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“Bojan Cvjetićanin? Kris Guštin? Melina will see you now.”
It wasn’t meant to happen like this.
Tensions between Bojan and Kris were at an all-time high after Eurovision, a combination of the ‘poor’ result, the utter exhaustion of the UK tour and the aftermath of the Gregor debacle. Bojan was barely functioning after all the performances, Kris was struggling to take over Gregor’s old roles and the rest of the band could sense that something wasn’t right with either of them.
After yet another rehearsal that ended prematurely with Kris and Bojan engaged in a screaming match over some minor detail, an intervention had to be staged.
“Group therapy?” Kris and Bojan asked in unison.
“Group therapy.” Nace replied seriously, nodding slowly but firmly.
“Jinx!” Bojan smirked. Kris scowled and tilted his body at a different angle, so Bojan was mostly out of his line of sight.
“All five of us?”
“No, just you two. Clearly something between you guys isn’t working and it’s affecting our productivity, as well as our stage presence.” Jure pointed out.
“Seriously. Your negative mood is killing the groove.” Jan said, referencing the Georgian Eurovision 2009 entry-to-be.
“Have you considered that maybe I don’t want to put in?” Kris retorted.
“Oh, you definitely do. You’re putting in so much effort into the band that you’re not leaving any for yourself. You need to take a damn break for once. Both of you. So I’ve booked a therapy session for Monday afternoon. And I’m driving you guys there because I know without me neither of you will go.”
“But where’s the time? We have rehearsal then.”
“Jan and I can rehearse here ourselves, Nace’s taking you guys to therapy. What use is another rehearsal where we end early because you two aren’t talking.”
Two days later, Kris and Bojan sat in the car with Nace on the way to their new therapist. Kris had claimed the front seat (so he wouldn’t have to look at Bojan until they got there) and was listening to music on his headphones. Bojan was lounging in the back, blasting Cha Cha Cha. Kris looked at Bojan from the rear view mirror, flipped him off and put his sunglasses on.
They walked into the reception and the person at the desk greeted them warmly, taking down their names.
“Feel free to take a seat. Melina will be ready shortly, she’s just having some girl dinner.” Seeing the looks on their faces, the receptionist laughed. “Don’t question it. She may be eccentric but she’s excellent at her job.”
Bojan picked a chair next to the desk, and Kris walked over to the other side of the waiting room to sit down. Bojan was staring into space, Kris was scrolling through Twitter mindlessly and the receptionist was looking mildly confused at the two of them. Another woman in a hot pink business suit walked through a different door, and Bojan hoped it was Melina. Sadly, she instead started shamelessly flirting with the receptionist, leaning heavily onto the desk, arms crossed in front of her as she talked quietly to the blushing woman behind the desk.
“Milovat shush, there are clients,” the receptionist hissed, batting away the other woman and glancing sideways at Bojan and Kris. Kris looked disgusted by the public display of affection, silently vowing that he and Bojan would never leave the building with even a fraction of that kind of tolerance for the other. Hot pink business suit woman at least had the audacity to look sheepish as the receptionist apologised for her fiancé’s behaviour, “Welcome to the love clinic boys. No one leaves here with a broken relationship.”
Kris found the wording a little odd, why would a group therapy establishment be called the love clinic? He put it down to the weird marketing fad that he’d noticed going around Southern Europe and continued scrolling through Twitter, trying to ignore both the obnoxiously in love employees still muttering by the reception desk and the ridiculous amount of content containing Bojan’s face on his feed. No matter how many times he tried to remove it, Bojan always came back. Whether it was a stupid meme or a stupider quiz, he was always popping up unexpectedly with his smug smile in interview clips or the dangerous movement of his hips on stage which Kris definitely did not look at for longer than he should have before telling the stupid app he wasn’t interested. Because he wasn’t interested. How could he be, when Bojan was so annoying?
Across the room Bojan was having similar thoughts. The exhaustion was becoming bone deep and he could feel it dragging on every aspect of his life. All he wanted was to lie down somewhere warm and safe and not move for at least a week, but instead it was rehearsal after rehearsal, show after show, interview after interview. It didn’t help that despite Jure being the CEO, Kris was in charge of everything now. This ensured he had much less tolerance for Bojan’s usual reluctance to fulfil his duties than Gregor had. With Bojan more tired than usual from the influx in shows he was more reluctant to do things and with Kris more tired from both his regular band duties and now also his duties as PR manager, he would turn to shouting rather quickly in order to get Bojan to do anything. This ended in an almost endless string of fights, one of which had happened that very morning when Kris and Nace had arrived at his apartment to drag him to the group therapy session.
The loud ring of the phone pulled both boys from their thoughts and they watched as the receptionist shushed her fiancé to answer it, muttering a few words before looking up at the two of them. “Bojan Cvjetićanin? Kris Guštin? Melina will see you now.”
