“jutri je nov dan!”

Bojan never imagined that his life would turn out the way it did. He was a full-time musician and his job was to make music, play and hang out at interviews and to a point, drink and laugh with friends (even if it was for public appearances).

They’d just finished their biggest show yet; Karneval. There’d been 17 thousand people present at the show, and despite it nearly going to shit they still managed to get the go ahead and absolutely kill it. After the show he got off stage with Jere and hugged him tightly, tears of relieved joy pouring down his cheeks as he kept expressing how happy he was to be able to play the show by his best friends’ sides and experience it all before he even turned thirty.

Still, he felt eyes on him. He thought it’d be normal, considering people were seeking the band out to congratulate them for their show—and more so usually him, considering he was the singer, not to brag—when Jere pointed it out to him.

“Kris is staring, eh…jealous?” he muttered to him, as if he was trying to find the perfect word to describe it. Bojan turned his head slightly and there he was; his jaw was clenched and his arms were crossed as he glared at the two with disdain. Bojan wanted to laugh.

He’d known Kris long enough to know what his feelings looked like, and that was jealousy for sure. It was usually most prominent when some stranger was taking his friends’ attention away from him and Kris could admit it was one of his worst traits, (which was something Bojan knew from their late night conversations) but it didn’t mean he was too keen on changing it.

Eventually Jan dragged the other guitarist away to try to cool him off while Bojan and Jere continued laughing and chatting blissfully.

Soon enough a hand was placed on Bojan’s shoulder and tugged him back a bit, his other hand splaying over Bojan’s chest as Kris forced a friendly smile on his face in front of Jere.

“Came over to say hi and congrats to you too,” Kris smiled and leaned closer to the singer, looking at Jere as well “and you too, Jere. I’m genuinely so happy you still got to play for a while, even if it wasn’t, well…ideal,” Kris smiled sheepishly at the finnish man who patted Kris’ shoulder before sensing that Kris wanted to spend some time alone with Bojan and went to find his parents after a final hug to both of them.

“So…jealous much?” Bojan teased and leaned his hand up to ruffle Kris’ hair. The blond groaned and the two stepped to a corner, picking up waters on the way and sitting down together.

“i’m…it’s not-“ Kris tried explaining, huffing out a breath. “You didn’t even look at me after the gig. I wanted our moment and i wanted us to y’know…hang out a little?” he shrugged and leaned closer to the singer. “I really want a moment with you alone.” Kris confessed and placed his head onto Bojan’s shoulder who hummed softly and petted his hair.

“Well i’m all yours now,” Bojan tired reassuring. Kris scoffed and rolled his eyes, pulling him back into his body:

“You’re always mine.” Kris muttered and leaned in for a soft peck, and hummed quietly, resting his face back into the crook of Bojan’s neck, sighing contently when Bojan confirmed with a hum, and let his hand wander into Kris’ hair to push it out of his face.

Bojan had been stuck with thinking about what he was going to do for months now. He was telling his friends and family that he’d made the right choice, that he was happy, to study economics, but the hole in his chest got bigger and bigger and with that worse off.

He dreaded going to lectures to the point of skipping them, pretended to do something regarding his course but instead practiced writing in spanish to keep in touch with a friend of his from primary school that was visiting Spain for a bit or tried writing some more lyrics while looking out of the window.

The rest of his friends genuinely enjoyed university, so he felt like something was wrong with him; Jan was talking about math stuff he was learning and some sort of theories he was finding out about while Martin studied maths and comp sci, so he was having a field day writing code in java and C or whatever else he did over there with his ‘discrete structures’.

Even Kris, who was in his last year of high school knew what he wanted. He signed up for chemical engineering because he liked chemistry and was good at it and in case the band wouldn’t work out (which was bullshit, because it obviously would) he’d have a reputable career as an option.

So everyone was normal, except for him.

He’d lay in bed at night and think about what it’d be like, studying something else. He thought about moving to media, or maybe communications or something, yet something always drew him back to sociology.

It was an interesting concept; he liked it in high school, had a good professor who knew how to present the topics well enough and the idea of learning about how society worked seemed…genuinely exciting.

