#sslnwrites

"Please make sure he drinks some water, yeah? If you need any more help, call me. Night."

That's the last you talked with Teun, aka Tantu, before you headed home with a very drunk Joost. You can still hear his stumbling giggles and trembling voice as he sings the lyrics to some song he likes. He's been through pretty much all of his repertoire, including his own songs. Now he's just laying in bed, red faced and muttering the lyrics to Droom Groot under his breath as he lets out a sigh.

You walk back to the bed with a bottle of water and hold it to his lips to drink. He does, before slumping back with another childish laughter. Joost is very hit and miss when he drinks - some nights he's angst and sadness and some, like this one, he's the life of the party and living his best life.

You carefully take off his glasses and put them on the nightstand before helping him out of his shirt and pants. Just so he's more comfortable. Then you grab a t-shirt and put it on him. You'll get these clothes in the laundry tomorrow.

"You're soooo good at taking care of me..." His words slur with a slightly stupid tone. The same playfulness his voice has in the least serious songs. "You're an aaaaangel. Like an actual angel."

You can't help but laugh and shake your head. Nah, you're not. You're just happy to be of help.

"What would I be without you... Probable a drunk as fuck mess lying down in a random corner in Leeuwarden..." His hands rise with his arms, as he looks at the ceiling through his fingers. "But I'm here in my bed with you... I'm soooo lucky..."

He quickly turns around, and you melt at the sight. His big blue eyes stare from the pillow with that puppy stare that's so natural on him. Your hand threads through blond hair to caress it in slow pats. You lean in and kiss his forehead. He tries to lean up for a kiss, which you doubtfully concede, but when he tries to to kiss you more and pull you closer, you shake your head. No, sir, you're drunk and not thinking.

"Augh, come on... I'm sure sober me would appreciate it..." He pouts, but you stand your ground and shake your head. You'll gladly kiss and give him what he wants in the morning, but not now when he reeks of beer. "Ugh... Fair enough, fair..."

There's a small moment of sheepish, almost apologetic silence, before he speaks again with the same pout in his voice.

"Can I at least get some more cuddles?"

The door of Joost's apartment opened and closed. You could hear music blaring from the inside. Instead of the usual Happy Hardcore or Gabberpop playlists he listens to all the time, this time you hear Manchild by Sabrina Carpenter, and you hear his voice doing his best to sing along to the melody. It's frankly adorable, and the pain in your heart subsides just a little bit as you settle your things down in the living room, announcing you're back.

Joost is in the kitchen space, with a ladle on his hand pretending to sing, wearing a blue striped apron. It's almost dinnertime, and you can smell something good cooking. Judging by the smell of onions, it's probably soup or another comfort dish. When he hears your voice, he turns around with a smile, but you see it quickly fade when he sees how miserable you're looking.

"Oh, no, what happened to you, my sweet little onion?" He doesn't turn the music off, but rather he turns down the volume. He immediately walks over to you and takes his hands into yours, if you allow it. You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before any words get out, and you see him shake his head. "No, no, no, come on, don't cry... Come here, come here..."

His arms open and then wrap around you with a gentle warmth, in the kindest embrace there is. He slowly shushes you and pets your hair to calm you down, but doesn't do anything to stop the tears once they started flooding - he knows you need it. So he stays there, holding you for as long as you need, cradling you into his arms.

"All better now?" He asks, speaking softly into your ear when he feels the sobs quiet down. Whether you nod or shake your head, he presses a kiss to your forehead and guides you with him to the kitchen so you can see what he's cooking. It looks like a very comforting stew.

"Hachee", he explains. "My sister taught me my mom's recipe. Special cure for bad days. When you sent me that text that the day wasn't going as well, I ran to the grocery store. It's still a while before it's done, so if you want, we can sit down and unwind, yes? You don't need to tell me what's wrong if you don't want to, you can just sit down while I enjoy my tunes... Or wait, do you wanna turn it off, or put your own music? Either way, I'm here for you, schatje. I'll always be."

Another kiss to your temple, and then slow kisses on your neck to bring you a little extra comfort. Fluttering contacts that put your heart at ease, and that remind you why you chose him in the first place.

A gentle light enters the room where curtains have been pulled to avoid the last rays of the golden hour from interrupting the precious sacredness of the bedroom. It's messy - clothes on the floor, old CDs and memories scattered everywhere, and there's also an open suitcase still not done. The faint smell of cigarettes still burns in a nearby ashtray. You might or might not have contributed to it. It depends on whether you smoke or not.

