles, I'm not afraid to set it all on fire…”
I was gone, fully immersed in the music around me.
“I won't fall again, I'll be my own lighter.”
I slowly started swaying to the music, quietly singing along. I looked up at Claude.

“I feel this spark inside me, I don’t need saving!” Claude expressively shook his hands around, mocking me.

“ Fermez-la… ”

“So, when are you going up?” A voice appeared out of nowhere, making Lia scream and turn around to hit the perpetrator. She got him smack across the face, and right as her hand made contact with his face, JJ  started singing.

“Fuck.. wow, that hurt.”

Kyle… wait, when did he get off stage? Doesn’t matter..
If it were anyone else, I would’ve started profusely apologising. I would’ve kept apologising until Eurovision was over, and I'd never see them face-to-face again.
The brunette held onto his jaw, looking at me with a look I'd be seeing a lot more in upcoming days. Eyebrows furrowed and teeth gritting, he looked like steam was about to come right out of his ears, but I simply smiled.

“Shouldn’t have scared me,” I yawned and turned back to Claude, rolling my eyes, “Next time, I’ll knock your teeth out.”

“I only wanted to know when you were going on stage…” he said, voice shaking, from the pain, I assumed.

“After the Icelandic boys..” Claude smiled at Kyle, basically apologizing for my behaviour. Kyle nodded and smiled back. Him and Claude had become all buddy-buddy earlier when I had taken a trip to the bathroom. I didn’t like it, and clenched my fists together a bit. Kyle seemed to notice me getting tense, and took this as an opportunity to get back at me for the punch.

“Careful, Songbird,” he grinned, “Your feathers are ruffled.”

I scoffed… Did he just call me ‘ Songbird ’...? That asshole…
“Save it, Captain Charming . I’m immune.”

Kyle simply smirked and looked at Claude, “Good luck, man, for your performance, and dealing with her.”

My jaw basically dropped down to the floor and my eyebrows furrowed. A little flame of anger lit up inside me, and I just felt like exploding. He has to be joking. The urge to hit him again washed over me, and I almost growled in anger. My knuckles turned white as I watched Kyle wink and slowly walk away. I grit my teeth against each other and groaned as I turned back to look at Claude, who looked like he was almost about to burst out laughing.

“Oh my lord, he wants you so bad.” Claude covered his mouth to keep his laugh contained whilst I raised an eyebrow before looking back at Kyle, eyeing him like I was about to attack him and rip out every single one of those perfect, polished curls. He was a fucking menace to be reckoned with, I could already tell, but I wasn’t going to let him, of all people, fuck me over.

I hope his armor costume rusts to bits.

Chapter 2: #KaureliaHalessandro

Notes:

Slight mention of past troubles including child abuse (blink and you'll miss it...), PTSD and anxiety disorders.

I reached for my blanket to cover my shoulders as the coldness of my hotel room hit my now conscious body, not hearing anything but the music playing through my headphones that I’d neglected to take off at full volume. But going back to sleep? That wasn’t an option. So, I simply groaned and opened my eyes. I definitely wasn’t excited when I saw that my phone was aggressively shaking at every spam notification that popped up on my phone. I forced myself to reach for my phone to see 8 missed calls from Claude, who, in his messages, claimed to have tried to burst into my room, but because of my loud, noise-cancelling headphones, I hadn’t woken up from the countless amounts of knocking. And since I’d forced him to give me the spare key back, he wasn’t going to get in in any other way.

I groaned, checking all the apps that were being unusually spammed with “You were tagged in…” and “___’s post mentioned you” and my eyes widened as I read every notification… I practically threw my headphones to the other side of the room as I sat up from my bed, holding back a loud, blood-curdling shriek. New outlets, TikTok videos, famous influencers, even Americans… they were all talking about one fucking hastag:

#KAURELIAHALESSANDRO

I almost gagged as I took another look at the videos on my TikTok for you page. Clips of us talking– no, arguing – had gone absolutely viral. Edits with me hitting him as the starter clip were getting thousands upon thousands of views. I didn’t even know there was a video of that… but apparently Vaeb had been filming a video in the middle of our conversation, meaning we had been in the background.
I scrolled and scrolled, going through video after video of people spitting absolute bullcrap on the internet.

“Lip reading the clip of Lia and Kyle!
‘Save it, Captain-’”

I turned my phone off, cringing at the words that had escaped my mouth the night before. Did I actually say that…? And had he actually, unironically called me ‘Songbird?’ Eugh…

My body wouldn’t let me get up for a solid 5 seconds from the utter shock and disgust I'd felt whilst watching those videos, but eventually I managed to force my legs to push me off the bed and onto my feet. The feeling of burning was heavy in my chest and it felt like a spark kept flickering on and off. I got changed from my scrawny, oversized pyjamas and decided to wear something a little chill… but nothing red. Nothing that may attract people to the thought of me and Kyle… It was silly, but my thought process made sense whilst doing it. I quickly put my shoes on and wasn't bothered to fix the fact that it had slightly folded and was now digging into the back of my heel whilst I walked out of my hotel room, thanking the lord above that this had been the last, and my only, Eurovision pre-party, but I screamed in fear as I suddenly stood face-to-face with Claude, who had apparently been standing in front of my door since the texts he sent about 30 minutes ago.