“She’s in office twenty-one, just down the corridor on the right,” hot pink business suit fiancé told them, pointing with two fingers down the right corridor before going straight back to her previous flirting, the receptionist’s face turning almost as pink as her partner’s suit.
Kris took the lead, stomping towards the door whilst Bojan trailed reluctantly behind him. Kris considered going back to grab him and maybe drag him towards the door but he thought better of it and rapped his knuckles against the wood of the door thrice. After the confirmation came in the form of a muffled “come in” through the door, Kris pushed down on the handle and strode in, refusing to wait for Bojan’s short legs to catch up with him. The therapist, Melina, was sat in an emerald armchair across from a plush leather sofa which Kris guessed was strategically such a small size to force people to sit closer to one another. He pushed himself up against one side, leaving as much room as possible between himself and Bojan who had finally caught up and took a seat against the other armrest.
“Hello, I’m Melina and I’ll be your therapist for today. Have either of you done anything like this before?” she asked, adjusting her notepad on her leg. The long black dress she wore fluttered around her ankle as she brought one leg up to cross the other and Kris refrained from making a comment about how she was dressed for the funeral of their friendship when he remembered that he and Bojan were decidedly not talking.
“No, we have not.” Kris said quickly, as Bojan opened his mouth to speak.
“You keep doing that!” Bojan cried indignantly.
“Doing what?”
“Speaking on my behalf. Wow, we get it, you’re basically the manager now. Doesn’t mean I don’t have my own opinions.”
“My opinions are usually right, aren’t they?”
Melina found herself groaning internally, it was clear she was going to have her work cut out for her. That was if she could even get the two to communicate in anything but an argument. Most of the people who came through her office struggled with communication, so it wasn’t as though she couldn’t handle it, but never had she seen two people so non-verbal about their true feelings. It was clear for her to see what was happening, the first one, Kris, was desperately lashing out in an attempt to keep control over everything in his life that was threatening to slip from his grasp and the second, Bojan, was finding this constricting. The extra anxiety and emotion being put out of Kris was having an affect on him and what Melina could only assume was his usual carefree personality. He too was scared and what he needed was for Kris to be strong and reassure him about what was happening but it seemed as though he had some reservations about asking for help which was making everything he was carrying just that much harder to bear.
“So how long have you two been together?” Melina asked, leaning forward and trying to dissolve the starting fight. After the disaster that her usually tame first question had caused she was hesitant to ask the next but she needed more information if she was going to try and help them.
“Together? This idiot and I? Please.”
“Yeah, we’re barely even friends. He hates my guts.”
“I hate everyone, Bojan. You aren’t special.”
“You aren’t in a romantic relationship? Then why are you at couples’ counselling?”
“We’re at what?”
Kris felt as though he was having an out of body experience. Melina’s question had shoved his soul from his body and now he was floating casually by the ceiling, watching as his physical form below went catatonic. Kris was a hater by nature but he genuinely liked Nace, they never fought and he was always the first to offer a hug if he looked like he needed one. Nace was unproblematic, unlike somebody, and he was one of Kris’ favourite people. It was such a shame that Kris was going to have to remove his fingers from his hand next time he saw him. Or maybe he’d just break his knees, Kris didn’t want the stress of going to prison for assault or worse the extra trouble of finding a new bassist. No, it would be easier to push him down the stairs and tell the paramedics that Nace had tripped.
Bojan noticed the glint in Kris’ eye that usually meant he was considering how best to dispose of the body of the interviewer that was asking them inappropriate questions. He really hoped that the look wasn’t meant for Nace, as much as he too was annoyed that he’d lied to them, their bassist had probably had pure intentions. Friendship therapists were a ridiculous idea anyway, of course he’d just shipped them off to a couple’s councillor and hoped it would translate over to their strenuous relationship. Now that Bojan thought about it, their friendship was more similar to dating anyway. They spent all their time together, ate together, worked together, slept piled on the same hotel room beds together. Maybe what they needed really was couples counselling.
“Couples’ counselling. Did you not know?” Melina repeated, now awfully confused and jotting down a note in her flourished handwriting.
“No,” Kris muttered, clearly still struggling with the concept of not knowing all the information that was available. How dare he not Google the place before they came?
“Our friends made us go,” Bojan explained, head on slightly straighter than his bandmates.
“Is this a dare of some kind? Sorry I’m incredibly confused. Could you elaborate?”
“We’re bandmates. We haven’t been the best of friends recently so our bassist told us we had to go to group therapy so that our arguing didn’t collapse the band,” Kris mumbled, finally realising what was happening. Bojan could almost pinpoint the moment he came back to himself, the shade of his eyes correcting to their usual beautiful kaleidoscope. “He never mentioned that it was for couples. Which we are not.”
“Well would you like to continue the session anyway? It’s clear to me that you both have issues that you need to work through,” Melina stated, writing a note about bands and high stress, constant contact work lives.