But surely, that couldn’t be it, right?

But the longer he thought about it, the more he yearned to do something he liked, he could excel in. He was already doing poorly in university and people around him saw him as a guy who didn’t take school seriously—which wasn’t true, thank you very much, so it seemed like a viable option.

He was sat in a cafe near the math faculty, waiting for Jan to be done with classes. He’d usually go to Martin first, obviously, on one of their usual evening walks, but Martin was really busy with signing up for exchange programs and meetings for it, so his next option was Jan. He waited patiently for the dark haired man to show up after his lecture, having already ordered a coffee for himself.

The cold January air made him wrap himself up in a scarf and a thick jacket, his hands still shivering as he lit himself a cigarette from nervousness, his mothers voice disapproving of his unhealthy habit in his head. He took another drag. He’d apologised to his mother later when she eventually asked why he smelled like smoke.

Jan approached soon enough and sat down, apologising for the wait while hastily lighting his own cigarette and ordering a coffee for himself. They updated each other briefly, Jan noticing how Bojan became increasingly nervous, his brows furrowing with worry.

“Can I tell you something?” he suddenly spat out “and I need you to talk me out of it in case it’s stupid.” Bojan stuttered out, looking at his friend with a serious look.

Jan blinked confused before pursing his lips and nodding “o…kay. Tell me, Bojč.” he smiled encouragingly.

“I want to switch majors to sociology because i genuinely hate economics because it’s so useless and dreadful to me right now but maybe i’m just going through it because i’m like pissed off at the exam season and i’m kinda overwhelmed? maybe i shouldn’t do it. this is stupid, forget it,” he shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.

“I think you should do it,” Jan said instead. Upon his friend looking up at him confused he chose to elaborate: “I don’t mean it in a mean way, but…if i’d see anybody I know study sociology it’d be you. You’re communicative, you enjoy working with people, you seek this type of thing out. I don’t, neither does Martin or Matic. Kris, maybe, but he wants to do chemistry. You, however, and again, I’m not trying to be a dick, are the perfect guy for it. You should do it.” he offered Bojan a smile and a nod, watching the singer practically deflate relief.

“You’re right. I think I should do it,” he said more so to himself, to hype himself up.

Jan smiled and the two went on to talk about other things.

While Bojan was in the bathroom, Jan texted Martin:

Jan:

He’s gonna transfer to sociology :)

Martin:

The snow was starting to fall in late November as Joked Out prepared for their album release concert in cvetličarna. They’d been especially careful to not get sick or injured just to keep things running smooth, but somehow (unsurprisingly) Jan had gotten sick, taking Nace right down with him.

Now the two were curled up in bed, both sporting a fever as they had their quiet scrolling time for a while before they’d have to get up to shower, make some more tea and eat some more soup to keep them healthy.

Silently, Jan rolled over and curled up under Nace’s warm arm, turning away to cough violently before groaning and pushing his face into the older’s clothes back. He muttered something incoherently before stretching and standing up, walking out of their bedroom to where Nace assumed to be the kitchen. He was proved right moments later when he heard the kettle turn on and Jan came back to collect their mugs to wash and to make new tea in (Chamomile for Jan and Hibiscus for Nace), arriving around ten minutes later with two steaming mugs and placing them on their respectful night stands.

He immediately plopped back in bed onto the bassist, humming tiredly as he curled up under the sheets to fall asleep, ignoring the fact that his tea was getting cold.

Each time he fell asleep he woke up in the dreamscape.

At first it had been a long open field with flowers and trees alike, the light just a tad too perfect to be real. The stars in the sky seemed to be painted and textured rather than a real night sky and the gentle evening breeze urging him a certain direction felt a tad too cartoonish for him.

At first he began exploring the world he’d ’wake up’ in. He swam in the rivers and oceans, not needing to hold his breath as he explored the deep ocean waters without the fear of the pressure. He hiked up mountains without training and ran for hours in the field without breaking a sweat. Eventually, it got slightly boring for him.