“AURELIA MAAIKE HART-!” My full name bustled through the hallway as I prepared myself for a lecture on falling asleep with my headphones on. It wouldn’t have been the first time. But, to my surprise, Claude simply giggled and wrapped his arm around mine, walking me to the elevator as if we were a newly married couple. “Are you excited now that you have a new boyfriend ?” Claude teased, and my mouth dropped wide open. Boyfriend? God, please no..

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I scowled back at him, looking down at the floor.

“Not yet… one day.” Claude spoke with a sing-songy tone, pressing the elevator button repeatedly. The clicks of the button comforted me for a couple seconds as I focused on that sound and that sound only. I closed my eyes, shutting out every other sound around me, until one, very disruptive sound snapped me out of my calmness. The elevator ding.
The doors slowly slid open, and I internally groaned as I noticed who was already standing there. Kyle. Of fucking course he’s there.. Why wouldn't he be? I told myself.
Kyle looked just as bothered as I did, and part of me wanted to cockily smile about it, but I knew that would just come off as smug, and I didn’t want to be openly smug like he was. I was discreet about it.

“Ah…” Claude pressed his lips together and grinned, watching as both me and Kyle raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, I just remembered, Lia, I forgot my sunglasses in my hotel room.. You go, I'll catch up!” He practically pushed me in, making me lose my balance and almost fall onto Kyle. I was going to kill Claude the next time I saw him.
Kyle caught me before I could land on him and make him fall over with me like a damn domino. Claude giggled and waved as the doors closed. That bitch.

I aggressively shoved Kyle, forcefully making him let go of me.
“That stupid hashtag is your fault.” I blurted out, unashamed of my thoughts and feelings. It technically, indirectly, was his fault. He bumped into me, he snuck up on me, he called me a songbird.

All he did was chuckle and shake his head as he softly whispered something in Norwegian: “Hun tror det er min feil…”

I simply roll my eyes and look away from him, keeping my composure as I can feel his eyes burning holes into me by literally just staring.

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open and the commotion outside the hotel hit me like a ton of bricks. The paparazzi outside was so hassled and loud that they could be heard from inside the hotel lobby. Luckily, the paparazzi weren't the only things there. My newfound friends, Matti, Hálfdán, Sissal and Go-jo, were already there. I spotted them immediately and decided to leave the elevator to go talk to them, but before I could, Kyle grabbed my shoulder and lightly pushed me back to walk in front of me.

“It’s not completely my fault, Hart.” He mumbled, but I could see the smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. My name sounded pathetic as he said it. Not on his part, but on mine. I sounded pathetic, and I was pathetic. I couldnt let myself be fucking degraded like that.

“Awh, in denial, Helgesen? I know your ego is bruised, no need to let me know like that.” I watched as he stopped in his tracks and his smile faded as I said his last name. I couldn’t tell if he was surprised that I used his real name instead of his “stage-name-last-name” – his middle name – or if he was surprised that I actually shot back. I pushed him back and smiled cheekily as I walked past him. That prick thinks he’s slick… I beg to fucking differ.

When I walked up to my friends, I was immediately greeted by Úlla, one of Vaeb’s dancers. She was giggling as she brought me to the rest of the group, and I was simply left confused. She wouldn’t tell me why she was laughing, but that was just Úlla…

“Hey, Kaurelia– er… I mean…” Sissal stopped herself before she could finish her sentence. The second “Kaurelia” escaped her mouth I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek.

“You guys saw it too, then?” I murmured.

“Yeah..” Marty (Go-Jo) mumbled, “It’s kind of all over social media.”

I sighed, looking down at the floor again in defeat. It looked like everyone had seen the ship, and no one was planning on forgetting it anytime soon..
“He's such a jerk… and an absolute numpty,” I whined, “I hope this blows over before Eurovision.”

Úlla shrugged, “He’s nice, you know. Just have to get to know him.”

“Unlike Úlla.” Hálfdán smiled cheekily as he patted the dancer on the back, leaving Matti almost bursting with laughter. Úlla just rolled her eyes.

“They just bully me because I’m younger and inferior.” She scowled at the two boys, gritting her teeth as if she were mad, although she clearly wasn’t.

I nodded, checking my watch. 11:36.

“I have an interview at 12… so I’ll catch you guys later?” I held on to Sissal for stability as I fixed my shoe, which had been bugging me since I left the hotel room.

