Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“If you don’t want to comply with our set of rules then you can just go sleep outside tonight!” The voice of a father whose patience had since run thin bellowed through the hollow woods that surrounded the house, some could argue that he never had patience in the first place.

Kyle felt his face hit the cold icy concrete, the sound of the door shutting behind him following just seconds after. He had a shelter in the woods, just a little fort that first started out as just a pile of sticks leaned up against eachother but has since progressed to be more sustainable for him to stay in for longer periods of time, he would make his way over there after a couple moments of recovery, it wasn’t worth straining his already broken ribs.

As he began his stumble into the woods, the moon was his only guide through the dense thicket of trees. Each step he took was deliberate, as he knew all too well the pain that could come from stepping on a twig too hard. The wind whispered through the leaves above, creating a symphony that was the only company he had left in the world.

Kyle's heart thudded in his chest as he heard the unmistakable sound of rustling branches behind him. He didn't dare to look back, fearing what he might see. The path grew narrower as the trees leaned in closer, their skeletal arms seeming to reach out for him. His breathing grew shallow, trying to remain unheard by whatever was stalking him. The twigs snapped rhythmically, the sound of pursuit growing louder.

With a jolt of adrenaline, Kyle broke into a run, his sneakers sinking into the damp earth beneath the leafy canopy. The rustling grew closer, turning into a chorus of snapping twigs and crunching leaves. The moon cast eerie shadows that danced alongside him, playing tricks on his eyes as he dashed through the trees. He could feel the presence of something, or someone, on his tail, and the fear of the unknown spurred him on.

The ground grew uneven, a hidden root catching his foot mid-stride. He felt himself tumbling through the air, time slowing down as he reached out to brace for impact. His body collided with the ground, and a sharp pain ripped through his side. The wind was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for air amidst the deafening silence of the woods.

The rustling grew closer, the footsteps now unmistakably human. Panic set in as he tried to scramble to his feet, his body protesting with each movement. Kyle's eyes searched the darkness, but the moon had played a cruel trick, hiding behind a cloud as if to leave him in solitude with his pursuer. His vision swam, and his breathing was labored as he pushed himself upright, using the rough bark of a tree to steady himself.

Alongside the bruises and the cuts he now had a danaged ankle and an indescribable pain in his side, through the moonlight he could see his sweater, once gray now stained with deep red blood. He took a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the tree for support, listening intently to the silence that had once again descended upon the woods. The footsteps had stopped, and the only sounds that remained were his own gasps and the distant hoot of an owl.

But the silence was shattered when he felt a hand, cold and unyielding, clamp down over his mouth, the other snaking around his waist, jerking him back. He had been so focused on escaping he had failed to hear the soft footfall of his attacker. A scream tried to force its way out, but was muffled by the calloused hand. Kyle’s eyes grew wide with terror as he stared into the darkness, unable to make out the face of his assailant. He felt a sharp prick in his neck, a sudden intrusion of pain, and then a warmth spreading through his body, turning his muscles to jelly. His legs buckled, and his vision swam with a kaleidoscope of colors.

“Shhh shhh…calm down…it’s all gonna be okay” The attacker murmured into his ear, the sweetness of their voice a stark contrast to the vice-like grip that was crushing him. Kyle’s eyes watered with the effort to escape, his body desperately trying to fight back against the strange, drugged heaviness that was enveloping him.

His vision began to blur but he refused to succumb, as his attacker began to drag him backward he hooked his leg around theirs and tripped them up, using the energy he barley had in him to push himself forwards and pitifully crawl away. Despite his efforts it was too late, he could barley move another inch before his body stopped responding, leaving him paralysed and on the brink of consciousness.

“Please don’t make this harder for yourself, Kyle” The voice sighed, a hint of pity in his tone.

“We just want to help you, and you just want to push and scramble away” He couldn’t tell if it was the dizziness, but he could’ve sworn that was a second voice.

As the darkness fully took hold, Kyle felt himself being lifted off the ground, the cold earth replaced with a warm embrace that smelled faintly of stage makeup and sea water. In his last moments of consciousness, he could feel his attacker huff.

“It’ll be all okay soon Kyle…”

• Months earlier •

“God everything hurts” JJ’s pained groan sent a vibration through his chest, gently waking up the younger brunette that laid ontop of his body. He instantly felt a ring of pain shoot through his head, causing an agitating pulsing within his brain.

JJ’s gaze softened as he heard Kyle let out a pained whine, his arms instantly hooking around his and pulling him further up his body. “Awww sorry I didn’t mean to wake you Kylie~” He cooed as he guided Kyle’s head to rest in the crook of his neck.

As he pressed his face against the soft skin of his boyfriend’s neck he felt a hand belonging to someone else grace his scalp. “We told you not to drink too much” The long nails tangling in his curls and the warm motherly tone – it must’ve been Sissal.

Kyle hummed groggily, the room spinning around him. “ ‘m ‘wanted to have fun” He whispered against the pulse he could feel beneath the skin.

“Yeah, but not at the cost of your health, baby boy~” Sissal chuckled, her grip tightening on his hair in a way that was almost comforting.

Kyle looked up at JJ with bleary eyes, the room still spinning. “You guys are so overprotective, it’s sweet but you know, a bit smothering.” He laughed, the sound forced and hollow even to his own ears.

Sissal’s hand stopped moving, and she pulled away slightly. “We just care, Kyle.” There was a hint of something else in her voice, something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. But the warmth of JJ’s embrace was too comforting, and he didn’t have the energy to question it.

“And you kept runnin’ away from us” Another voice from across the room with a thick Australian accent and well spoken English, Go-Jo was also there.

“What are you guys talking about? I don’t remember this…” He mumbled, his voice slurred slightly.

“You don’t remember after party?” Go-Jo spoke up, a devilish grin playing on his lips, “You had a bit too much fun and decided to run off by yourself again, didn’t ya?”

The memories were faint, barley there, but he remembers the party, he remembers there being contestants from the previous years that he wanted to talk to but every time he did he was stopped by one of his current years contestants. He remembers wanting to talk to Nemo but never reaching them, Kolë picking him up and Beatrice telling him not to go about getting lost and ‘ending up in the hands of the wrong people’ whatever that meant.

To think about it, he hadn’t seen any of his fellow contestants mingle with the contestants of the previous year, it made him wonder if they didn’t like eachother which was weird, he certainly liked Nemo.

“I think I went off to go speak to Nemo…” He trailed off as he felt JJ’s arms around him tighen.

“Nemo?” Go-Jo spat out the name, “What do you want with them?”

Kyle felt a shiver run down his spine, the way Go-Jo said Nemo’s name was almost venomous. He didn’t remember any bad blood between the two, but maybe they had history that he wasn’t aware of. “They just seemed nice, I liked their performance last year.” He shrugged it off, trying to ignore the sudden tension in the room and the way his friends seemed to shuffle a bit closer.

Sissal’s eyes narrowed slightly. “They’re just not our kind of people, Kyle. They’re...different. It’s better if you just stay with us, you know? We’re family now, after all this time together.” Her voice was soothing, almost hypnotic, but there was an undercurrent of something else that he couldn’t figure out.

JJ nodded in agreement as he sat up on the bed and cupped Kyle’s cheeks, his eyes never leaving the brunette’s face. “Yeah, we’re your real friends, baby. We’re the ones that understand you, that care about you. Why bother with them?”

“What did they say to you anyway…?” Go-Jo asked, his voice had a little bit of a demand in it.

“We didn’t talk…I remember Kolë picking me up and bringing me back to you guys” Kyle answered honestly, he could understand them needing his presence elsewhere but did they really need to pick him up and carry him around like a baby?

“Well, that’s good. You know how dangerous it can be out there with…last year’s contestants.” Go-Jo said, his tone had a hint of relief.

The three of them looked at each other, something unspoken passing between them, but Kyle was too foggy to understand. He felt a sudden weariness wash over him, his eyes growing heavy.

"You should get some sleep, baby," JJ murmured, his voice thick with a mix of concern and something else. Kyle nodded, his head dropping back down to JJ's chest. He was vaguely aware of being tucked in, of the softness of the pillows and the warmth of the blankets.

The last thing he heard was Sissal whispering, "Good night, Kyle," before he succumbed to the darkness.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Kyle awoke to the soft light of dawn seeping through the curtains. He was nestled in JJ's arms, the older man's grip around him unyielding even in sleep. He tried to move, to slip out of the suffocating hold, but JJ's arms tightened instinctively, as if afraid Kyle would vanish if he let go.

With a quiet sigh, Kyle took a deep breath, his head aching from the hangover. He gently began to inch away, his movements slow and deliberate so as not to wake the sleeping giant. It was a delicate dance, one he had unfortunately become quite adept at performing around his parents. Finally, he managed to free himself, he slithered out of the bed and onto the plush hotel carpet.

As he stood up he looked down at the sleeping figures of his friends, he wondered how they’d react if they knew, about home, about his life outside of Eurovision. But the fear of losing their friendship kept his mouth shut. He knew they’d want to help, they’d want to protect him, but he couldn’t risk it. Not when his parents had made it clear what would happen if he told anyone.

He stepped lightly over to the door, and slowly turned the handle. The door creaked open and he slipped through the gap like a ghost escaping its tomb. The hallway outside was empty, the only sound being the distant hum of hotel activity. He took a deep breath and stepped into the cool embrace of the hallway, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him.

He shuffled down the corridor, his mind feeling blank except for one thought, was it just him or were his friends becoming a lot more…friendlier? The gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder made him jump, spinning around to face the intrusion.

“Woah- Sorry didn’t mean to scare you Kyle” Ukraine’s Danyil held both his hands up in a surrender, his smile was as bright as the disco lights from last night but his eyes held a glint of something unnerving, it was the same glint that JJ and Go-Jo had in their eyes. “What are you doing up so early?”

Kyle looked down at his feet, the plush hotel carpet was cold on his bare soles. “Just heading to my room to pack up my things” He said with a polite smile.

Danyil’s eyes searched his own, something unreadable flickered in them for a moment. “Without JJ?”

Kyle tilted his head a little. “Yeah without JJ…why would I need JJ with me?”

Danyil's smile never wavered, but his eyes grew more intense, almost hungry. “Well I just don’t want you to be alone, Kyle. Let me help you pack up your things”

Kyle felt his stomach drop. Something was definitely off with everyone today. But he nodded anyway, they were probably just upset that Eurovision is now over. “Sure, that’d be great, thanks Danyil.”

They walked together down the hallway, their footsteps echoing through the quiet corridor. Kyle's thoughts raced. What had changed? Why were his friends acting so strange? And what had they meant by 'different' when referring to the previous year's contestants?

When they reached Kyle's room, Danyil's grip on his shoulder grew firm. "You know, Kyle," he began, his voice low and velvety, "we all really care about you here."

Kyle nodded, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, the room looking untouched from when he had left it earlier that night. His suitcase lay open on the bed, a mess of clothing spilling out.

As he made his way over to the bed, his eyes fell on the desk. There, amidst the scattered papers and hotel room stationery, was a single sheet of paper. It was folded neatly in half, with his name scribbled on the front in a familiar handwriting. Nemo.

