corruption

eight ੈ✩‧₊

Nina's pov:

It's been a few weeks since we moved into the new apartment, and I'm finally feeling settled in. The city doesn't feel overwhelming anymore, and the responsibilities of keeping this place together are starting to feel normal. I'm in the living room, scrolling through food videos on my phone while some chill music plays on the TV in the background. The sun streams in through the windows, and it feels like one of those lazy, perfect days where you don't have to do anything but exist.

I hear Lacie's bedroom door creak open, and I glance over just in time to see her stumbling out, yawning like she hasn't slept in years.

"Good morning, sugar," I say, smirking as she shuffles into the living room, her hair a mess.

She mumbles something in return, plopping down next to me on the couch, her own phone in hand. We do the usual small talk, going on about whatever random thoughts come to mind, phones in hand the entire time. It's the kind of easy routine we've fallen into—making food, eating, lounging around without any real plan. It's nice, though. Comfortable.

A long while later, it's the afternoon and we're still chilling. Lacie's scrolling breaks the calm when she suddenly bursts out, "Oh, my God, Nina, look at this."

I glance over at her phone screen as she holds it up. An Instagram video is playing, and I can just make out the words Eurovision 2021 Finals. I tilt my head, curious. "Isn't that the show you'd watch with your mum every year?"

A flood of warm memories hits me at once. I gasp, remembering the countless nights spent with my mum, popcorn in hand, glued to the TV for hours, watching Eurovision together. "Oh my fucking God, yes! When is it?!"

Lacie squints at the screen. "Uh... it says the finals are on the 22nd of May, I think?"

I freeze, grabbing my phone to check the date. My eyes widen in pure shock. "Oh my God, that's today!" Panic hits me like a freight train as I start frantically searching for the remote, nearly knocking everything over in the process. "Where's the remote? I might've missed it!"

Lacie watches me scrambling and, ever the calm one, asks, "Wait, what's Eurovision even about again?"

Between my frantic search through channels, I quickly explain, "It's this massive music competition between European countries—and a few others, like Australia, don't ask why. My mum and I used to watch it every year religiously. It's a big deal. I can't believe I forgot!"

Finally, I land on the right channel and groan. "Ugh, we missed most of it! The voting's about to start."

We settle in, and Lacie, already intrigued, asks, "So... which country do you want to win?"

"Serbia, obviously," I say, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

Lacie laughs. "I guess I'll root for UK," She smirks. "Or Australia, y'know, 'cause of 5SOS."

I roll my eyes, "they're not in the finals mate" i laugh. We're both already too invested as the votes start rolling in. Serbia ends up placing 15th, and I'm a little disappointed but not surprised. The snacks come out, and soon we're both munching away as the voting narrows down to the final two countries—Switzerland and Italy.

That's when it happens.

Switzerland's representative shows up first. Some guy. I don't even remember his name. His song was forgettable at best. Then Italy's representative appears, and it's a band. The second their faces flash onto the screen, my entire body goes rigid.

I know those faces.

What the actual hell. My brain short-circuits. "What. The. Fuck."

I don't say anything out loud at first—I can't. I'm staring, frozen, at the lead singer. It's Damiano. Damiano fucking David. The guy I had a major crush on, like, two or three years ago. The guy I hadn't thought about in ages.