“Yeah, sure, bye!” Hálfdán and Matti said in sync, followed by a giggle and a high-five. They were like 8 year olds stuck in 20 and 21 year old bodies, it wasn’t just an online persona…

Sissal sighed, but she was smiling. She was basically like the mother of our group… or any friendgroup she was in, really.
Both Marty and Sissal waved me off as I walked through the hotel doors, bustling through the paparazzi.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------
“Lord, what a relief…” I said, breathing heavily as I finally made it to the building for the interview. I looked around the lobby, steadying my panting breaths from running through the paparazzi all the way here. I should’ve just called an uber…
All I needed now was to get to the floor the interview was on, and I'd be ready as rain. I ran up the steps after i’d gotten my breathing in check, counting each step i stood on.

One, two, three, four, five steps.

The walls looked like they had chipped paint and so did the steps. It looked old, rickety, and a bit scary if this was a horror movie.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten steps.

The handlebars and railings on the sides were about as unstable as a rope hanging on its last thread, so I avoided touching them as I ran up. There were doors on each floor that kind of looked like fire escapes, but they had little labels, telling me what the door really went to. Work rooms, cafeterias, news broadcasting… etc.

Eleven, twe—

I bump into something… someone. I fall down the stairs but catch myself on the railing before I could fall back fully and fuck myself over with a concussion. The railings creaked as I held all my weight on them, and I quickly hoisted myself up, in fear of the bars that were supporting me snapping and making me fall over anyway.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, I–...” I looked up to see who I’d bumped heads with, and was greeted with him . Again.
There he was. He had fallen over on the steps, and was now sitting on one of them and gently rubbing his hip.. He’d seemed to have hit it on something and was whimpering slightly as he made himself get up.

“What are you doing here?” He glowered, the slight whimper in his tone still evident as he dusted himself off.
I just raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms. What am I doing here? More like what is he doing here…

“Could ask you the same thing.”  I glared at him, gritting my teeth slightly as we both just stood there, staring daggers at each other, when the door behind him opened out of nowhere. A guy with a grey beard and hair was standing in the doorway, smiling brightly as he saw the two of us.

“Lia, wat leuk om je weer te zien!” He said. I tilted my head slightly, but then remembered who he was. He had interviewed me and Claude when our song LADADA (Mon Dernier Mot) had come out.

“Ah, Luk!” I smiled. He had been one of my favourite interviewers at the time, “Lang niet meer gesproken, maar eh…” I looked at Kyle, "Wat doet hij hier eigenlijk..?”

 

“Oh…” Luk, the interviewer, looked at Kyle and rubbed the back of his neck, “We thought..” he suddenly switched languages, “it would be a good idea to interview you two together…”

 

My mouth dropped open… again… but Kyle kept his composure, not even a single muscle in his face twitching as he walked over to Luk and nodded, walking into the room the older man had just come out of.

I wasn’t going to let him just, stupidly walk away from me like that. If he was going, so was I. I wasn’t letting him just, get the interview alone because I refuse to like him as a person. No.

So I followed.

———————————————-

A couple minutes into the interview, I already knew I was going to hate the entire thing. Me and Kyle had to share a cramped couch, forcing proximity between the two of us. We both clearly hated it. All I could really focus on was the ticking of the clock as Luk asked Kyle his first couple of questions.

 

Tick… tick… tick…

 

I straightened my back up as my shoes dug into the back of my ankles again for no reason. My arm felt cramped, wedged between the couch and my ribs, so I awkwardly pulled my arm from out in between my body and the couch, letting it sit on top of the arm rest instead of beside it. 

 

Tick… tick… tick…

 

The clock struck 12:15, and my body almost jolted as a reminder on my phone went off. Luckily, it only vibrated. I felt it in my pocket, but I ignored it. I’ll check it after the interview, I told myself.

 

Tick… tick… tick…

 

“Lia!” Luk’s voice echoed through my head, and I realised he was calling my name. Shit, had he asked me a question?

 

“Sorry, what did you say? I zoned out…” I awkwardly chuckled and leaned my head in my hands, trying to lean as far away from Kyle as I could.

 

“I asked what you thought of Kyle, since you two are the youngest in the competition this year.” Luk repeated his question, and the entire sentence made me giggle. What did I think of Kyle? Wow, what did I?

 

“Well, he’s just a bundle of joy, isn’t he?” I spoke in the most sarcastic tone I could answer in, “Just, if a human being was a flashy glitter bomb that made you want to jump off the Empire State Building. That’s Kyle.”

 

Kyle rolled his eyes and grit his teeth. I didn’t look at him, but I could tell from the corner of my eye that he wasn’t enjoying this already.

 

“Ah… right…” Luk pressed his lips into a thin line, “Let’s move onto the next question then… C’est La Vie, it’s a tribute to Claude’s mother… how does that resonate with you?”

 

I smiled softly. I could easily answer this question.

“It doesn’t,” I sat up slightly, “I’m not doing it for her, I’m doing it for Claude. The song is about how his mother used to teach him to see the positive in things, and he saw the positive in me. When I was 14, doing my best, trying to climb the social ladder in my new career as a singer, he saw I had potential. And now, he’s like my older brother, and has been for the past 4 years.” 