Before he could even reach out for it Danyil plucked it from its resting place, Kyle watched as he opened it, his eyes scan the note and then crumple it in his fist, discarding it into the bin. "Just silly little fan mail." He said in a tone that didn’t allow for argument.

The rest of the morning was spent with Danyil hovering over him like a hawk, his eyes never leaving Kyle's face as he folded up the boys clothes neatly as opposed to Kyle’s tactics of just stuffing them in his suitcase in crumpled piles.

“You know Kyle, I noticed something last night, something that’s been kind of on my mind today.” He spoke casually, as if he wasn’t watching him like he was a child that was about to touch a hot stove.

Kyle paused, his hands hovering over his suitcase, he tilted his head as he looked up at him. “What’s that?” He asked.

Danyil stepped closer, his smile fading into something more serious. “You looked really sad when Kolë didn’t let you see Nemo. Like you really needed something from them, something we couldn’t give you. But you’re wrong, Kyle. We can give you everything you need. You don’t need to go looking for it elsewhere.”

Kyle froze, now he was really confused. Where was this coming from? He didn’t need anything from Nemo, he just wanted to have a conversation with them and apparently nobody else wanted that. “I- I didn’t need something from them I just wanted to have a conversation”

Danyil leaned down so that their eyes were level, his smile had turned into a smirk. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?” His grip on Kyle’s shoulder tightened and he stepped closer, the heat from his presence was almost overwhelming.

Kyle swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “No, of course not. I just want to make sure I don’t miss my flight. I need to go home to my family, you know?”

Danyil’s smirk grew, his eyes searching Kyle’s as his head shook a little. “Of course. Of course you do” Kyle didn’t miss the way his eye twitched.

He managed to pack the rest of his things with Danyil’s constant presence, the weight of his gaze like a boulder on his shoulders. Every movement felt calculated, every word spoken measured. It wasn’t until he zipped up his suitcase that the silence broke.

“Well then, I’ll leave you to your final checks, Kyle.” Danyil’s grip on his shoulder loosened, but the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver.

Kyle nodded, his heart racing. As soon as Danyil was out of the room, he lunged for the bin, his hand closing around the crumpled note. He smoothed it out, his eyes scanning the hastily scribbled words. It was an apology from Nemo, explaining they were sorry for not being able to talk at the party and that they wanted to meet up with him before he left Basel. It was innocent, just like Nemo had been that night. So why the hostility? He slipped the note into his pocket, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should.

After a few minutes, he managed to calm his racing thoughts and finish packing. He took one last look around the room, the emptiness echoing the feeling in his chest. He had made so many memories here, both good and bad. But it was time to go home, to face the reality that awaited him. With a deep sigh, he picked up his suitcase and stepped out into the hallway.

Nemo said they could meet inside the stadium. Kyle's heart thudded in his chest as he stepped out into the cool morning air, the weight of his secret like a boulder in his stomach. The sun had barely crested the horizon, casting a soft glow over the quiet streets of Basel. He glanced around nervously, expecting his friends to jump out at any moment, but the only people he saw were early morning joggers and a stray cat prowling through the bushes.

As he approached the stadium, the grandeur of the place seemed almost eerie in the silence. The lights were dim, the bustle of the previous night's festivities a distant memory. He slipped in through a side door, his heart racing as he navigated the maze of corridors. The echo of his footsteps was the only sound in the deserted backstage area.

“Kyle!” Nemo’s voice echoed behind him in the corridor, he turned around to see them jogging up to him. He was relieved to see there was no strange or unnerving look in their eye like there had been in Danyil’s, only the same honest kindness he remembered from their brief encounters.

They pulled him into a tight hug, their body was warm and solid against his. “I’m so sorry about not being able to talk last night, I would’ve tried to find you by the end of the night but I too got dragged away”

Kyle hugged back, feeling the tightness in his chest ease slightly. “It’s okay” As he was hugging them he smelt the scent of blood on them, when the two finally pulled back he noticed a patch on the back of their neck that was covered by a bandage. “Hey what happened there?”

Nemo's smile faltered for a moment before returning full force, “It’s nothing. I’ll tell you about it another time” They waved it off as if it were a papercut, but something about their tone made Kyle’s gut clench. “But what’s important is we’re here now and we can talk, I know you’ve got to leave soon right?”

Kyle nodded, his eyes darting around the corridor. “Yeah, my flight leaves late at night though so I have enough time to talk”

Nemo nodded and motioned for the two of them to walk and talk, whilst they seemed normal they did seem to have this aura of caution around them.

“Kyle…” They began. “Have you noticed your friends being…weird around you? Or just being weird in general?”

Kyle nodded, his throat tight with the question that had been plaguing him. “Yeah, I have. What’s going on with them?”

Nemo let out a huge sigh of relief, the hand they had placed on his shoulder squeezing him gently. “I…I don’t really have an answer to that. But I have theories”

Kyle tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “…you’re talking as if you’ve got the same problem”

Nemo winced, their eyes dropping to the floor. "Kyle, there's something I need to tell you-”

But before they could continue, Kyle felt a sudden rough tug on the back of his shirt and the next thing he knew he was being thrown onto the floor. He looked up to see a tall figure standing infront of Nemo, staring down at him with a hostility that could only be compared to a wild animal.

Kyle would have thought that Silvester Belt had returned to Lithuania by now but yet here he was staring down at him as if he just killed his whole family.

"What do you think you're doing?" Silvester's voice was cold, a stark contrast to Nemo's warmth, and Kyle felt the heat drain from his cheeks. Nemo looked over at him with wide, apologetic eyes, but Silvester didn't move. He was a wall of intimidation, blocking Kyle's escape and any hope of understanding.

"I was just talking to a friend," Kyle stuttered, his eyes darting between the two. He stayed still on the ground, his survival instincts from home kicking in.

Silvester's eyes narrowed. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You should leave."

Kyle's heart pounded in his chest. He knew he should get up, get away from this confrontation, but his legs wouldn't move. He looked to Nemo for help, but they just stood there, looking torn. "What's going on?" he whispered.

"Just go, Kyle" Nemo replied, their voice a mere breath of air.

Kyle felt his heart sink as he pushed himself up off the ground, his knees cracking against the cold cement. He didn't dare to look Silvester in the eye as he stumbled backward, the fear in his gut growing with each step. He didn't understand why Nemo’s friend was acting this way, but he knew better than to argue with someone that could potentially be dangerous.

He turned to leave, his eyes never leaving Nemo’s sad gaze, until the moment he was out of sight. He didn’t know what to think, his mind was racing with questions and confusion. As he walked away from the stadium, the crumpled note in his pocket felt like it was burning a hole through his skin.

But whatever was causing all his friends to act weird around him, may be the same thing that Nemo is suffering with too.

Chapter Text

Kyle arrived at the airport later that day, the atmosphere was thick with a mix of excitement and sadness as contestants from various countries said their goodbyes. He searched the crowded terminal for JJ and the others, spotting them by the terminal’s. They were all huddled together, their expressions a mix of concern and something else, something he couldn't quite place.

As he approached, they turned as one, their eyes locking onto him like homing missiles. JJ broke from the group first, his long strides eating up the distance between them. He pulled Kyle into a tight embrace, holding him so close that Kyle could feel his heart racing.

"You okay, baby?" JJ's voice was low and filled with genuine concern.

Kyle nodded into his chest, his heart racing from the encounter with Silvester. "Yeah, just a little tired." He mumbled, his voice muffled by JJ's shirt. “Had a weird day”

“Oh?” JJ pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Kyle’s own. “What happened?”

Kyle suddenly felt all eyes on him as the rest of the group closed in, each one of them looking at him with a blend of worry and something that unsettled him deeply. “I had like a strange encounter with the people from last year’s competition”

Sissal’s grip on his arm that he hadn’t noticed was there grew firmer. “What kind of encounter, Kyle? Did they say anything to you?” her tone was sharp, almost accusatory.

Kyle took a step back, feeling the weight of their stares. “N-no, not really. They just seemed upset that I talked to Nemo for a bit this morning.” He didn’t mention the note or the way Silvester had thrown him to the ground.

Go-Jo’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, placing a protective hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “You know we don’t like it when you spend time with them, Kyle. They’re not good for you. You should stick with us.” His voice was gentle, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.

“Well luckily he won’t be seeing them again, will he.” JJ jumped in, his voice light but with an underlying edge. “Eurovision is over and we won’t be running into that lot anymore”

The others murmured in agreement, but Kyle felt his stomach clench. Why were they acting like this? He knew they had their cliques and their drama but this felt personal. “What’s your guys’s issue with them anyway? And what’s their issue with us?”

The group exchanged glances, a silent conversation happening in their eyes that made Kyle feel like he was missing something crucial. Go-Jo spoke up, his smile forced. “They’re just jealous, skippy. They know how much we all love and support each other. They don’t have that bond.”

Kyle nodded, but the uneasy feeling remained. He couldn’t shake the image of Nemo’s sad eyes and Silvester’s hostility from his mind. He was about to ask more when the loudspeaker announced the boarding of his flight. The group tensed up, their grips on him tightening.

“You better go now, baby. We don’t want you to miss your flight, do we?” JJ’s voice was filled with something that didn’t quite sound like care. Kyle nodded, swallowing his questions for now. He had to get home, had to deal with what was waiting for him there.

“Kyle!” A voice shouted from afar, it was Hálfdán from Iceland. He jogged over to the group with a soft grin on his face. “Our planes boarding, are you ready to go?”

Kyle let out a chuckle as he raised an eyebrow. “You’re on my flight? I thought you’d get a direct plane to iceland”

“Yeah that was the plan but our flights got cancelled, but it works out for us through! We can make sure you get home in one piece.” Hálfdán said with a wink, clapping Kyle on the back.

Kyle nodded, his mind racing with the implications of the man’s words. Were they all going to keep an eye on him, like a flock of overprotective birds? The thought was both comforting and suffocating. He knew they cared for him, but the intensity was stifling.

With one last round of hugs and whispered promises to keep in touch, Kyle broke away from the group. The feeling of their eyes on him didn’t dissipate until he was through security and boarding the plane. As the aircraft took off, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong.

The flight home was long and tiresome, his thoughts racing with the events of the past few months. The glitz and glamour of Eurovision, the escape from his abusive home, and now this strange possessiveness from his friends and boyfriend.

He could still feel that energy coming off of the two Icelandic brothers sitting next to him on the plane, their eyes never straying too far from him. It was comforting, sure, but it was also a stark reminder of the bubble he was in. They talked to him, but it was as if they were afraid to let him out of their sight. Even Matti, who was usually so boisterous and full of life, was quieter than normal, his glances at Kyle more furtive than before.

As the plane descended into the Norwegian skyline, Kyle couldn't help but feel a knot forming in his stomach. He was going home to the same hell he had escaped. His parents didn’t know where he had been, they had no way of knowing unless someone had told them. But what if they had found out? What if they were waiting at the airport to drag him back home?