Either way, the one who does ceirtainly smoke is the man curled up in bed, hugging the pillow. He always forgets he's not sleeping on his own when you're there, but you don't complain. It's so cute to watch him like that. There's something so genuine and warm about the image. Not that Joost was ever secretive or hard to read, he always wore his heart on his sleeve. But this version... Somehow has even more raw emotion.

Your fingers gently thread through the pale hair. He barely stirs, a small sound escaping his throat. Half protest, half comfort. He doesn't really like people touching him much, but you've had a pass for a while. Such luck. He even invited you over to help him pack before his world tour begins, but then chose to take a small nap so he wouldn't be tired by the time he got to the airport. And that's why you were there right now.

You keep petting his hair slowly, until a blue eye opens and peeks up at you.

"Having fun there?" His voice asks in a sleepy amusement, as he grabs your wrist and stamps a small kiss on your palm. "Cute..."

No, he's cute, you reply, and you can hear the small chuckle from those parted lips that now open in a wide yawn. He stretches his arms and then flops back into the pillow. You slowly put his head in your lap and continue to pet his hair.

"I have to finish packing up for Buenos Aires... Man, first time in Latin America... Ain't that crazy?" Joost rambles, but you let him. You like hearing the enthusiasm in his voice. "I can't believe so many people wanna go see me, a little weirdo from the Netherlands doing weird shit... It's still like a dream! Mom and dad must be so proud of me... Like you are, right?"

Of course you are. But you're gonna miss him so much when he's gone. Joost sighs and shakes his head, sitting up.

"None of that, my sweet little onion", he shakes his head. You still can't get used to the pet name, but it sounds as adorable as it is unusual. "I'll call you every day and every night. You'll get the scoops first", he grabs your face between his hands, squeezing your cheeks a bit. And then he smiles. That little smile he does that disarms you in seconds. "So you won't have to miss me because it's like I'm not gone at all. I'll bring you fridge magnets and all that touristy shit if you want."

You can't help but laugh. But you nod anyway. Sounds like a plan. When you ask what he'll do about the time difference, he just shrugs.

"Let future Joost handle that", he says. "My present is with you now, ain't it?"

You nod, and lean in to kiss his cheeks, then pepper kisses all over his face. You hear the small flustered giggle on his voice when you hug him by the neck to continue kissing his face, over and over. And you feel his face grow hotter, too. It's frankly adorable.

Joost is the one who leans in for a kiss on the lips, holding your face between his hands. He then stays for long moments just resting his forehead against yours, in silence. You stare at each other's eyes, and close them as well, just to feel the connection. The room feels warm and cozy, like a hug.

He kisses your forehead and then pulls away slowly, his hands caressing your arms.

Lucio felt the ringing in his ears even well after the press conferences and everything had ended. The final night of Sanremo, the curtain drop of a contest that he had always dreamt of, like every young musician does at some point of their career. The one chance to let all of Italy (and potentially, all of Europe too) know who you were, where you stood and what was your soul like.

Tomasso and him couldn't believe their eyes or ears when they saw the final scorings — a fraction of percentage separated him from the winner, the guy he had to wipe tears off and hold before he crumbled like a Jenga tower in the last move. Olly was a gentle soul, despite his intimidating height and serious yet awkward expression. He felt it in the way he spoke and the way his hand wrapped around his fragile waist to give back the hug Lucio had given him. Every single figment of that win was deserved.

"So uh, do you wanna go celebrate, Lu?" Tomasso asked, a big grin on his face.

"You can go", he chose to say, stretching his arms up. "I'll drop by and see how Fede is doing. How he's holding up and such."

"Fine then, I'll go to sleep because honestly, I am deceased", the guitarist let out a sigh. "Man, it's like my bones were spaghetti. Remind me I'm getting old, won't you?", this caused Lucio to laugh.

"I'll try, but you don't really look like an aging guy. Look at my wrinkles instead, I'm the one who should be complaining."

"Nah, don't worry man. Tell Fede I said congrats and stuff. Good night and don't come back too late."

A pat on his shoulder and Tomasso was gone. Lucio sighed and looked at the messages on his phone to scroll up and look for the room number he had been given nights before. They had met up to play some card games and whatnot, but always accompanied. It'd be the first time Lucio would actually be alone with him in the same room.

Gentle knocks on the door triggered the click of the door from the inside to let it open. A smile formed on Federico's face when he saw who it was - the half-smeared mime makeup was so recognizable. Lucio's gentle expression turned into a slight frown when he saw his red eyes. Still, he made his way into the room and took his jacket off to only remain in his mesh shirt. Luckily, the heating was pretty good.