 

I could see Kyle staring at the floor from the corner of my eye, either deep in thought or thoroughly listening to what I had to say.

 

“And why don’t you do it for your mother? Did your mother not—“

 

For a moment, the world stopped, and right there, I witnessed my composure crumble to bits as though it were a lost game of jenga. I couldn’t hear my own thoughts anymore, let alone Luk. Everything was spinning and I couldn’t control it…

 

“Sorry… repeat your question, please..?” My voice sounded woozy, but maybe that was just the feeling of the ceiling falling down on me. The flash of the video camera wasn’t helping much either, slowly giving me a headache along with the irritating static sound that my brain made.

 

“your mother -“ all I could hear was muffled murmurs. 

 

“I’m sorry, I have to leave..” I abruptly got up, running out of the room as quick as possible, my legs shaking but still managing to get me out of there. 

 

The door made a loud sound as it closed behind me, and I just stood there for about 5 seconds, processing the events of what had just happened. I fumbled through my mini-purse, looking for the orange pill bottle that was so inconveniently buried at the bottom of my bag. I couldn’t find it for at least 10 seconds, but when I did, I immediately dropped two onto my hand. I took both of them at the same time without water, leaving a harrowing lump in my throat that felt like it was going to make me gag every millisecond. My body was shaking, and if I didn’t get back to the hotel soon it would give up on me. 

I hadn’t taken my medication in about a week, and Claude was gonna kill me when he found out… but god, swallowing those pills was sometimes harder than performing live. It felt like a reminder that I was weak, that there was something wrong with me. And I couldn’t afford to be wrong. Not right now. Not during Eurovision, and certainly not in front of him.

 

“Lia.” I heard a voice behind me and a hand tapping me on the shoulder, a small attempt at comfort, I supposed. I immediately swatted the hand away though, neglecting any physical contact.

 

“Stop it.” My voice sounded as though it was about to break, the cracks and squeaks making it clear that I was going to burst into tears if they came even a centimetre closer.

 

“What’s wrong?” At this point I’d recognised the voice. Ofcourse it was Kyle, he’s the only person dumb enough to go chase me in the middle of a breakdown.

 

“None of your business.” Tears fell down the side of my face, letting the lump grow even bigger in my throat. Breathing felt impossible. I was going to collapse. I had to get out of there… I had to get some air.

 

“I’m trying to help, Lia.. let me help you.” Kyle sounded sincere, but I still didn’t believe him. Convincing myself to believe him felt about the same as following a stranger to their sketchy van because they have ‘puppies and candy’.

 

“I don’t need your help.” I blurted out, holding onto the rickety railing again. I couldn’t keep myself upright for another minute if I didn’t get out quickly so I just— bolted…

—————————————————

“A week?!” Claude paced around in my room, screaming at me like an angry mother. My face was still slightly puffy and a bit pink, even though it had already been more than 10 hours ago, but that didn’t stop Claude from lecturing me.

“You know how bad it can get, Lia, are you crazy?!”

 

I couldn’t make eye contact with him, and it’s clear he couldn’t make eye contact with me either. 

I’d told Claude everything: The interview, the questions, the breakdown… anything I could remember. And, as expected, he was upset at Luk, Kyle and me. All three of us were to blame, directly and indirectly. 

I just grit my teeth at him, swallowing hard as he continued lecturing me.

 

“I get it, I fucked up.” I groaned, getting up off the bed I was sitting on and grabbed my packet of cigarettes from the nightstand.

 

“And where do you think you’re going?” Claude stopped me by grabbing my shoulder, but I quickly shoved him off, too angry to comply. 

 

“Out.” And I left before Claude could even say anything else. Hearing the door close behind me was the most satisfying part of it all… after the actual smoking bit, ofcourse. 

 

I made it all the way up to the roof, scratching at my hands by the time that I reached the railing. The cold breeze sent chills down my spine and my body ached as I fumbled with the packet of cigarettes. I grabbed one of the last cigarettes left in the pack, rummaging through my pocket to find my lighter.

“Shit..” I sighed, realising I’d left the only good one
Suddenly, I heard the door to the roof open slightly, the creaks making me turn around in shock. It made me jump for a second, but as soon as I saw who walked through the door, I rolled my eyes.
Kyle. Was he stalking me or something?
“Go away, Helgesen.” I put my lighter back in my pocket as I looked back up at the moon, my face reminiscing in the moonlight. He might be a lighter, but unless he could light my smoke, he wasn’t important to me.
“I didn’t come to fight,” Kyle said, quieter than usual. There was a pause, like even the air was waiting to see what I’d say.

I didn’t turn to look at him. I just stared at the sky, letting the silence stretch long enough to push him away. But he didn’t move.

“Can I just... sit here for a bit?” he asked.

I finally glanced at him over my shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but there was no smugness left.

