pain, pleasure & eurovision ; Damiano David

DRIVE

Damiano and I fight about who gets to drive my VW bus. He doesn't like when I drive but I will never let him take advantage of my car.

Eventually, I sit down behind the steering wheel and lead the way to central Rome. The argument is over and we finally talk about the evening. Ethan's reaction to the win makes us laugh and we share the overwhelming feelings we experienced at that moment.

"Thomas cried like a baby." Damiano laughs.

"I mean, did he even want to win?" he continues the joke.

I chuckle too.

"Well, you couldn't keep it together either." I look sideward to see him already looking at me.

He pushes my head back to where I can see the road. I roll my eyes at that.

"You fucking won, dude." I exhale.

"We won. You were a huge part of it all."

"Nah, I just did the outfits."

"Y/n!" He shushes me.

"I never told you that, but you were the inspiration for the song."

"I was?" I look at him in confusion.

He moves my head back to where it was.

"Eyes on the road!"

"I inspired the song?"

"Yup, do you remember when you were really upset about your mum?"

"24/7 you mean?" I scoff.

"I know. But that one time ... it was probably like 3 am..."

..................

"Why Damiano? I already live in another city, another country but still, she follows me. Not only my mum but my dad too."

I storm into Damiano's room. I know he's still awake, I heard him play some soft tabs and hum.

His head shoots up to me who must look like somebody punched me in the face.

"Their voices, ring in my head and it makes me sick."

My eyes are bloodshot because of tiredness and crying. I plop down beside Damiano and lean to the side, throwing my face into a pillow.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Y/n, what's the matter?"

His voice sounds unusually soft and caring. I have his full attention, not like our usual chit-chats. This is the first time he sees me crying, I just couldn't take it alone this time.

"My parents. All my life they have told me what to do and what not, what was correct and what gained attention and made people talk." I confess.

"But you know what? Fuck what the neighbours say, they don't know shit." I lift my head and turn around, lying on my back now.

He lies down beside me, our arms and legs touching because the bed isn't too big. He doesn't know what to say because he probably doesn't understand what I mean.

"My parents really cared about good manners when I grew up. But do you wanna know what happens to kids with strict parents?"

He doesn't answer, knowing the question was rhetorical.

"Right! They are a fucking pain in the ass and do what they want. I never behaved especially when I was a teenager."

I laugh slightly, thinking about the parties and other gatherings I've attended, a few years ago.

"Well and the people talked about me, such bullshit came out of their mouths."

I feel my facial expression darken as I go on.