The plane touched down with a gentle thud and the passengers began to collect their belongings. Kyle’s heart was racing as he tried to put on a brave face, trying not to let his anxiety show. He didn’t know if he was more scared of what was waiting for him at home or the weirdness that had settled over his friends from Eurovision. Actually to be fair he could live with the weirdness, his house was a lot more scarier.

Matti nudged him with an elbow, his expression a mix of excitement and something Kyle couldn’t quite read. "Come on, let’s get going.”

They made their way through the airport, the hustle and bustle of people around them doing nothing to ease Kyle's growing dread. When they reached the baggage claim, Kyle's hands were shaking as he grabbed his suitcase from the conveyor belt.

He hadn’t told his parents about the competition or his friends. He hadn’t even told them he was coming home. He had essentially removed himself from his abusive environment for three months, and now he needed to reintroduce himself to it, and that is pretty fucked up in itself.

There had been times where he had considered telling his friends about home, about the bruises hidden beneath his clothes, but fear had always held him back. The fear of losing them, of their judgment, of their pity, of his parents finding out and making things worse. But now, as they walked out into the crowded airport, he found himself wishing he had. Maybe they could have helped him somehow, as strange as they may be acting now he’d rather live in their reality where he gets treated like some forbidden fruit than live in the reality he currently lives in.

As they stepped outside into the crisp, cold Oslo air, Kyle's heart was in his throat. He scanned the sea of faces for any sign of his parents, his stomach turning at the thought of their cold, hard stares. But amidst the chaos, there was no one waiting for him, no one he recognized. He let out a sigh of relief, but the fear didn’t dissipate entirely, he’d still be seeing them one way or another.

"Let us take you home, Kyle," Hálfdán offered, his voice firm and unyielding. "If I remember correctly…grandpa rodrick left his car in a parking lot near the airport, we can use that to drive you around”

Kyle felt his chest tighten, his grip on the handle of his suitcase growing slick with sweat. "Thanks, guys, but I think I'll just grab a cab. I don't want to trouble you." He tried to keep his voice light, but the tremor in his voice gave him away.

"Nonsense," Halfdan said, his smile never wavering. "It's no trouble at all. We insist." The firmness in his voice was like a steel gate slamming shut. There was no room for argument, and Kyle knew better than to push.

Matti nodded in agreement. “Yes! We said we’d get you home all nice and safe, and that is what we will do”

Kyle's heart sank. He didn’t want them to know where he lived, didn’t want them to see the house he had escaped from. But he had no choice.

The drive through Oslo was tense, the silence in the car only broken by the occasional forced laughter or small talk. The brothers kept looking at him through the rearview mirror, their expressions a mix of concern and something else that Kyle couldn’t quite pinpoint. He felt like he was being studied, analyzed.

When they finally pulled up to his house, Kyle’s stomach twisted into a painful knot. The house looked the same as he had left it, the peeling paint and the broken shutters a stark contrast to the pristine neighborhood around it.

“Home sweet home, right Kyle?” Matti’s voice was eerily cheerful, breaking the heavy silence in the car.

Kyle nodded, his throat dry. “Yeah, thanks for the ride, guys. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem at all!” Halfdan said, his smile never faltering as he pulled the car up to the curb.

Kyle’s hand was shaking as he reached for the door handle, his heart racing as he took in the sight of his house. The windows were dark, but he knew what waited for him inside. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, his legs feeling like jelly. He turned back to his friends, forcing a smile. “Thank you, really. For everything. I’ll be fine from here.”

Halfdan’s smile was tight as he nodded. “We know you will. But remember, you’re not alone, Kyle.”

“We will be watching over you like guardian angels” Matti added. “In spirit, that is.”

“Anyway we’ll see you again soon Alessandro! Very very soon” Before Kyle could question it the two of them drove away, leaving him in the dust.

Kyle watched the car pull away, the taillights growing smaller and smaller until they were out of sight. He kept on staring into the darkness where they once were, as if they were going to come back, but he knew they wouldn’t, and that was okay.

Now it was time to face the music.

Chapter Text

JJ paced around his room, it had been two days, two days since Kyle had contacted him. The silence was driving him crazy. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, his eyes were sunken and bloodshot. How could he do this to him? His own boyfriend left ignored? He had been so good to him, had been so loving, had been so protective.

Maybe he wasn’t protective enough, maybe he needed to take further measures to keep Kyle safe. JJ’s thoughts grew darker with every passing moment. He picked up his phone for the hundredth time, his thumb hovering over Kyle's name in his contact list. What if he called again, and there was still no answer? Would that be it? Would that be the final straw?

Jasmine watched from the corridor as her brother decended into this strange madness that had been haunting him since he returned from Eurovision. She had noticed it before, but the past few days had been extreme, his obsession with Kyle bordering on unhealthy. The way he talked about him, it was like he had become a different person.

JJ had always been protective but this was a new level of crazy she had never seen before. Everytime the phone vibrated in his hand, his eyes would light up with hope, only to fall into despair when he saw it was not the call he was waiting for. She could see it, the way his heart was breaking piece by piece, the way his mind was slowly slipping away into a dark place.

JJ’s room was a mess, clothes thrown everywhere, empty food containers on his bedside table, but his desk was spotless, almost eerily so. On it laid a map of Norway with a red X marked on the spot where Kyle’s town was located. She had watched him study it every night, his eyes tracing the lines of the streets, the proximity of the airport, the nearest shopping centers, trying to pinpoint where he lived.

He looked up as she knocked lightly on the door frame, his gaze snapping to hers. "What?" he snapped, his tone harsher than he had intended.

"JJ, you need to eat something," Jasmine said softly, holding a plate of food. She stepped into the room, the scent of her cooking filling the air. "You can't go on like this."

JJ barely glanced at the plate, his eyes never leaving the map. "I'm fine," he mumbled, his voice distant and preoccupied.

Jasmine sighed, setting the plate down on the floor next to him. "You're not fine, JJ. You're not eating, you're not sleeping. You're scaring us”

JJ looked up at her, his eyes tired. He suddenly reached out and yanked her down into a hug, it wasn’t comforting, it was tight and forced. “I didn’t mean to scare you”

Jasmine pulled away and looked into her brother’s eyes, her expression one of pure concern. "What's going on with you and Kyle? Why are you so obsessed?"

JJ let out a shaky breath, his eyes flicking to the map and back to her, he shook his head idly. "I- I don’t know what’s happening to me," he rasped, his grip on the phone tightening.

Jasmine took his hand, her eyes searching his. "You're not okay, JJ. You need to talk to someone about this. Maybe even go back to therapy."

JJ's grip on her hand tightened. "No," he said firmly. "I can handle it."

“I. Just- need. Him.”

•

It had been two days and Kyle had finally managed to stop vomiting up blood, he had at least two broken ribs if he had to guess but other than that it could’ve been worse. He hadn’t missed the amount his phone had been buzzing with notifications, mostly from JJ, but also from Go-Jo, Sissal and most of the other contestants.

He had been avoiding them all, he couldn’t face them, he feared that this possesivness had gotten worse, it was only going to get worse if they found out about the state he was currently in.

But the silence was deafening, and he missed the sound of their voices, even if they were a little too clingy, a little too obsessive.

He took his phone out of his pocket, the screen was cracked from when it had been thrown against the wall. He turned it on, his heart racing as he saw the plethora of missed calls and messages from his friends, his boyfriend.

He knew he had to tell them something, anything. So, he picked the least intense of them all, Go-Jo. He typed out a message with trembling thumbs, trying to sound casual. "Hey buddy. Will catch up soon x" He hit send before he could change his mind, and immediately felt a sense of dread wash over him.

The phone vibrated in his hand almost immediately, Go-Jo’s name lighting up the screen. His heart pounded as he picked it up, his voice shaking as he answered the call. "H-Hey Go-Jo, how are you?"

"Kyle! Thank God!" Go-Jo's voice was thick with relief, but there was an edge to it that Kyle couldn't ignore. "Where have you been? We've all been worried sick about you! You haven’t texted us in two days!”

Kyle winced, the pain in his ribs flaring up with every breath he took. "I just needed some time to, uh, get over the jetlag." It was a lame excuse, and Go-Jo didn't buy it for a second.

"You're hurt, aren't you?" Go-Jo's tone was sharp, accusatory. "What happened, Kyle? Did you run into last years contestants?"

How the fuck did he already know that? Kyle’s mind raced as he tried to come up with a lie, his heart pounding in his chest. "N-no, I'm fine, really. Just a little under the weather," he lied, his voice strained.

"Bullshit," Go-Jo said, his voice low and dangerous. "We know you're not okay. We're coming to get you right now. Tell us your address"

Kyle's heart raced, his hand hovering over the end call button. "No, I-I don't need you guys to come over, I'm fine."

"We're not asking," Go-Jo said firmly. "You're coming with us."

Kyle's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He hadn't seen his friends' behavior escalate to this point, and the sudden demand sent a chill down his spine. "no. I’m not going with you.”

There was a pause on the line, the silence thick and tense. "Kyle, you're not making this easy for us," Go-Jo said, his voice tight with frustration. "We just want to make sure you're safe."

But Kyle could hear the underlying threat in his words, and it made his blood run cold. He had seen the way they had treated the previous year's contestants, and he didn't want to be the target of their obsession. He knew he had to get away from them.

"I'm sorry.” He hung up the line and immediately turned his phone off, his hand trembling. He knew he couldn’t go back to them, not like this, not when they were all acting like this.

He looked around his room, the same room he had grown up in, the room that held so many painful memories. He was gonna be here a long while.

•

“If you don’t want to comply with our set of rules then you can just go sleep outside tonight!”

•

“Shhh shhh…calm down…it’s all gonna be okay”

•

“Please don’t make this harder for yourself, Kyle”

•

“We just want to help you, and you just want to push and scramble away”

•

“It’ll be all okay soon Kyle…”

Chapter Text

• Present Day •

The car radio blasted out the hyped up tune that is the song ‘Lighter’ by none other than Kyle Alessandro himself, Hálfdán and Matti sung along to the tune that had been engraved into their playlist since the competition months ago, they still knew every lyric from heart.

“Hey brother, I’m getting pretty hungry. Don’t you think we should stop and eat?” Hálfdán suggested, tapping his fingers to the rhythm of Kyle's hit song on the steering wheel.

Matti nodded from the back seat, his eyes never leaving the rearview mirror. “Yeah, it’s been hours since we’ve had anything.”

“Let’s stop at McDonalds. It’s on the way and there is a small path into a solitary forest we can go to” Hálfdán suggested, already typing the location into the satnav.

After a short drive the brothers made it to the McDonalds, the neon lights shining brightly against the dark sky. They pulled into the empty drive-thru, the gravel crunching beneath the tyres.

"Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?" The voice from the speaker was muffled but the message was clear.

"Two Big Macs, one with extra cheese, two large fries, and three apple pies," Matti called out, his voice echoing in the quiet car.

“And a happy meal for the little one” Hálfdán added with a grin.

Matti rolled his eyes but grinned nonetheless. The car pulled up to the window, and the attendant handed over the bag of food with a warm smile. “You two get home safe” she said cheerfully, oblivious to the lack of any mentioned ‘little one’ in the car, just two twin brothers.