“Suit yourself,” I muttered.

He walked up next to me, handing me a bright blue lighter, presumably the one from his promo pictures.

“Thanks… I guess..” I mumbled, taking the lighter from him and eyeing him suspiciously. He was acting weird, and not weird like usual. Kyle was fiddling with the ends of his sleeves and picking at his fingernails as he looked at the floor. His cheeks were red, as usual, but they didn't look like his trademark ‘sunburnt’ skin. He probably was biting on them from the inside as he sucked them in slightly. And out of nowhere, he looked up at me, and just stared for a full 10 seconds.

“How old are you again?” He suddenly said, looking back down at his feet. He wasn’t smug, or cocky. He was just… Kyle. The Kyle I saw online and talking to everyone else.

“Eighteen.” I mumbled as I took a small drag from my cigarette, looking down at the city I grew up in. Rotterdam.

“Oh…” He cleared his throat, “You sure are young for someone who smokes…”

I scoffed, snorting as I rolled my eyes, “No I’m not,” I said as more smoke poured out of my mouth into the night air, “Kids start smoking at 13 years old in this country, it’s fucking shit, actually.”

He nodded slowly, his back slightly letting him lean over the railing.  “Why did you start?”

I sighed, shoving his lighter back into his hand as I got ready to tell him. There wasn’t anything to really hide anymore, he’d already seen me bolt out of a room with tears in my ears about a stupid question.
“My mum, she…” I took a deep breath, “She wasn’t the best in the world, so to cope, I just… started and never quit. She gave me some… anxiety, and PTSD.”

“Is that why you ran out earlier?” He looked at me again, some kind of pity in his eyes. I didn’t need his pity, but I appreciated it.

“Yeah,” I took another drag, “Yeah, it was.”

“I’m sorry that happened.” He didn’t ask further questions. He wasn’t nosy… he wasn’t completely bored in the conversation, he was almost... perfect… God I hated him.

“You make it hard to hate you, and impossible to like you, Helgesen.” I muttered, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath my heel.

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes still on the skyline.

I turned and walked away, the rooftop door clicking shut behind me.
And for the first time that night, the silence felt a little less heavy.

Chapter 3: Enemies to What the Fuck Was That

Notes:

TENSION TENSION TENSION TENSION

Also.... spot the sombr reference........ ;3

Sorry for any typos/grammar mistakes, this chapter has not been proofread...

Promotion would now be at its fucking peak. All contestants now have some time before Eurovision, and the most important part right now is advertisement. But the only advertisement I got invited to was with him. The way I wanted to wring his neck when he actually ran after me in that interview… and guess what? The interview was now up on the internet for millions to see. I kept rewatching my panic attack over and over again.

“What the hell was that?” Luk’s voice sounded like a whisper, almost like he didnt want anyone on set… or the microphone… to hear him. But Kyle clearly heard him, loud and clear. He simply looked at Luk, a mix of disgust and shock from the interviewer’s words was so evident, you could just hear Luk’s breath hitch after realising how insensitive he had been just by the look on Kyle’s face.

“I have to make sure she’s alright…” Kyle got up, sighing as though he was annoyed, but you could tell he wasn’t. That facial expression displayed pure worry.

“I thought you guys were ri–” Luk didn't get to finish that sentence. Kyle clearly knew when and how to shut a man up.

“Rivals or not,” Kyle started, “This is serious.” He said as he opened the door and walked out, letting the door slam loudly behind him.

I hated so much that he cared. I hated that he cared enough to run after me as I ran out, unmedicated and panicking. And now, even the EBU was asking us to do promotional videos together, and I really needed to focus on rehearsing, but promotion was extremely important, so all I could do now was digress.
I got dressed, putting on low-rise flared jeans and a laced henley-top and the buttons done all the way. I put on burgundy converse to go with the rest of the fit, and voila. Ready for a shitty day of interviews. Yippee.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There’s no word in the English dictionary that could express my hatred for Kyle Alessandro. Right off the bat, he was late to the interviews. I anxiously tapped my foot on the ground as the interviewer awkwardly fiddled with their clipboard. My whole body was achy from the waiting. At that point, me and this poor girl had been standing there for a full 15 minutes before this bitch finally decided to show up.

“Shit…” He was panting, like he’d run here or something, “I thought the interview was scheduled 30 minutes later… I’m terrible at time management.” Kyle politely bowed to the girl, apologising profusely for his muck-up in planning.

“All good, Kyle.” The interviewer smiled sweetly, firmly shaking his hand as his other slid through this messy hair. “Now, let’s get started, shall we?” She walked over to a red door that was just a couple metres away from us and opened it up. A cozy, more spacious than the last couch could be seen inside and the walls looked like a youtuber’s homey podcast office, with plants and light yellow walls that reminded me of the sun.
Walking in there, I was immediately blinded by the lights.

“You two can sit down, get comfortable.” The interviewer’s kind, soft-spoken voice said as she sat down on the very left end of the couch. Both me and Kyle complied, awkwardly sitting down without so much as a word.