"Something wrong, Fede?"

"Nah, Lu, I'm fine... I'm just... Overwhelmed. Everyone is congratulating me at once and the phone won't stop ringing and then everyone starts asking about Eurovision and I don't even know what I'm gonna have for breakfast tomorrow..." Federico sighed in frustration. "I kinda need a break."

"I can leave if you want to rest up", Lucio was already walking back to the doorway.

"Please, stay. Lucio, I beg you to stay because if I'm alone with my thoughts it's gonna be worse."

"Okay", the long-haired man sat down on the bed, thin arms stretched out. "Hug?"

Federico nodded and slumped right beside him to melt into his arms. Despite being much older, Lucio was so tiny compared to him. The contrast was strange but nice. And the way Lucio held him in his arms felt alright. One squeeze from those arms and all of his doubts and the mental noise were gone in one sweep. The warmth, the confort... It felt so good.

"You did great", the guitarist said, lips pressed against his ear. "You did awesome. I swear you deserve every single bit of this victory. Don't let your head trick you."

"I know... I know. I just... Wish I knew why I don't think that leaving my career on hold for a while in favor of Eurovision doesn't feel right. I mean, I'd be stupid to throw away such a chance."

"Gentle words, please", Lucio's fingers combed his hair. "You are talking to a friend of mine, after all."

"Lucio..."

"Federico."

"Come on now..."

A small smile and chuckle came out of the mime's lips, lifting Federico's head gently until they were looking at each other.

"It's not stupid if you don't feel ready. And you don't need to have your answer right now. I know it looks like a lot. But in the morning you can have a talk with your team and look it over in more detail. You are tired and overwhelmed, and you won't think as clear. "

"Right..." Federico sighed in defeat. "You always have the right words."

"Only for the right people. And you, my friend, are one of the best people I could surround myself with."

Gentle lips pressed themselves against Olly's forehead, in a protective and caring gesture. As if a single forehead kiss could work to scare all bad thoughts and anxieties away, like some sort of sponge that could be wringed out later. It somehow felt like so, though.

"Lucio... Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Anything you ask me, I will do. But do me a favor first and go take a shower. You need to relax your body and I'm sure the heat will help. I'll be waiting here."

A nod, and Federico stood up from the bed to grab a towel before going to the bathroom to get the water running. He didn't come out for at least fifteen minutes, choosing to heed Lucio's advice and not rush it. Just let the heat relax his tense muscles and reset everything. When he went out of the room, he quickly got changed into his pajamas, a black and gray outfit with pants and a long sleeved shirt. Lucio had taken the liberty to open the sheets and lay on the other side of the bed.

"Feeling a bit better?" He asked as Federico sat down and then laid on the bed. A small frown appeared on his lips as he got up and picked a towel up. "Make sure your hair is fully dry..."

"It's okay, I mean, the room is warm."

"Just let me make sure as well", another gentle touch when those hands grabbed the towel and dried his slightly damp hair, before putting the towel away. When Federico laid on the bed, Lucio turned the lamplight off.

"Man... I like your hugs", the younger man said, which was like asking for another hug indirectly. Lucio got the hint quickly and wrapped his thin arms around his body again.

"And I like yours too. I liked how your hands felt around my waist."

"Like so?" Fede cupped Lucio's waist again, which earned him a small nod.

"You are a gentle soul as well. You just haven't realized it yet. Everyone has gentleness and kindness inside them. But some people are quick to forget..."

"You aren't one of them. I'm grateful for you being here."

"I'll always be."

A small moment of silence passed before Federico talked again. The hesitation was evident on his voice, like if he had been thinking about this question for a long while but was still unsure about the idea.

"Lucio... You'd do anything for me, right?"

"As long as it's legal."

"... If I asked for a kiss..."

Silence took over the room for a while. Federico was already regretting asking the question and was ready to get an apology out, but the feeling of soft lips against his own cut down all his thoughts at once. It was not a long kiss, just a couple of seconds at most, but it was enough to make things right.

"There. Take it as a goodnight kiss."

"We are still friends, right?"

"Oh Fede... That's a silly question. Of course we still are. Friends can also kiss, you know. It's just a gesture of affection. To me, at least."

"... Goodnight, Lucio. Thank you."

"Rest well, champion."

It didn't take much longer for Federico to fall asleep, since it had been a long day full of emotions. So just some moments after that interaction had happened, Lucio carefully got up, pulled the sheets a bit more over Federico's body and walked out of the room as silently as possible to go back to his own.

Being a tough guy was definitely overrated.

Gentleness was what kept the world moving.