Halfdan took the bag, the smell of grease and salt filling the car. They turned onto the road that led into the forest, the headlights piercing through the thick foliage. The forest was eerily quiet, the occasional hoot of an owl breaking the stillness.

"Here we are," Halfdan announced as they reached a small clearing, parking the car in the shadows. They stepped out into the crisp night air, the gravel crackling beneath their feet.

Matti took the happy meal box and headed over to the trunk, inside Kyle laid tied up and gagged, bandages over his injuries that were definitely not the best but they got the job done at the very least. Kyle had since woken up and upon seeing his two kidnappers lead him to begin letting out muffled screams.

"Hello little Kyle, we’ve got you a happy meal." Halfdan cooed, stroking Kyle's hair with a gentle hand. Kyle's eyes were wide with fear as he tried to struggle, the ropes around his wrists and ankles cutting into his skin. The gag in his mouth muffled his cries for help.

Matti approached the trunk, a sadistic smile playing on his lips. He opened the box and took out a burger, holding it up to Kyle's face. "Look what we have here, your favorite, remember?" He whispered.

“We’re going to take the gag off now Kyle, but if you scream, we’ll just have to put it back on, okay?” Halfdan spoke calmly as he began to untie the knot around the fabric in Kyle’s mouth. The fabric was damp with the brunette’s saliva.

Kyle nodded frantically, his eyes watering with hope. The gag was removed and he gasped in the cool night air, his throat feeling raw. “Please, let me go! What do you want from me?! Why are you doing this?!” His voice was shaky and desperate.

Halfdan's smile never wavered as he held the burger closer. "Now now, Kyle. No need to be like that. We're just your bestest friends, looking out for you."

Matti leaned in, his voice low and sinister. "You know how much we care, don't you?" He paused, watching Kyle's eyes dart back and forth in panic. "You dropped us without a word. After everything we've shared?"

Kyle's heart raced, his eyes pleading. "I'm sorry, I just needed space! Please, I won't tell anyone, just let me go!"

Ignoring his pleas, Hálfdán took a bite of his Big Mac whilst Matti shoved the cheeseburger closer to Kyle’s mouth. “Just eat the burger Kyle”

The smell of fast food was overwhelming, it made Kyle’s stomach churn but his fear of the unknown was greater. He took a cautious bite, the cheese sticking to the roof of his mouth. His eyes never left his captors as he chewed.

"Good boy," Matti said, his voice sickly sweet. He took a step back, watching as Kyle continued to eat, his hands still tied behind his back.

Halfdan opened the fries box and offered one to Kyle. "You've always had a taste for these, right?" He said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Kyle nodded again, his voice muffled by the burger. He took a deep breath and forced himself to swallow, the grease coating his throat. He took another bite, trying not to retch. The brothers watched him with a strange mix of satisfaction and something else, something darker.

After a couple more minutes of force feeding the boy, they deemed him sufficiently fed. Hálfdán took away the half-eaten burger from his mouth and replaced it with the gag. Kyle's eyes widened in horror as the fabric was shoved back into his mouth, cutting off his cries for help. He felt a sharp prick in his neck and the world began to spin.

"It's okay, Kyle," Matti whispered as the sedative took hold, "You're just going to take a little nap."

The world grew fuzzy around the edges as the drugs kicked in. Kyle felt his body go limp, his eyelids growing heavy. He couldn't fight them anymore.

•

Darkness pulsed behind Kyle’s eyelids as he slowly regained consciousness. His head throbbed with the tempo of a bass drum, and his body felt like it had been run over by a semi-truck. The scent of antiseptic and stale air filled his nostrils, bringing with it the unwelcome reality that he was not in his own room.

There’s a sharp wet burning sensation in his side, his first instinct is to curl away from the pain, but the second he shifts, metal bites into his neck anf wrists with a loud ‘clink!’ A cold chain yanks against the bedpost which causes his eyes to snap open.

The ceiling above is pained a soft pastel blue, like a child’s bedroom. Light filters through the gauzy white curtains that sway in the breeze. For a moment, there’s a surreal calm. Then the pain comes surging up and panic punches the air from his lungs.

“What–”

His hands are bound. Thick leather cuffs locked to heavy chains, stretching his arms slightly above his head. He’s lying on a plush, oversized mattress that’s laid in the corner of the room and decorated by plush comforters and pillows that are suffocatingly soft, too clean, with silk sheets that don’t match the terror coiling in his chest.

Then he heard them.

“Careful, he’s waking up”

“Kyle…?” A voice he knows too well. Sweet, too sweet. Jakob. “Stay still. You’re hurt.”

A shadow looms at his side. A hand brushes sweaty hair from his forehead. Kyle flinches. His vision swims, but there’s Jakob, kneeling by the bed, his eyes wide with frantic concern. His hands hover inches from Kyle’s face like he wants to touch, needs to, but something holds him back.

“Kyle, breathe. It’s okay. You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”

Safe.

No, no, no, no, no–

Kyle tugs instinctively, but the chains rattle sharply. A spike of agony slices through his waist. He gasps, twisting, and that’s when he feels it, the tight bandage wrapped around him, pressed over the burning gash at his side. The fabric sticks wetly to his skin.

“Stop moving!” Another voice snaps, this one harsher, sharper. Axel.

Axel storms forward, practically shoving Jakob aside. “You’re gonna tear it open again.” He grabs Kyle’s chin, fingers clamping down tight. “Look at you. Why are you always making things harder?”

“Don’t touch him like that,” Jakob snaps, grabbing Axel’s arm to shove him back.

“Oh, like you know what you’re doing.” Axel snaps back.

“Both of you shut up.”

This voice is lower. Firmer. Icy calm in a way that’s infinitely worse.

Kevin steps forward from the corner. He’s been standing there the whole time, arms crossed, eyes sharp and calculating like he’s studying a particularly difficult puzzle. His gaze flickers over Kyle’s trembling frame, his pale face, the sweat clinging to his skin. But when his eyes fall to the blood seeping through the bandage, something shifts.

His entire expression softens, but in a way that’s wrong. His lips curl into something gentle, but his eyes burn possessively.

“You poor thing,” Kevin murmurs, stepping closer. He crouches by the bed, reaching out, fingers ghosting over Kyle’s wrist, tracing the chain like it’s jewelry.

Kyle’s breath comes in short, shallow gasps. His voice is dry when he finally chokes out, “W-What is this…? Let me go. What- what’s happening-”

Kevin hummed in response. “You’re home now, Kyle. Where you’re safe.”

“I-” Kyle tries to twist away, but the stabbing in his waist pins him in place. A sound bubbles in his throat, a weak, helpless noise that only makes Kevin’s grip tighten.

“You’re okay. You’re with us now,” Kevin says soothingly. His hand slides from the chain to Kyle’s cheek, stroking it gently, his thumb brushing over Kyle’s trembling bottom lip.

He then stands, turning sharply to Axel. “Go get the disinfectant. And more gauze. The bandage is bleeding through.”

Axel nods, his eyes never leaving Kyle’s. “I will be cleaning the wound.” There’s no argument in his tone. Jakob sits down tentatively beside Kyle, his hand locating itself to the brunette’s curls.

Kevin doesn’t argue. Instead, his gaze sharpens slightly, tilting his head like he’s weighing something heavier. “And… while you’re at it…” His voice drops a fraction lower, not threatening, not overt, just deliberately slow. “Go tell JJ, he’s awake.”

The air shifts. For a split second, even Jakob’s hand falters where it’s carding through Kyle’s hair.

Axel’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s something different beneath it now, like someone quietly clocking that a storm is about to roll in. He lets out a hum, tapping two fingers lazily against his leg. “Right… figured it wouldn’t take long.” He flicks his gaze toward Kyle, eyes glittering with something unreadable. “He’s gonna be… thrilled.”

Without waiting for more, Axel turns on his heel and saunters toward the door, hands slipping back into his pockets. His voice trails after him, still light, almost sing-song. “Bandages, disinfectant…psychotic boyfriend. Sure.”

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving only the soft rustle of the curtains and the heavy thud of Kyle’s heart.

Kevin turns back to face Kyle, the softness in his eyes morphing into something more predatory. “You remember JJ, don’t you?” His smile is thin, polite. Chilling. “He… doesn’t take abandonment very well.”

Kyle’s heart hammers in his chest, the mention of JJ’s name bringing a fresh wave of dread. He tries to form words, to protest, but his mouth is dry and his tongue feels like it’s been super glued to the roof of his mouth.

Jakob hums under his breath, leaning in closer, resting his chin lightly against Kyle’s shoulder. “Yeah… you really shouldn’t have disappeared on him. On any of us.” He sighs, like someone pitying a child who just doesn’t understand the rules. “But especially not him.”

In the distance… something shifts. The muffled sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate starts to draw closer. Each one heavier than the last. A quiet, suffocating realization sinks in.

Kyle now needed to face whatever monster his ex-boyfriend had become.

Chapter Text

Axel left the bandages and supplies on the bedside table, his eyes lingering on Kyle's bound form before he motioned something to Jakob and Kevin, all three of them exited the room. The door clicked shut with a finality that sent a shiver down Kyle's spine.

Silence swallows the room.

For a second, just a second, Kyle almost lets himself believe that maybe… maybe they’ve left for good. Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe-

A soft creak. Floorboards shifting under weight.

Kyle shifts, testing the restraints again. Metal rattles, sharp against his ears. The collar bites at his throat whenever he moves wrong, sending a fresh wave of panic through him. His side throbs where the bandage barely holds back the sting of the gash. His breathing is shaky and shallow.

What the fuck has happened to his friends? This isn’t the Eurovision family he knew. This isn’t the love and support he’d felt on stage. This isn’t the camaraderie and friendship that had gotten him through the toughest of days. Something had to have happened to them. Something that he suspects Nemo knows about.

Another creak.

They were footsteps. Slow and deliberate.

The handle turns. Not rushed. Not angry. Just inevitable. The door eases open and there he stood. The very man that Kyle had blocked months ago, JJ.

The air shifts, gets heavier, tighter, like the oxygen itself recoils.

The same as always. Too sharp. Too still. Black button up with the sleeves rolled up with precision, dark boots polished to a mirror sheen. But there’s something worse now. Something about the way he stands. He steps in, closing the door behind him with a soft, intentional click.

Kyle’s breath stutters. He knows he shouldn’t. This was his boyfriend standing before him. But the sudden awareness of being utterly, completely alone with him settles like a weight on his chest.

JJ’s eyes rake over him. Not fast. Not hurried. It’s slow, invasive. The kind of look that doesn’t just see you, it measures you. Catalogues every fracture, every weakness. His gaze lingers on the collar. The chain. The poorly bandaged wound at Kyle’s waist.

The silence stretches.

Kyle shifts, wincing as the metal collar tugs against his neck. He presses a trembling hand over the blood-seeping bandage. His breath stutters, but he holds JJ’s gaze, or tries to. “JJ- what’s going on?” He rasps.