“3… 2… 1… start.” The camera man spoke in a gruff voice, and it startled me a little.

“Hello everyone, welcome back to Eurovision with Evee, today I'm here with the infamous rivals: Aurelia Hart from Lia et Claude and Kyle Alessandro!”
Both me and Kyle waved at the camera when she said our names.
“Lia, Kyle, How are you feeling?”

Kyle started “Well, everything is–”

“I’m so glad, and so grateful to be here, although It’s all very overwhelming,” I interrupted him, a smirk appearing on my face subconsciously, “and Kyle doesn’t really make it much easier.” I turned my head slightly to look at Kyle, and he looked like he was fuming. He almost actually looked like a lighter, his face becoming a pink, reddish colour that matched the door.

“Is that so?” Evee looked at Kyle and chuckled, presumably also noticing the red tint on his face, “Can you elaborate? What was your first impression, and how might that have changed?”

Kyle perked up, his eyes looking as though he was going through the five stages of grief without so much as moving a muscle.
“I could immediately tell that Lia was going to hate my guts the moment I tried to introduce myself.” He talked animatedly, his hands moving with his explanation, “She cut me off, and I had no choice but to awkwardly wedge myself out of the conversation after a journalist walked up to us asking if we were a couple, but now…” he pressed his lips together, “She’s not awful, not as horrible as I thought she was.”
I pulled a face, scrunching my nose up performatively.

Evee looked at me, biting on her lip gently as a grin formed on her face, “You look extremely opposed to his words, what about the difference between your first impression of him and your impression of him now?”

I laughed, “Easy, he was a complete and utter dick when we first met and he’s a complete and utter dick now. Not that much of a difference, really…”

“He doesn’t give you butterflies?” Evee’s smirk hadn’t faded, not in the slightest, not at all.

“Me? God, no.” I made a gagging motion.

“Does anyone in Eurovision give you butterflies, Kyle?” Evee clearly knew how to play her cards, but so did Kyle.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He smiled, winking at her and gently cracking his knuckles.

“Well..” She mumbled, clearly trying to hide the fact she was unsatisfied with our answers. She had more awful questions brewing, I could feel it.
“If you were to end up in a relationship, who would you last the longest with?”

Kyle chuckled, “Not Lia,” He looked at me and I could hear his every breath as he leaned in a bit too much, but not enough to indicate any romantic or sexual tension, “Lia would eat me alive.”

I gave him a sarcastic smile, “Only if you keep talking.”

“Well then, do you guys think either is attractive?” The blonde flashed her brown eyes in my direction, smiling sweetly.

“Well… Aurelia is pretty but–” The cameras immediately turned to Kyle, and he seemed to panic slightly as he realised what he’d just blurted out. “I wouldn’t date her though… She’s not awful,” Kyle said, quieter. “She just... makes it hard to breathe sometimes.”

Nice save. Really smooth. I was totally fine. Not like my ears were burning or that the pit in my stomach had just dropped into the core of the earth. Nope. All good.

“What's the most annoying thing about each other? What makes it so hard to breathe?”

“His existence.” I chuckled as I spoke
“Her existence.” he said, his words syncing with mine.

Evee giggled, looking at the camera and winking slightly as she tucked a blonde piece of hair behind her ear.
“What’s something about each other's ‘existence’ that the public doesn’t know?”

Shit.. what did the public not know about Kyle that I do? Absolutely nothing!

“Aurelia smokes.” Kyle smiled cheekily, and I internally groaned. Why does his smugness come with a precious smile? That’s not fair. “I see her, every night, smoking on the rooftop of our hotel. It’s fascinating, really. She always smokes around the same time.” His eyes were taunting me, and I could tell without even looking at him. He was burning holes into the back of my head with eye-lasers, or something.

“Well, have you ever joined her?” Evee crossed her legs and put her hands on her knees, leaning in slightly, “Not necessarily smoking, but just joined her instead of watching her in solitude.”

I watched as Kyle took a deep breath, forcing a small smile as he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like the smell of cigarettes and smoke,” He leaned back, “I would never.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes at his smug little “I would never…” and crossed my arms. That’s funny, considering how caring he’d been the other night. I would never . It rang over and over in my head.

“Does your habit make it harder for you to sing? What’s the most challenging part of performing?” Evee leaned back again, looking me dead in the eyes.

“The hardest part…” I mumbled, “Well that has nothing to do with smoking. I have a couple anxiety disorders, the hardest part of performing is trying not to panic through all the mix between hate and support.” I smiled softly, “Sure, stage fright can happen to anyone, and it’s one of the most common fears, but it’s not stage fright what I have. But, I don’t want that to be my identity at Eurovision: The Girl with PTSD… sounds like a shit title. I’d rather stand for awareness than gossip.”

“That’s beautiful, Lia.” Evee patted me on the shoulder, and I gave her a small smile in return.