So his mind brought a new companion.

At first it switched up often; From Jan to his mom, to his sister and so on, each night he was able to show someone he loved around the dreamscape and show them how he’d been spending his nights. They were always so loving and forgiving yet just a tad off for his taste (understandably so, considering it was his imagination that fabricated the interaction) until his brain landed on, well Bojan.

The first night he showed him around the grass fields and in turn Bojan made him a flower crown, placing it over his head as they looked around together. The second night he came back; They ran around the mountains and swam in the oceans and soon enough Kris was trying to nap through the day and sleep in for just a minute longer if it meant he could have this. If it meant he could have him so openly.

Unlike his other companions Bojan felt real, like he was actually in his dreams with him. The touch felt more real and his breath on Kris’ skin felt the same way it did in real life whenever they hugged as a greeting. Slowly but surely they got closer and closer and soon enough got married in a weird troll wedding that only a dream could inspire. From then on they explored, discovered and loved each other in such a naïve, sweet way it made Kris’ heart squeeze with comfort.

He stood in his bathroom and stared at his reflection silently, his eyes trained on the droplet of blood seeping out of his nose. He patiently waited for it to finally drip into the sink next to the other four droplets from the last few minutes, huffing a slightly disgusted huff through his nose as the dark red liquid finally dripped and covered the surface, turning into an orangey colour instead.

He hated himself for letting it get this far.

The band had been in Hamburg for the last week or so, trying to record an album. Trying, being the key word here, considering just how shit everything had been. Maybe they shouldn’t have toured for the previous two months or so if they wanted to make an album.

He admitted that he let himself get carried away, but that’s just who he was. He was stressed, burnt out and tired and the rest of the band trying to have a good time certainly weren’t helping. Kris was (despite his own exhaustion) trying to do something along with Nace. Jure was a shell of a man and Jan, well, Jan had been the problem.

He understood that the older man was dealing with his own shit in his own way, that it wasn’t easy for him either, but Bojan just couldn’t help but to wonder if Jan had been fucking with his head on purpose. Maybe he saw how annoyed Bojan had gotten with how far behind they were falling and just how snappy he’d been, so he decided to just pounce.

It started off with simple comments; ‘Relax, Bojč, we’ll get it’ or ‘Dude, it’s fine. just shut up and let me fucking record the take.’ before it turned into ‘damn Bojan, thankfully you’ve still got the face, if not the voice.’ and a douchy ‘content’s good, the music is shit though.’

And maybe it’d been the lack of sleep or just the self-satisfied smirk on Jan’s face that made him snap, but it didn’t matter because in a split second Bojan was across the room, shoving Jan’s guitar out of his grasp onto the floor with a satisfying bang before landing a right hook onto the guitarists face. Jan groaned and grabbed his nose but quickly retaliated and soon enough they were fighting on the floor, both taking punches as the other three tried separating them. Jan had gotten a good strangle on the singer and a good three punches to the teeth in before he was pulled away by Kris and lead out of the recording room, Bojan being pulled away in a similar manner by Nace, Jure staying behind to clean up any stray blood off the carpeted floor.

So there Bojan was, cleaning up in the bathroom as Nace checked Jan over for a broken nose while Bojan sulked in the bathroom and stared at himself. A knock interrupted his self pity, Jure stepping into the room and crossing his arms.

“You’re a fucking moron for doing that.” The blond man said pointedly, raising his brows. Bojan trained his eyes onto his shirt instead, choosing not to look up at the drummer.

“I mean seriously. Yeah, Jan was being annoying, sure, but you can’t just fucking punch the guy!” He finally exploded, waiting to see if he’d get a reaction out of the younger man.

He got a hum of confirmation and a nod.

“Can you at least fucking admit how stupid this shit is?” Jure groaned and rubbed his face “Just- fucking fix it you two. I don’t care anymore,” he shoved past the singer and closed the door as a finality, leaving Bojan alone once more.