No response. JJ moves. A booted foot steps forward, heavy enough that the floor creaks under the weight. Then another step. Closer. Closer until Kyle can feel the faint shift of air as he approaches.

JJ’s eyes flick downward. To the length of slack chain trailing from the collar to the floor.

“JJ- please, just tell me what’s happening here. Why am I chained up like this? Why are you staring at me like that?” Kyle’s voice cracks with the effort of speaking through the fear, but he holds onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, there’s still a piece of the person he knew in there. Someone who cares. Someone who won’t hurt him–

CLANK.

The chain snaps taut as JJ stomps down on it. The sudden pull yanks Kyle’s collar violently tight, dragging him forward, head snapped downward until his cheek slams against the toe of JJ’s boot.

“Down.”

The word is cold. Flat. No anger, just command.

JJ presses his boot, not crushing, but pinning. Like restraining something unruly. His gaze stays level. Calm and unflinching.

He exhales. A slow, disappointed sigh.

“Look at you.” His voice is cold, but there’s an edge of pity. Twisted, patronizing pity. “Ran back to them. The same ones that break you over and over, thought you could cut me off?”

The chain rattles as Kyle struggles for air, fingers clawing weakly at the metal. JJ doesn’t ease up — not even slightly.

“And now?” JJ’s gaze drags down Kyle’s trembling form, the bandage, the bruises, the raw skin around the collar. “Now look at what you’ve done to yourself. You’ve gotten yourself hurt”

Kyle’s eyes water, his throat burning. “I didn’t mean to-”

The moment the words slipped from Kyle’s mouth JJ’s lips curled. Not quite a smile. Something tighter. Sharper. His boot doesn’t lift. If anything, the pressure increases, not to hurt, but to hold Kyle exactly where he is.

JJ lowers himself, crouching slowly, gracefully. His fingertips dragging up the chain until his hand closes under Kyle’s chin, fingers pressing in just hard enough to make Kyle feel how easily he could squeeze.

“No?” His voice drops to a razor-edged growl. “You didn’t mean to?”

He let out a soft cold chuckle, it was humourless, almost pitying.

“Of course you didn’t.” His thumb brushes the underside of Kyle’s trembling jaw. Gentle but mocking. “You don’t know how to mean anything. You don’t think. You just… panic. Run. Hurt yourself.”

“Like a scared little stray.”

JJ finally lifts his boot. The sudden slack in the chain sends Kyle collapsing sideways, coughing, clutching at his neck, gasping like a fish pulled from water.

But JJ wasn’t done with him.

His hand snakes out, grabs the chain near the collar, and yanks it tight, dragging Kyle forward until his face is nearly pressed against JJ’s knees.

Fingers slip beneath his chin not harsh, but firm, insistent and commanding.

“Up.” JJ’s thumb tilts Kyle’s face upward. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

Kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breath shuddering. JJ’s grip tightens until it forces them open.

“You came back anyway, didn’t you? Whether you meant to or not.”

A pause. Longer. Thicker. His gaze narrows colder.

“That’s the thing about dogs like you, Kyle.” His thumb presses against Kyle’s lip, not tender but possessive. “You don’t get to decide who you belong to. That’s my job.”

Kyle’s breath stutters. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in around him. JJ’s hand slides around the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their eyes lock, until Kyle’s nose is practically touching the fabric of JJ’s pants.

“Dogs don’t get to choose freedom, Kyle. They get collars. Leashes. And owners who decide for them.” A sharp pull on the chain makes Kyle jolt forward until JJ’s thigh brushes his cheek. “And you? You get me.”

The words hit him like a slap. A cold, brutal reminder of what he’s become in their eyes. A pet. A possession. Not a person.

JJ lets the chain slacken just enough. His hand threads through Kyle’s hair, tugging, not cruel now, but guiding, as he tilts Kyle’s head back to look at him fully. His voice lowers, still sharp at the edges but threaded with something darker…something warmer.

“Easy now. Come on… back. Lie down. Let me look at you.” The command is soft now, almost coaxing, but it leaves no room for disobedience.

Kyle hesitates, his breath hitching but his body moves before his mind catches up, crawling backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress.

JJ’s hand is immediately there, fingers curling around the chain at Kyle’s neck, using it to gently force him down, guiding him like something domesticated. JJ follows, kneeling beside him, one knee slipping between Kyle’s legs, not trapping, but close. Close enough to remind Kyle of exactly how little space there is between obedience and punishment.

“Good… good boy.” It slips out low, almost murmured, but intentional. Warm in tone, but laced with possession so thick it suffocates. “Stay still. Let me see how badly you’ve wrecked yourself”

JJ’s hand smooths over the collar, then down the side of Kyle’s neck to the bandage. His eyes darken as he takes in the blood seeping through the gauze. “Look at this mess they made of you.” His fingertips ghost over the poorly taped gauze, a featherlight touch paired with a sharp tut of disapproval. “Those twins are useless, if they had actually had a single braincell in their hollow heads then I would’ve had you months ago. But they just had to forget your address…”

JJ’s palm spreads over Kyle’s side possessively, warm against trembling skin. He peels the bandage away with slow, deliberate care, fingers grazing skin far more than necessary. “Of course, they dont know how to handle something as delicate as you”

“…but I do, I always have.”

The gauze peels away, sticky and half-soaked through. JJ’s fingers trail lower as he works, thumb stroking the dip of Kyle’s waist, too slow, too deliberate to be accidental.

“You poor thing…” His thumb presses just shy of Kyle’s hip bone, firm but tender. “Let’s clean you up, shall we?”

JJ’s fingers trace the angry edges of the wound, cool and featherlight. his thumb drags slowly along the brunette’s tender skin.

Kyle’s eyes squeeze shut, his breath hitches. JJ’s touch feels like ice, but somehow, it’s not cold. It’s a warmth that makes him shiver, a gentle reminder of his own vulnerability.

Reaching for a clean cloth and disinfectant, JJ’s touch turns meticulously gentle, far gentler than the others had been, but the closeness is suffocating. His thigh presses against Kyle’s, one arm sliding under Kyle’s back to tilt him just slightly toward him, cradling him like a prized item that needs repairing.

“Stay still.” His voice drops lower, not a warning now, but a soothing command, the way someone might hush an anxious animal. His palm flattens against Kyle’s stomach, fingers splayed wide, possessive in their hold as he begins cleaning the wound.

The sting of alcohol bites into Kyle’s skin. His breath jolts as he lets out a pained hiss, and JJ hums low, soothing, almost sweet. “Aww… does it sting, baby?” His palm cups Kyle’s jaw, thumb stroking the corner of his mouth. “Shhh. Good boy. Breathe. You’re doing so good for me now…”

He finishes wrapping the bandage, tight, snug, too snug, intentionally toeing the line between medical care and restraint. His hands linger as he ties the knot, fingertips stroking the small sliver of bare skin exposed at Kyle’s waist.

“See how much better it feels when you let me take care of you?” JJ’s voice is a velvet caress, his eyes gleaming as they meet Kyle’s.

Kyle’s chest tightens, the words echoing through his head. He tries to pull away, but the chain is a merciless reminder of his lack of control. His voice cracks as he whispers, “What do you want from me?”

JJ’s lips curl, slow and deliberate, like someone savoring the struggle of a caught animal. His thumb ghosts over the line of Kyle’s throat, then down to the collar resting snug around it.

“What do I want?” JJ echoes, voice dipping lower. “Oh, sweetheart. You still don’t get it.”

Kyle’s fingers twitch weakly against the sheets, breath stuttering. “I… I didn’t ask for this…”

JJ’s hand stills on the knot of the bandage. “Ask for it?” He laughs, the sound cold and brittle. “You didn’t ask for what? The love, the attention, the protection?” His eyes glint. “You didn’t ask to be found?”

The room seems to shrink around them. Kyle’s voice is barely a whisper. “I didn’t ask to be taken. To be a prisoner.”

JJ’s expression shifts again, the coldness retreating, replaced with something almost affectionate. “Oh, but you did, Kyle. You begged for it.” His thumb brushes over the collar again, a gentle, almost loving gesture. “You just didn’t know the words to say it. You never do.”

Kyle’s breath catches in his throat. Panic swells up in him like a tornado, desperate to break free. “JJ, please. This isn’t right. I’m- I’m sorry I cut you off- I had to- my family–”

The chain rattles as JJ suddenly yanks him forwards, catching his jaw in his hand. They were close, close enough that the air between them feels suffocating. His thumb brushes possessively along Kyle’s jaw, tipping his chin up until there’s nowhere left for Kyle to look but straight into him.

His breathing was heavy and ragged, eyes wide with fear as JJ leaned in closer, his nose brushing Kyle’s cheek. The words came out in a whisper that seemed to vibrate through Kyle’s very bones. “Family? I’ll teach you what family is” His hand moved down as he tapped the collar on Kyle’s neck.

“And it starts with this. Right. Here”

Chapter Text

JJ’s chest rose and fell against Kyle’s back, each breath a low rumble that vibrated through the mattress. His arm was slung possessively across the brunette’s waist, fingers curled into the soft flesh just above his hip. His thigh pressed firmly against Kyle’s, anchoring him in place as though Kyle were a prize no one else could touch.

The moonlight filtered through the curtains, pooling silver on JJ’s bare shoulder where it met the collar of Kyle’s T-shirt. JJ’s fingers traced idle patterns up and down Kyle’s side, feather-light, but with an unmistakable claim. The chain around Kyle’s neck clinked softly with each shift, a faint reminder of the bars they’d never shown.

In his sleep, JJ’s breath grew warm, his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of Kyle’s neck. The sensation sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine. It was a gesture that was once loving, a playful nibble that signaled affection in the early days of their relationship. Now, it was a silent declaration of ownership, a subtle threat of what might happen if he tried to leave again.

JJ murmured something indistinct, half-asleep, then relaxed again, his head resting heavier on Kyle’s shoulder. The nip had been soft, almost ritual, but it tightened the cage around Kyle’s mind with its cruelty.

Beneath the weight of the Austrian’s arm and thigh, Kyle’s fingers trembled as they inched toward JJ’s pocket. He could feel the keys inside, metal cool against his skin, waiting. Each touch risked waking JJ, but he had no choice.

With painstaking slowness, Kyle eased his hand into the pocket. JJ shifted, tightening his hold, but didn’t stir beyond a faint grunt. Kyle’s fingers found the keyring, curved around it, and slipped the keys free.

The chain clinked again, louder this time, and Kyle held his breath. But JJ’s grip didn’t change, his breathing remained deep and even. Carefully, Kyle slid the keys along the chain until they reached the lock at his throat.

He didn’t dare exhale until the entire collar lay loosening around him.

JJ snuffled, a half-formed sigh of contentment, as if pleased that Kyle was still there. Then his grip slackened just a fraction.

Kyle slipped out, ghost-quiet, every movement measured. He hoisted himself to his knees, pressing his back to the headboard, careful not to dislodge JJ’s arm completely, just enough that he wouldn’t wake fully.

Shaking, Kyle eased out from under JJ’s thigh. A soft crinkle of sheets, and JJ twitched, a toe flexing, but did not awaken.