“Thank you.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

The ride back to the hotel from the interview building was brutal, awkward silence between us in the uber as we passed by people taking pictures of us in the car every now and then. The driver tried to make smalltalk, but wasn’t given much in return. Same story as we walked into the hotel, the lobby empty and only the workers that were shuffling around luggage being there and speaking in hushed, velvety voices. I exhaled deeply as I pressed the elevator button and stood there, waiting with Kyle right behind me.
Ding!
It took me a couple seconds to process that the elevator had arrived, so Kyle pushed past me and walked in, but… he kept his foot in the doorway, keeping the elevator door open for me to walk through. Me and Kyle slept on separate floors, but when I walked in, I saw that he’d pressed the button for my floor.

“I thought you stayed on the sixth floor?” I tilted my head as I watched him pull his foot away from the door.

“I am, but I'm going to see Sissal.” Kyle mumbled, shyly looking away from me and scratching his eyebrow slightly. His foot was tapping on the ground to a beat, presumably one he might be singing in his head, but I just assumed it was nerves. I was nervous, too. He was standing oddly close to me.

“Lia…” He muttered quietly, making me jerk my head up and look at him, one eyebrow raised as I responded with a hushed “Hm?”

“You know I’m not trying to make your life hard, right?” he looked back at me, his eyebrows furrowed in a worried-like manner.
I adjusted my posture, looking down at the floor as he just stared at me, maybe asking for forgiveness, or just being sweet, like Úlla insisted he was, but I just sighed.

“I find that hard to believe.” My grudge wouldn’t falter anytime soon, or so I told myself.

“You find that…” he repeated to himself, whispering. I could feel his world crumble, and I genuinely didn’t mean to hurt his feelings all that bad, but I wholeheartedly believed that he deserved being treated like a rival.

The elevator fell silent with only the soft hum of the elevator moving up to keep a bit of sound in the air. The quietness of it all was deafening, leaving the obvious tension between us to grow faster than fire spreads.
Ding!
The elevator finally got to the 4th floor after what felt like an eternity, and I started to walk out, expecting Kyle to do the same so he could visit Sissal, but he didn’t budge, he just stood there… like a fucking muppet.

“You’re mad at me now? Fucking asshole–”

“No.” Kyle cut me off, “I just care more than you think.” That’s all. Like that was a small thing. Like that didn’t just slice into my brain and set off every alarm I’d been ignoring since I met him.

I scoffed as he started getting closer, “You don’t act like it..”

“Well, it’s not like you care much about me, hm?” I was just now realising how close he’d actually gotten. He was so close, I could feel his hot breath on my ear as he leaned into it slightly and whispered, “You don’t care about me, but that makes me want you.”

I got chills down my spine, my face turning bright red and he slowly backed up to where he had been earlier before walking up to me and pressed his floor’s number. And all I did was take a step back, letting the elevator door close as I looked him in the eye, noticing the tiny smirk that was spread across his face.

I froze.
“WHAT THE FU—”

Chapter 4: Claude Deserves Financial Compensation

Notes:

sorry yall its been like a month since ive updated this damn fic byut i swear it wasnt on purpose i love yall anyways have a good read lol

My whole week had now been a complete rollercoaster of emotions, and now it was the day before the semi-finals. Claude convinced me to delete social media at this point, so I didn't have to deal with online haters who were shameless. I deleted instagram, tiktok and twitter (or X, if you’re one of those people) off my phone to avoid getting an actual effect from the harassment, and it was kind of working, but I’d still woken up exhausted. I had barely gotten any sleep, replaying the elevator conversation in my head over and over again.
“You don’t care about me, but that makes me want you.”
It played repeatedly in my head, scratchy like a broken record.
But now I was sitting at rehearsal, trying to get my mind off of it. My makeup artist definitely noticed something was off, she even asked me.

“Sleep roughly last night?” She said as she put some concealer on my undereyes, “Your eyebags are heavier than usual.”

I waved her off, telling her I was just nervous. Everyone was nervous, no doubt. I could tell Sissal and Marty had barely slept either. Sissal was sluggish and kind of zoned out, standing next to Marty like the two shared a brain cell. Ofcourse, Hálfdán and Mattí were energetic, per usual, with their dancers standing next to them like the brothers just put a spell on them as all three of them sipped hot coffees.

The practicing room was a tiny little stage, like a small stand-up comedy stage, and it felt way too small for how big Eurovision was and how rich the organisers were. My vocal coach and Claude also noticed something was wrong, but they weren't as forward about it.
“Everyone’s energy is a bit low today, Lia, but we really need to get this high note down.” My vocal coach said as he fixed my posture to get my head voice the best it can sound. Suddenly, we heard the door open and guess who the fuck walked through the doors. Have you guessed yet?
He just looked at me with those doe-eyed orbs, stopping in his tracks as he looked at his manager, who had been behind him, in disbelief.

“You told me…” He stopped himself, looking back at me with confusion evident in his eyes.

