Slavko x Francesco

Slavko couldn't stop looking at Francesco Gabbani.

It wasn't like he had a crush on him, that would be ridiculous, or even liked him in a friendly manner - it was just because watching him was interesting. That was it. The way he talked to people, the way he moved, and that smile when something caught his attention. Slavko didn't like him or anything.

He just couldn't stop looking at him.

Oh, gosh, that smile...

He saw Francesco glance in his direction, and he immediately looked down. What if he thought... No. He didn't care what Francesco thought. Because he was only watching him because he was interesting. He didn't care about him. 

If he did, he'd have to be happy for Francesco if he won Eurovision.

And he couldn't do that.

Who else would fulfill his dream of starting an army of singers with long hair and on-point make-up to overthrow the Montenegro government if he didn't win?

Exactly.

So he'd stuck with watching Francesco - discreetly, from a distance, mind you - and trying not to let a grin spread across his face. Slavko could feel his heart rate increasing and... was he blushing? He couldn't be blushing.

Besides, Francesco was probably 100 percent straight. There was no use in wishing for what you couldn't have.

And somebody as magic, as perfect as Francesco, somebody who's smile could brighten the worst of days, would never go for somebody like Slavko. He wasn't even being bitter, he was just being realistic. Everybody knew that was how things worked.

Everybody knew Slavko didn't deserve Francesco.

But he could look at him. It didn't do anybody harm. He wasn't delusional - he knew he couldn't have Francesco Gabbani. That was ridiculous. But he could look at him. He could admire his beauty, his magic as if it was the only thing he could do.

And without even thinking - well, he was thinking, but ninety percent of his thoughts revolved around Francesco's smile - he got out his notebook. The one that was supposed to be used for important things, but... well...

He flipped to a random blank page and wrote in his best handwriting:

FRANCESCO GABBANI.

He felt like a schoolgirl. This was ridiculous. He looked around the arena that would be holding the Eurovision finals (he'd barely made it past, and he suspected most of his votes were from Twitter fangirls), that was going to be filled with artists. Artists like him who'd dreamed of this longer than they could remember. Artists that might make that dream a reality.

It was easier here than anywhere else to admit it: he had a crush on Francesco Gabbani.

Feeling a little self-concious (was his handwriting good enough?) but significantly more lovestruck, he started drawing hearts around the name.

Francesco was magic.

And Slavko had a crush on him.

Maybe he even loved Francesco Gabbani.

"At least you've spelled my name right."

Slavko jumped. Shoot. Shootshootshoot. This was not how he was intending his day to go. Out of all the scenarios that could have happened, Francesco seeing his lovey-dovey doodles was not among the favourable ones.

"Umm, I'm sorry-"

Did Francesco just wink at him? He definitely saw him do it... but maybe that was just his lovesick imagination. 

He'd definitely smiled at him though - that smile, that magic smile that made Slavko's heart flutter and knees shaky - and all Slavko could manage was an awkward smile back.

He was still flushing. Because Francesco had seen his lovesick doodles about him.

This was bad. Shootshootshootshootshoot, how was he going to-

Francesco kissed him.

He kissed Slavko.

Francesco Gabbani kissed Slavko Kalezic.

He couldn't get over that fact. He was still flushing a bright red, although it had nothing to do with embarrassment.

Francesco was beautiful. So beautiful that he couldn't look away.

And he had a dancing ape with him on stage. Who wouldn't kiss a man who danced with an ape on stage?

A/N: Yah, Slavko's in the finals who. Come on, guys. You can't argue with that. Slavko was awesome. He would deserve to be in the finals (but not win - BECAUSE FRANCESCO DESERVED TO WIN).