Kyle rose on unsteady legs, heart pounding so loudly he feared it would betray him. He padded toward the door, each step as silent as his hope.

He slipped barefoot into the hallway, tension coiled so tight it screamed under his skin. The corridors were dimly lit and opulent, gold-accented wallpaper, velvet runners underfoot, too grand for the madness it contained. He didn’t recognize this place what so ever, but he knew he needed to get out.

He took one hallway. Then another. Freedom whispered in the distance like a ghost. You might make it.

Until, a hand slammed against the wall just ahead of him. Kyle skidded to a halt, heart plummeting.

He recognised that silhouette, strong toned biceps, fluffy hair that stuck out in all sorts of directions, a frame that was a lot more taller than him.

“Evenin’ Skippy”

Kyle staggered back a step. “Go-Jo— don’t. Please— I was just— I wasn’t—”

Go-Jo stood there, blocking the hallway like a wall of muscle in a loose white tanktop. His eyes dragged slowly over Kyle, bare feet, wild hair, collar still red against his throat.

The Australian tilted his head, disappointed. “Dunno what hurts more. That you thought you could sneak out…” He began walking forward.
“…or that you thought I wouldn’t be the one to catch you.”

Kyle turned, bolting down the hall, but he was too slow.

A crushing arm locked around his middle mid-sprint, dragging him clean off his feet.

“Gotcha”

Kyle kicked, twisted, bit, even, but Go-Jo only laughed, the sound a gravelly, affectionate chuckle against Kyle’s ear.

“You’re real squirmy tonight, huh? Almost makes me proud.” He hoisted Kyle higher, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “But we talked about this. You don’t run. Not from me.”

Kyle’s fists pounded against his back. “Let me go!”

Go-Jo’s palm came down hard on his ass, not quite playful, not quite punishing. “What’d I say? You don’t make this ugly.”

He carried him back through the twisting corridors with terrifying ease, fingers gripping Kyle’s thigh like handles. Kyle could feel Go-Jo’s breath on his skin, steady and calm in contrast to his own wild panic.

“You even got the collar off, huh?” Go-Jo mused. “JJ’s gonna be livid. Or maybe…” He smirked. “Maybe he’ll thank me for bringin’ his little stray dog home.”

Kyle stilled, the words sinking into his gut like ice.

As they neared the familiar hallway, his hallway, Kyle let out a broken sound. Go-Jo’s grip shifted, firmer.

“Shh. It’s alright. You got your little freedom walk. That’s more than most get. And now…” He patted Kyle’s side like one would a pet.

“Now it’s time to put the leash back on. And in the morning, you and I are scheduled for a long overdue chat, in light of how our…last interaction went.”

•

The soft morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the room. Kyle sat nestled against Go-Jo’s broad chest, the warmth of the large man steady and unyielding behind him.

He felt dizzy, maybe it was all the fear and surprise, or maybe it was the lack of sleep, but Kyle knew he had to get away from here. He had to get to Nemo, get to the bottom of what was happening here before it was too late.

But right now he was trapped. Metaphorically and physically.

A small bowl rested in Go-Jo’s hand, a spoon dipping into it with deliberate care.

“Open up,” Go-Jo murmured, voice low but commanding, yet it still kept its cheerful edge.

Kyle’s lips parted reluctantly, and the spoon pressed gently against his tongue. The food was bland, but the act itself, Go-Jo feeding him, felt like a reminder.

“Aussie hospitality, eh Skippy?” Go-Jo said, a ghost of a smirk in his tone. “Can’t let you run off hungry.”

Kyle forced down the spoonful, his throat tight. “Where’s JJ?” His voice was small, defeated.

Go-Jo’s eyes flicked to the side, his smile not quite reaching them. “Oh, he’s busy. Not really happy with your stunt last night.”

The spoon hovered over the bowl, the smell of the oatmeal suddenly nauseating. Kyle swallowed thickly. “What are you guys doing to me?”

Go-Jo’s expression softened, his grip around him tightening in a way that wasn’t quite a comfort. “Just takin’ care of ya, mate. You left us. We missed ya. Now you’re home.”

The word 'home' stuck in Kyle’s throat, a lie wrapped in the sweetest of promises. “You knew this was coming, the second ya hung up that phone…ya knew you were always gonna end up right here”

Go-Jo’s words were a punch to the gut. He knew. They all knew. And they had been waiting, biding their time, until they could take him back into their twisted reality.

The spoon pressed to his mouth again, but Kyle turned his face away, his eyes burning with unshed tears. Go-Jo’s smile faltered, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. Concern, maybe, or frustration.

“Look, I know this is weird for ya, but you gotta understand. You’re ours, Kyle. We need you here.” The words were a soft growl, almost tender. “You’re our golden boy. Our star. Without you, we’re nothing but forgotten faces in a sea of glitter and lights.”

Kyle stared at the spoonful of oatmeal, his mind racing. They were all crazy, that much was clear. But why? Why did they need him so badly? The spoon hovered closer.

"Why?" Kyle choked out, desperation lacing his voice. "What did you do to me? What is happening? Why are you all acting like this? Something has to be wrong”

He turned around in Go-Jo’s lap. “Please- you would tell me, you never acted like this before”

Go-Jo’s expression grew serious, the playfulness draining away. He set the bowl aside and took Kyle’s face in his calloused hands. “You’re special, Skippy. We all knew it from the moment you were announced for Norway. You had something none of us had. Magic, ya know?” His thumb brushed away a stray tear. “But it’s a tough world out there, and you needed us to keep you safe. So we made sure you’d never leave us again. We had to protect you from that world. And from yourself.”

Kyle’s eyes searched Go-Jo’s, looking for the friend he once knew, the one who had made him laugh and feel like he belonged. But all he saw was a man lost to obsession. “What did you do to me?” he whispered, voice trembling.

Go-Jo leaned in, his breath warm against Kyle’s cheek. “You’re the one who does this to us. It’s all apart of the spell”

Kyle’s eyes widened with horror. “Spell?” He repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

Go-Jo stared, then shook his head. He picked up the bowl that still had more food in it. "Eat." He said firmly.

Kyle's eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of escape or hope. The spoon hovered over his mouth and he realized that he didn't have much of a choice. He took the bite, tasting the lie in every mouthful. The oatmeal was sticky and lukewarm, a poor excuse for sustenance.

As Go-Jo continued to feed him, Kyle's thoughts raced. A spell? Was this all some kind of twisted, sick game they were playing? He had to find out more. But it gave him hope, a thread of an explanation that made him feel less crazy.

Chapter Text

• One and a half years earlier •

The hotel room smelled faintly of hairspray and perfume, a cloud of nerves and glitter before the afterparty. Nemo sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, humming quietly to themself, tugging at the sleeves of their glittered jacket while Marina leaned over them, steady fingers adjusting the collar.

“Hold still,” The Greek woman murmured, voice low, melodic. She reached out without asking, smoothing an invisible crease from Nemo’s shoulder, fingers lingering just long enough to make it clear she wasn’t in any rush to pull away. “You’ll steal the whole room tonight,”

Nemo laughed, a bright, easy sound. “Oh, please. Everyone’s going to be looking at you.”

Marina only smiled, tilting Nemo’s chin with two fingers so they’d look at her reflection in the mirror opposite to them on the wall. “Not if I’m looking at you.”

Bambie sat by the dresser, eyeliner in hand, watching them with a tilt of their head. It wasn’t unusual for contestants to grow closer during Eurovision, it was practically tradition, but Marina’s touches seemed… new. A little too comfortable. A little too certain.

“You two have gotten… close,” they said lightly, tone more teasing than accusing. Their voice carried a lilt of amusement, as though it were nothing more than an idle observation.

Marina glanced at them through the mirror, lips curling into a subtle smile that never quite reached her eyes. “Of course. Nemo’s special. Anyone would want to be close.” Her thumb traced a line along Nemo’s cheekbone, feather-light. “Isn’t that right?”

Nemo just smiled, oblivious, swatting her hand away with playful affection. “You’re going to make me mess up my eyeliner.”

Bambie gave a small laugh, but their chest felt oddly tight. They’d thought Marina was the reserved type, serious, focused, polite. This softness was new. Or maybe not softness, exactly… something wrapped in silk that felt like a net.

Still, they didn’t say anything more. Marina’s gaze lingered a beat longer on Nemo before she finally stepped back, smoothing her own dress and adjusting the hem like nothing unusual had happened.

“You two almost done?” came a voice from the hallway. Olly, probably, his laughter spilling in even through the closed door.

Nemo hopped off the bed, eager as always. “Coming!” They grabbed their shoes, already glowing at the thought of the night ahead.

Marina followed close, hand ghosting the small of Nemo’s back as they guided them toward the door.

Bambie rose slowly, catching that fleeting gesture, the way Nemo didn’t even seem to notice. They slipped on their own shoes and followed, filing it away quietly in the back of their mind.

•

The hotel lobby gleamed under golden lights, polished marble floors reflecting sequins and satin as contestants drifted toward the afterparty. Laughter and chatter spilled out ahead of them, a rising tide of excitement.

Olly looped an arm through Nemo’s, tugging them forward with a grin. “Come on, superstar, don’t make us late! They’re already buzzing about you.”

Nemo laughed, stumbling a little in their shiny boots before spotting Silvester, who had been waiting near the doors with Marko. The Lithuanian opened his arms without hesitation, and Nemo slipped into the embrace like they belonged there, their cheek pressed to his chest.

“You made it,” Silvester murmured against their hair, a quiet warmth to his voice that softened the sharp line of his jaw. His hand lingered at Nemo’s waist as though it had always been meant to rest there.

The group began to head towards the after party, Nemo looping their arm around Silvester’s as the two lovers yapped away about whatever they talked about.

Behind them, Olly chattered brightly to Marina, laughter bubbling over like champagne. Bambie lingered on the edge of the group, tugging their jacket tighter around their shoulders. The night carried an odd heaviness, something just beneath the surface that pressed against their skin.

Marko fell into step beside them, hands in his pockets, tall and quiet compared to the others. His presence was grounding in a way, his silence almost comfortable.

“You feel that?” Bambie asked suddenly, their voice low.

Marko glanced down at them, one brow arched. “Feel what?”

Bambie hesitated, searching for words. “Like the air’s… thicker than it should be. Something about this whole week, it’s strange. Like there’s a pull. Not just nerves.”

Marko’s gaze lingered on Nemo, laughing up at Silvester as though nothing else in the world mattered. His jaw tightened. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted at last. “Been feeling… something. Can’t explain it. Like the room goes quiet when they walk in. Like the rest of us stop thinking straight.”

Bambie looked at him sharply. They hadn’t expected agreement. “Exactly. That’s not normal.”

Marko shrugged, but his eyes were serious. “I don’t know much about… whatever it is you’re into,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “but I know I don’t like it. Makes me feel like I’m not myself.”

For a moment, Bambie felt a flicker of relief. Someone else could sense it. They weren’t alone.

“You think it’s dangerous?” they asked quietly.

Marko didn’t answer right away. His eyes followed Nemo again, then slid back to Bambie. “If it is… we’ll deal with it. Don’t worry.” His voice was steady, almost reassuring.