“They overbooked…” The manager told him, her eyebrows furrowing, “If I knew they’d booked us with Claude and Lia I would’ve tried to change our schedule.”

I groaned, looking over at Claude with an annoyed expression. He had one eyebrow raised and his arms crossed as he looked at Kyle. He had heard about 40 hours worth of my tangents on Kyle, and was starting to understand my vendetta against him, especially after that stunt he pulled the night before.

“We’ll practice over there, then…” My coach smiled at the others sweetly, pointing at the other side of the room. The stage and the other side of the room were pretty far apart, far enough to practice separately, but not far enough to make me forget he was there.
When I was taking a quick water break, I could hear him singing, and I hated admitting it, but it actually sounded good. Then, out of nowhere, I realised what he was singing. It wasn’t his own song, Lighter, no.. That was my song!

“C’est la vie, quel miracle,” I listened as he sang, my verse, my voice, but it felt like I was the one stealing something. An octave lower, casual, like he wasn’t ripping my skin off with every note. My head turned to look in his direction. He didn't seem to notice me looking at him. “Sometimes in love, sometimes misérable.” And the worst part of it all, he actually looked attractive whilst singing it.

“Don’t look at him,” Claude said softly, like he was giving me advice on how not to summon a demon. “It feeds him.” I let out a sharp laugh when he said it, but it came out wrong. Bitter. Cracked.

Kyle looked at us and continued singing, but instead of just keeping a normal expression on his face, he fucking groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Are you fucking with us, Helgesen?” I snapped before I could stop myself.

He looked up, surprised. “What? No. I was… I just like your song..” He paused. “It’s stuck in my head.”

“Right.” I turned back to my coach. “Let’s just take it from the bridge.”

My ears were hot. My palms were sweaty. And I hated, hated , how much that comment stuck in my head too.

—---------------------------------------------------

Rehearsal had gone on for hours, and my voice wasn’t hoarse just yet, but I could feel my throat starting to itch. Not because of the singing, but because of the huge lump that formed everytime he looked my way. I knew he was because he was burning holes in the back of my head with his stare.

“Lia! Lia, are you hearing me?” I heard a voice calling out my name and I snapped back to reality, completely dismissing Kyle’s eyes that were still on me. I had been so distracted by him staring, I missed my cue. My coach was starting to lose patience. I had been out-of-it all day and no one could tell why, and neither could I.

“Sorry…” I mumbled, my hands clenching into a fist, leaving my knuckles turning white as paper.

“Are you okay? You seem really spacey today.”

“I’m just tired.”

My coach raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t question it further. “Take five, then.”

I nodded slowly and walked out of the hallway, my breaths shaky as I tried to keep my body upright.
I felt like I was gonna collapse as my whole body started quivering and sweating. It almost felt as though someone was sitting on my chest and making it hard to breathe, with inhales sounding crackly and exhales having a slight wheezing sound to it. Tears were swelling up in my eyes, making my vision blurry to the point where I almost fell down a flight of stairs.
Instead of immediately running after I stumbled upon the staircase, I sat down, my head in my hands as I started sobbing my eyes out. I couldn’t tell why I was breaking down like that… I had been taking my medication, and nothing especially triggering actually happened, so why was I crying as though someone had died?

“Auri,” I heard behind me, and I spun around quicker than a carnival ride gone rogue. Luckily, it was just Claude this time. I turned back around and looked at my hands, ready to storm off to avoid having to explain myself, before Claude spoke again: “Ga niet rennen, alsjeblieft, ik weet dat je het gaat doen.”

The words were a bus, and suddenly I was Regina George. So I stayed, frozen except for my hands that started fiddling with the ends of my dress.

“You’re spiralling,” Claude mumbled, sitting next to me and holding my hand and wrapping his arm around me, “I know he has something to do with this, and i'm not going to start with that, but i need you to know that I’m always here if you need to talk. I don't expect you to tell me everything, but please, let me know if he's giving you a hard time.”

“Claude…” My voice was cracking and my eyes were puffy as I looked at him. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was smiling slightly. Claude’s smiling was comforting, to a degree. His smile was sweet and kind. Worried, but kind. It just let me overthink, though. What if he's laughing at me? “I’m fine, Ik ben alleen een beetje moe.”

“Mensen die ‘alleen moe’ zijn gaan vaak niet op de trap zitten huilen. You always say you're fine when you're not,” he said, brushing mascara off my cheek. “It’s okay to be not fine.”

I bit my cheek and looked back down at the floor, my hands covered in mascara that claimed to be waterproof. I sighed, taking out a pocket mirror and taking in my reflection after opening it. My mascara had run down my face dramatically, with the small wipe that Claude had made, like I was in a movie, and my lipgloss had smudged.

“Do you feel any better..?” Claude gently rubbed my shoulder, keeping his arm wrapped around me closely.

“No,” I sniffed, looking up at my best friend again, “But I will.”