The moon shone brightly down on the floor. Jan and Kris were sat in the grass at the Ljubljana castle, choosing to ditch the dorm party they were invited to for the start of the uni year. They stared down at the city quietly, both of them choosing comforting silence over poor attempts of filling the silence for a while. Jan kept glancing over at Kris; he was nineteen years old and despite Jan being only twenty, in his eyes, Kris was his little brother.

He’d seen the boy grow up so much over the last few years, growing in height, growing into his face slowly with his voice mutating eventually, making him go from a high pitched child-like voice, to one of a young man. Still, his voice wasn’t as low as Jan’s (nor would it ever be) but the older felt almost proud seeing the man Kris had become.

“Do you ever think we’ll make it?” Kris suddenly asked. He looked over at Jan who blinked to shake himself out of his thoughts and rubbed his chin.

The truth was, Jan didn’t know. He hoped they would. Sure, mathematicians was interesting and he liked learning about the concepts, but was it the thing he wanted to do with his life?

Jan’s silence seemed to answer Kris’ question, making him continue talking while looking at the ground, picking at his shoe laces and poking his ankle with them.

“I’m scared i’ll never be as good as my dad,” he finally admitted and huffed dejectedly.

“Kris-“

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t compare like that, but…Sometimes i’m angry that he gave me such big shoes to fill and I’m scared I’ll never get to fulfil them. His expectations, I mean.” he turned to Jan and smiled pained. Jan’s expression softened as he thought of a way to comfort him. He put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a side hug, rubbing his arm comfortingly.

“We’ll make it, Kris. We’ll sell out Stožice and we’ll go worldwide famous,” he said, the sentence sounding overdramatic in his own head. Despite it all, Kris laughed and leaned his head onto Jan’s shoulder, shuffling closer to him in the cool night.

“We’ll sell out Wembley,” he joked, the absurdity of it making Jan laugh.

“By twenty thirty, if we start now,” Jan joked back, grabbing his phone to check the time.

“On Wednesday, October twenty-third at twenty three fifty nine, we’re making the promise to sell out Wembley stadium by twenty thirty.” Jan laughed and and pulled Kris in a real hug then, rubbing his back, feeling the blond man patting his back too.

Kris was fucking pissed.

It hadn’t been ten minutes since they stepped off the stage after karneval, their biggest concert yet, and Bojan was already all over Käärijä.

Jere, his brain unhelpfully supplied.

He clenched his jaw as he glanced at the two men hugging and Jere comforting Bojan (his bandmate, mind you) while he cried happy, relieved tears. He tried facing Jure and Jan, who were hugging their girlfriends while Nace chatted with Bojan’s mom about how well the concert went despite the heavy storm that happened.

Despite him trying to look away from the scene his eyes kept finding the duo, the bitter feeling in his chest bubbling and his stomach burning with indescribable jealousy. And Kris was mature enough to admit that it was in fact jealousy, but just because he could acknowledge it to himself it didn’t mean he’d be ready to voice it out loud.

“Stop staring,” Jan’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his warm hand tugging him towards the drinks by his bicep with a knowing look only a long term friend could muster.

“‘m not.” he muttered and threw his head back as he gulped the champagne from the glass in one go. The other guitarist’s lips pursed as he looked at the younger unimpressed, blinking at him with secondhand embarrassment that made Kris squirm with discomfort.

“‘m serious,” he repeated, more so trying to convince himself rather that to fool Jan.

“I’m sure you are,” he huffed out a laugh, making Kris glare at him. They stood in silence for a bit, Jan knowingly waiting for the inevitable complaining Kris would do.

“You know what’s crazy?” he suddenly said, and yep, there it was.

“Tell me,” Jan sighed dejectedly.

“We have the biggest gig of our lives, and instead of celebrating with us, he’s eye fucking Jere in the back,” Kris hissed quietly, pointing his finger back at the two immaturely. Jan rubbed his temples and sighed before grabbing his shoulders and rubbing the skin with his thumbs to calm him.

“How about you take a deep breath, stop assuming they’re ’eye fucking’ and go over to talk to him? I’m sure Bojč would be more than happy to entertain you too,” Jan offered, already pushing him towards the two men who were deep in conversation.