Ahead of them, Olly called out, “Oi, you two, quit hanging back! You’ll miss the fun!”

Bambie and Marko exchanged a glance before quickening their pace. The warmth of the group swallowed them again, laughter and glitter and touches that lasted just a little too long.

But Bambie couldn’t shake it. The air still felt heavy, humming with something unseen. And Marko’s words stayed with them: Like the rest of us stop thinking straight.

•

The afterparty was already alive when they arrived, bass shaking through the floorboards, lights cutting across the ceiling like fractured stars. Contestants and crew spilled from every corner, sequins catching the light, glasses clinking, voices raised in laughter and song.

Nemo was radiant, practically glowing as they stepped into the room. Silvester draped an arm easily over their shoulders, guiding them forward like it was the most natural thing in the world. Nemo didn’t resist, leaning into the taller man’s warmth with a grin, oblivious to the way his hold looked more like a claim than affection.

Marina lingered close on Nemo’s other side whilst Olly danced ahead, weaving between people, beckoning Nemo with exaggerated flourishes and playful whoops. Marko trailed just behind, watchful and quiet, like a shadow built from muscle and intent.

He’s tensed up, Bambie could tell. Their eyes darted around the room, taking in the threads of energy that hummed beneath the surface. Excitement, yes, but something else too. Something denser, like honey poured over everything, making the air heavier than it should be.

Nemo, of course, noticed none of it.

“C’mon, let’s get a drink!” Olly laughed, dragging Nemo toward the bar.

There was a figure at the bar that had caught Bambie’s attention, a shadow trying to drag attention to themself. He sat alone at the far end of the bar, shoulders hunched, hair falling into his eyes. The drink in his hand looked untouched, condensation dripping down the glass onto his fingers.

His eyes were sharp, though dulled around the edges, like someone who hadn’t slept right in months. And they weren’t on the crowd. They were on Nemo Bambie’s brows pinched. Something in that gaze wasn’t like the others.

Nemo, ever friendly, caught sight of him too. Their face lit up in recognition. “Bojan!”

Silvester’s arm twitched, tightening fractionally, but Nemo was already slipping free and weaving through the crowd toward the man.

Bambie followed a step slower, instincts prickling.

Bojan didn’t smile when Nemo reached him. He didn’t even stand. His gaze flicked once more to Silvester, who had turned, watching from a distance with thinly veiled irritation, before dropping back to Nemo.

Nemo beamed once they reached him, leaning against the bar next to him. “I loved your performance last year.”

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “That was me.”

Nemo perched on the edge of the chair across from him, oblivious to the tension in his jaw. “It was amazing. You were amazing. Everything feels so surreal, doesn’t it?” They laughed, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind their ear.

Bojan stared at them for a beat too long before he spoke again, voice low. “Right. You should enjoy it whilst you can”

Nemo blinked. “What do you mean?”

Bojan’s fingers tightened around his glass, knuckles whitening. His eyes flicked once more to Silvester, then to Marina, Marko, and Olly hovering nearby. His voice dropped into something almost cold. “Because you’re not ready for them”

Nemo gave a small, awkward laugh, half thinking it was bitterness, half brushing it off. “Well… Eurovision makes everyone intense, right?”

Bojan didn’t answer. His silence was weightier than words.

Then, before Nemo could push further, Silvester was suddenly there, sliding neatly between them with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His hand found Nemo’s shoulder again, pulling them gently but firmly back.

“Everything alright here?” His voice was velvet over iron.

Marina appeared at Nemo’s other side, her hand brushing Nemo’s arm in a subtle reclaiming gesture. “Nemo, don’t waste your night with… this,” she said smoothly, her tone polite but dismissive, as though Bojan were little more than a bad memory.

Olly bounded up, grabbing Nemo’s free hand with a grin and dragging them onto the dance floor with ease. “Come on golden child they said they’re gonna play ABBA next!”

Nemo laughed, the tension breaking instantly for them. “Okay, okay!” They let themselves be tugged back into the crowd, swallowed again by lights and music and touches that felt, to them, like warmth.

Bojan stayed where he was, watching with something close to resignation. He muttered something, too low for Nemo to hear, but Bambie caught the shape of the words: You’ll see.

Bambie lingered a second longer, their chest tight, eyes catching Bojan’s. There was no plea in his gaze, no call for help. Only the hollow look of someone who had lived this before and was too broken to intervene.

Then Marko stepped into their line of sight, tall and solid, his expression unreadable. “You coming?” he asked, voice neutral but heavy.

Bambie’s eye twitched, feeling suffocated by the whole situation. “I think I’m going to step outside for a moment, for some fresh air”

Marko’s gaze faltered a moment, as if a tiny bit of concern was trying to weasel its way into his cold demeanour but that spark quickly was stomped out. “Okay. Don’t be too long”

Bambie nodded, tearing their gaze away from him and giving Bojan one last glance before heading for the door. But inside, their unease doubled.

Something was happening here. Something structured. And Bojan… Bojan might know something, he might be their first ever lead.

They stepped out into the cooler night air, the music and chatter muffled behind the heavy hotel doors. They took a slow breath, trying to shake off the pressure pressing down on them. Their eyes scanned the hotel courtyard, and that’s when they spotted him, a messy heap of platinum blonde hair, a white shirt with a bright blue tie that had this man looking like an office worker straight out of Tom & Jerry, and socks that clearly didn’t match his shoes, sneaking along the walls of the hotel like a cat burglar.

“Seriously?” Bambie muttered under their breath, eyebrows raising.

The figure froze, eyes wide as he crouched behind a potted plant. Then he waved frantically. “Heyyy nothing to see here”

The witch sighed dramatically yet their lips twitched into a half smile. “I know it’s you, Joost Klein”

“I am not Joost Klein, I am uh…just the grounds keeper- Joost Klein was never here” he said with a lopsided grin, hopping out from behind the plant and tripping slightly over the edge of a fountain before catching himself with exaggerated flair. “Don’t mind me, just…uh, checking out the scene. Totally not plotting anything. Nope. Not at all.”

Bambie blinked, trying to process him. “You’re… sneaking around the afterparty?”

“Yep! Totally normal, fully inconspicuous. You look like someone who understands subtlety,” Joost said, crouching down again as if ready to vanish at any moment. “Come here a moment…”

Bambie hesitated before shrugging and doing so, climbing up to the ledge he sat upon. Joost moved over to the window that peered into the party, he had been spying on them. “You see my disqualification does not leave me out from the after party, I can still be apart of the festivities in spirit”

Bambie rolled their eyes. “Right…”

“-but the important thing is, I can wander around and these crazies can’t touch me. Weird, right?” He continued, motioning to the contestants in the party.

Bambie tilted their head, curiosity piqued despite the odd interaction. “Disqualified…so you’re not acting weird”

“I never thought I would be the most normal one in this competition” Joost commented, looking offended by his own words. Bambie once again rolled their eyes.

Joost then pointed to where Bojan was sat at the bar, there was another man standing next to him, one which Bambie recognised. “Käärijä, we went way back, inseparable. But then he competed in 2023 and all of a sudden… ‘oh Bojan this’ and ‘oh I need to see Bojan, Bojan needs me’ Bojan this, Bojan that it just wouldn’t end”

Bambie listened closely, the gears in their head slowly beginning to turn and piece together the similarities between Joost’s story and what was happening now with Nemo and Silvester.

“I thought…maybe if I join the competition, then he’ll redirect his focus to me. But no, it only got worse. He began to hate me, oh and it was real unfiltered hatred, fuelled by nothing except ‘you stay away from my Bojan’. Part of me wanted to move on, I even began to think of…replacing him with Nemo of all people, but when I was disqualified that urge left me, and so did Käärijä’s hatred for me, sure it went back to ignoring me but the worst of it went away”

Bambie’s chest tightened, unease blooming into something sharper. “So… it’s not just Nemo?” they asked quietly, voice almost swallowed by the night.

“Exactly,” Joost said, leaning closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “It’s a pattern. Whoever gets caught in that… thing… becomes someone else’s possession. Not just attention, not just obsession, it’s like they’re being pulled into someone else’s orbit, and those from last year are not allowed anywhere near this orbit. It’s like they’re forming factions, each year of contestants having a hatred for the previous and the next”

Bambie’s eyes narrowed, the pieces clicking together in a cold, painful alignment. “And Bojan… he can’t warn Nemo? Or he won’t?”

Joost gave a wry shrug. “I don’t know, he might know something in regards to who gets chosen as the contestant to orbit, I’ve just been calling them ‘the victims’, but he looks exhausted with all the ‘affection’. Maybe he knows what’s coming but doesn’t have the strength to warn them”

Bambie exhaled slowly, letting the weight of the situation settle “Alright,” they said, determination flaring in their chest. “Then we make sure Nemo doesn’t end up the same way.”

“As a team!” Joost exclaimed, holding his hand out for the witch.

Bambie rolled their eyes and took his hand. “As a team.”

•

The hallway swayed just a little as Nemo fumbled with the keycard, giggling under their breath. “Why do hotels always make these things impossible?” they muttered, jabbing it too fast into the slot.

“Here, let me,” Silvester’s voice murmured close at their ear. His hand brushed theirs as he took the card, sliding it cleanly through. The door clicked open immediately.

Nemo laughed again, stumbling inside. “Show-off.”

Marina’s hand was suddenly at their elbow, steadying them. “Careful. You’ve had too much champagne.”

“I had just enough,” Nemo said with mock defiance, kicking off their shiny boots and nearly tripping over the rug. Marko, silent as always, reached out instinctively, catching their arm before they could fall.

Nemo grinned up at him. “See? Teamwork.”

Marko didn’t smile back. His hand lingered a moment too long before he let go.

The room smelled faintly of perfume and leftover glitter from rehearsal. Nemo collapsed onto the edge of the bed with a sigh, tugging at their jacket. Marina was beside them in an instant, sliding it off their shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You should rest,” she said softly, smoothing the collar of Nemo’s shirt. “You’ve had a long night.”

Silvester was already pulling the curtains shut, shutting out the city lights, his movements efficient but oddly possessive, like he was closing Nemo off from the world outside. “She’s right. Get some sleep.”

Nemo blinked at them both, laughter dimming into something uncertain. “You’re acting like I’m fragile or something. I’m fine, I promise.”

But when they tried to stand again, Marina’s hand pressed lightly to their chest, guiding them back down. “Stay,” she said, her smile too gentle, too deliberate.

Nemo chuckled nervously, leaning back on the pillows. “You two are ridiculous.” Their voice slurred with exhaustion and champagne, oblivious to the silent glances exchanged over their head, Marina’s cool, sharp gaze meeting Silvester’s steady one.

Marko stood by the door, arms crossed, watching. He didn’t intervene, but his presence was heavy, like a sentinel.

“Go to sleep,” Silvester repeated, softer now, his hand brushing Nemo’s hair back from their forehead. It should have felt tender, but something in the weight of his palm made it feel like a brand.

Nemo’s eyes fluttered, laughter fading into drowsy hums. They murmured, “You’re all too much,” before sleep finally pulled them under.

When their breathing evened out, the room was quiet.

Marina’s hand lingered against Nemo’s sleeve, her expression unreadable. Silvester stood over them, gaze fixed like a man admiring a prize. And Marko, still by the door, stared at Nemo as though guarding something that wasn’t his to guard.

None of them spoke, the silence between them was thick enough to choke on.

However, a couple rooms over there was no silence nor freakish obsession to be found. Joost sat cross-legged on the carpet, a half-empty minibar notebook in front of him and a pen clutched like it was Excalibur. Bambie sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded, their expression caught between exhaustion and grim determination.

“Okay,” Joost said, scribbling furiously. “Let’s list everything we know before I forget and start doodling ducks in the margins.”

Bambie rolled their eyes but leaned forward. “Fine. Start with the obvious.”

Joost licked the end of the pen for effect. “Number one: contestants from different years hate each other. Like… automatically. No context needed. Just boom! rivalry.” He wrote it down in capital letters.

“Number two,” Bambie added. “The contestants obsess over one specific person. Not just friendly, not just competitive, it’s like… orbiting a planet. They lose themselves in it.”

Joost nodded, scribbling so hard the paper almost tore. “Yes, obsession level: soap opera villain.”

“Number three,” Bambie continued, ignoring him, “the obsession grows over time. Stronger. Darker.”

“Number four,” Joost said, slapping the notebook dramatically. “The victims. Plural. Bojan last year. Nemo this year.”

The word victims hung in the air heavier than it should have.

Bambie exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as they tried to piece the threads together. “So the question is… why them? Why Bojan, why Nemo? What do they have in common?”

Joost tilted his head, frowning. “Both musical prodigies? Both… shiny little stars who everyone can’t stop staring at?”

“That’s everyone here,” Bambie said sharply. They leaned back, tapping their fingers against their arm. “It has to be more specific.”

Joost chewed on the pen cap, brows furrowing. “Well… Bojan wasn’t exactly in the best place last year. Everyone knows he… y’know. Drank too much. Kept beating himself up no matter how well he did. Low self-esteem, low guard. Easy pickings.”

Bambie’s lips thinned. “And Nemo…” They hesitated, then sighed. “Nemo’s so daft they haven’t even noticed half the room’s been clawing at them all week. They think it’s just… friendship. Or nerves. Or Eurovision magic. Completely blind to manipulation.”

Joost snapped his fingers. “So that’s it. Vulnerability. The spell doesn’t grab the brightest candle, it grabs the weakest flame.”

Bambie frowned, their stomach tightening. “Which means anyone could be next. All it takes is one crack.”

For the first time since the party, Joost looked genuinely unsettled, the humor drained from his face. “…And Nemo’s crack is that they don’t even see it happening.”

Silence settled heavy between them.

Bambie broke it, voice low but steady. “Then we make them see. Before it’s too late.”

•

The room was quiet, too quiet, save for the soft thrum of bass bleeding through the walls from the afterparty below. Bojan sat hunched on the edge of his bed, phone loose in his hand, thumb absently scrolling through the gallery.

Photo after photo from last year. Grinning selfies with Käärijä. Staged press shots with the rest of the class of 2023. Blurry backstage candids where he was smiling wide, but his eyes… they didn’t match.

The phone buzzed again. And again. Dozens of notifications stacked up in the corner of the screen. Messages, tags, mentions. Jere’s face popped up more than once, fans reposting clips, quotes, obsessively stitching them together with his own. Always poor old Bojan. Always him.

His jaw clenched. He didn’t even need to open them. He knew what they said.

His gaze drifted back to one of the old photos, one he’d screenshotted months ago. The results of the Norwegian national selection, Alessandra Mele crowned winner.

Bojan stared at it for a long time, chest heavy.

“Should’ve been him,” he muttered under his breath, the words ragged, bitter. With a frustrated swipe, he cleared the notifications, only for more to flood in immediately, buzzing like hornets. He dropped the phone on the duvet and buried his face in his hands, exhaling shakily.

His voice broke into a whisper. “I wouldn’t have been the fucking victim of this all…”

The phone buzzed again, lighting up with Käärijä’s name. The screen glowed in the dark room, insistent, demanding and hungry.

Bojan didn’t touch it. He just turned it face-down and let it ring.

•

The morning light cut sharp and pale through the curtains, stabbing across Bambie’s eyes. They groaned, pressing the heel of their hand against their temple. They rubbed at their eyes, already thinking about last night’s list, the jagged pieces of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. Their mind was too alive to rest.

The door creaked.

“Bambie?”

Nemo’s voice, soft but edged with something uncertain. Bambie’s head snapped up just in time to see them step into the room without knocking, still in the clothes from last night, hair mussed, eyeliner smudged faintly beneath their eyes.

“Nemo!” Bambie exclaimed, leaping up and moving toward them. “I have something I need to talk to you about-“

“You disappeared last night, I was worried that something hand happened to you and-“ Their gaze flicked across the room to Joost, sprawled half under the desk, mumbling something in his sleep about fish crackers. “What’s he doing here…?”

Bambie’s stomach sank. “He’s… helping. I just-he’s trying to make sense of everything that’s happening. Look- everyone around you is acting strange-“

Nemo’s brow furrowed. “Helping? By… hanging out in your room?” Their voice carried a mixture of discomfort and suspicion. They stepped further inside, eyes darting nervously between Bambie and the disheveled figure on the floor. “I wanted to ask you why you’ve been acting so distant, and now I find you with him. You’re… you’re the one acting strange.”

Bambie shook their head quickly. “No, Nemo, listen to me. That’s not it. It’s them- the people around you. Silvester, Marina, even Marko and Olly. Their behaviour- it’s… off. It’s obsessive, possessive, and it’s not normal. You’re being drawn in, whether you see it or not.”

“Possessive? Controlling? Manipulation?” Nemo crossed their arms, their expression sharp in a way Bambie rarely saw. “He got disqualified. For a reason. You don’t just get kicked out of Eurovision because you’re unlucky. Hanging around with him? That’s not you. That’s… dangerous.”

Bambie’s pulse quickened. “It’s not dangerous, Nemo. It’s answers. He knows things about what’s happening to you. About the… spell, or whatever it is.”

Nemo’s frown deepened, lips pressing into a thin line. “A spell? Bambie, listen to yourself.” They gestured toward Joost, who snorted and rolled over, hugging a pillow. “You sound like him. Conspiracies, paranoia. This isn’t you.”

“It is me,” Bambie snapped, then softened, desperate. “Nemo, can’t you see it? The way Silvester, Marina, even Olly, they’re all circling you like you’re not a person but a prize? That’s not normal. That’s not just attention. You have to trust me.”

Nemo recoiled at the sudden sharpness in Bambie’s voice, eyes widening. They stumbled back into the corridor, shoulders hunched, body shrinking as though trying to disappear.

“Bambie… I…” Nemo’s voice caught, uncertainty flickering across their face.

Bambie’s heart pounded, but they pressed on, following cautiously. “I’m not trying to scare you! I’m trying to help! You have to see what’s happening!”

Before they could reach Nemo, a heavy hand slammed against Bambie’s chest, shoving them backward with a harsh force. Marko loomed in the corridor, his tall frame rigid, eyes dark and unreadable.

Bambie stumbled, glaring up at him. “Marko, listen! I know we talked before! You felt it too, the pull, the… the energy surrounding Nemo! Something’s wrong! Don’t do this!”

Marko’s jaw tightened, a flicker of the man they trusted before gone. He took a step closer, closing the space between them. “Stay out of it,” he growled.

Bambie’s voice rose, desperate. “You’re not yourself! That pull- don’t let it take you! You agreed with me before, remember? You felt it, too!”

Marko’s eyes flicked to Nemo, who was frozen further down the corridor, panic mirrored in their wide eyes. Then his gaze returned to Bambie, hard and unyielding. Without warning, his hands shot up, fingers wrapping around Bambie’s throat.

Bambie gasped, clawing at his grip, chest tightening as air began to cut off. “Marko-!”

Suddenly, a crashing movement and a shout broke the tense standoff. Bambie was released from the Croatian’s iron grip and as they opened their eyes they spotted Joost wrestling Marko to the floor.

Bambie coughed, gasping for air, hand pressed to their throat. Nemo froze, eyes darting between the struggle and Bambie, fear sharpening in their expression.

Marko snarled, pulling at Joost, but the disqualified contestant held firm, his wild energy and unpredictability now their lifeline.

“Nemo!” The witch shouted, panic threading through their voice. The sight of them frozen, so close yet just out of reach, made their chest tighten unbearably.

But Nemo’s eyes were wide, not with recognition, but with confusion and fear. They were staring at Bambie, trembling, caught between trust and doubt. The sudden aggression had terrified them, and the sight of Joost, someone they barely knew but associated with chaos, only added to their unease.

“Okay time to leave!” Joost hissed, hopping off of Marko and forcing Bambie backward as the first hotel security personnel appeared around the corner, drawn by the commotion.

Bambie’s gaze snapped toward Nemo one last time, for a fleeting heartbeat, their gaze softened ever so slightly.

“We’ll come back for them!” Joost yelled over the chaos, voice cracking.

Nemo’s wide, terrified eyes were the last thing Bambie saw before Joost dragged them out of the corridor and out of sight from the security chasing them. Bambie stumbled, coughing, heart hammering as the sounds of security shouting, Marko’s furious growls were soon a faint memory.

They rounded a corner, gasping, and finally collapsed against the wall, chest heaving. Joost leaned against them, still bristling, scanning the hotel behind them.

“They’re gone,” Joost said flatly, voice tinged with frustration. “We lost them this time.”

Bambie’s hand dropped to their lap, trembling. “We… we’ll find a way back,” they whispered, eyes burning with determination. “We have to.”

Outside, the early morning air was cool and quiet compared to the chaos left behind. But the thought of Nemo, trapped, unaware, and under the spell’s influence, pressed down heavier than ever.

This was only the beginning.

•

The dust had settled, Nemo had no idea what in the world they had just witnessed happen, one of their own closest friends working with a disqualified contestant, making conspiracies. They didn’t want to believe it, yet a bad feeling settled in their chest.

Marko’s voice trailed behind them, low and urgent. “We need… get… out… of here,” he muttered, like a broken mantra, his words slurred with some strange mix of obsession and fear. Nemo didn’t respond, just kept moving, their mind spinning.

They wandered into Bambie’s room, there on the floor where Joost had once laid passed out was a notepad, one of which was a freebie offered by the hotel. It was ridden with scribbles talking about spells and Eurovision contestants.

Tentatively, they flipped it open. The pages were neat, precise, filled with notes and observations. Contestant names, odd behaviours, patterns, connections… stuff comparing them to Bojan from Joker Out. Nemo felt a flicker of unease in their chest.

Their eyes scanned quickly, lingering on a new page. The handwriting was hurried here, words underlined and circled. Lists of names, participants from the national finals who never made it to the competition. Then, a list of names written in bold.

2023: Bojan, Slovenia
2024: Nemo, Switzerland

2025: Kyle, Norway ???