“I think it would be beneficial for our relationship.”
“Our super duper platonic relationship, might I add.”
Melina pondered over what to ask them next. They seemed stressed and desperate, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of couples therapy but also grasping at straws for a way to fix their relationship issues. There was no nice way about it, not subtly probing questions she could pose and hope that they'd figure it out themselves. She'd simply have to dig her claws into the toxicity between them and pull out what was obviously the problem.
"Bojan," she addressed, turning towards him with an expectant gaze, "what is it about Kris that you think causes arguments between you?"
"He's a hater."
"You did not just call me a hater in front of a professional," Kris scoffed, pushing himself further into the sofa's arm and keeping his arms crossed firmly over his chest.
"Could you delve a little deeper into that please Bojan?" Melina asked, noting Kris' tendency to judge Bojan’s actions.
"He's been a hater ever since we met."
Bojan's first thoughts on Kris were ‘oh’. The legendary Gušti's son had just walked through the door and was about to hear Bojan play one of his father's songs. This wasn't something that happened everyday. He'd put his all into every note, hoping for even a glimmer of approval from the younger boy, feeling as though he needed to impress him. To prove himself. No one else in the hall had mattered for those few moments as Bojan's vision constricted to the small amount of space that Kris had been occupying. The drum beat faded away, then the bass, then the melody until all was left were the words tumbling from Bojan's mouth and the notes bursting forth from the strings. For as long as he lives Bojan will never forget the first words that Kris said to him. Not hi or well done or can I get your number?
"That song isn't played with distortion."
A lot of people attributed Bojan's rapidly improving musical talent to his natural ability. Bojan knew, however, that the calluses on his fingers first formed from spending night after night trying to perfect his playing. He knew that every sore throat came from singing the lyrics over and over and over far into the night. He knew that he poured every bit of himself into music even when he had nothing left to give in the hopes that one day he could erase Kris' first words to him from his mind. He had no idea why it felt so necessary to gain this little kid’s approval, why he pushed and pushed himself until his eye bags could be used to carry the weekly shop home and his voice sounded more like a chain smoker's than that of a teenage boy's.
For a while he had gotten what he wanted. But at heart Kris was always a hater, always too fast to judge, always the first to make a snide remark. Bojan missed his friend, missed when the insults came from deep somewhere in Kris' heart instead of fired from the tip of his tongue, meaningless and snappy. It hurt Bojan to watch Kris fall ever deeper into his self-induced pit of stress. Kris was too independent to ask for help and too scared of vulnerability to admit that he'd piled too much on his desk. Bojan tried to make it better, with the jokes and the silliness but he was never met with anything more than annoyance and nothing less than a grimace.
Melina made a low humming sound as she finished writing and turned to Kris, observing him squirm under her stare before she asked him the same armour-piercing question.
"He never takes anything seriously. He’s just off with Käärijä being an idiot all the time, and when he’s not with Käärijä he’s moping about not being around Käärijä and complaining about how much he misses Käärijä and checking flights so he can go visit Käärijä! It’s all he talks about and whenever they’re together Bojan just runs off because he’s finally found someone as chaotic and juvenile as him. It’s ridiculous! Yeah, the band is probably way too close to be considered healthy, we’re all so utterly codependent, but for Bojan to just ditch us with no warning for some guy he can barely communicate with isn’t very thoughtful at all! It just felt like he was only with us in Slovenia until he could find someone he thought was more successful and immediately hang out with him as well. I mean, look at the statistics. He came second, we only came twenty-first. So of course Bojan wants to hang out with Käärijä, he actually did well at Eurovision and had a real shot of winning. We were never good enough to even be contenders.”
Ah.
Suddenly, some of Kris’ recent animosity towards Bojan made sense. It was completely out of line, but things were starting to fall into place. Was Kris… jealous of Jere? Jealous of what? Bojan having a friend that didn’t make him feel completely useless and stupid?
Satisfied with an understanding of their characters, and now with a foundation of grievances she could extract something from, Melina punctuated her sentence with a final flourish and shut her notebook. This was where the fun began. Taking something broken, cracking it open to reveal the beauty inside and reshaping it into something marvellous.
“Now that that’s all out in the open, let’s get your own perspectives on the other person’s story. Addressing the allegations, if you will. Bojan, what do you have to say for yourself regarding what Kris said about you being frivolous?”
“Am I a silly person sometimes? Sure. I’m proud of it, even. But I have to be the fun one so that we all don’t drown in our own despair! Just because I’m not doing the admin work behind the scenes doesn’t mean I’m not exhausted too! I write nearly all of our songs, I do so many interviews because I speak the most languages but do I let it show? Absolutely not. I have to be stable for the others, and it’s exhausting. Sometimes what people need most is something funny so they can forget all the pain. I know that, and you need to understand that we can’t all be haters like you all the time.”
“I’m not a hater, I just miss the way things used to be! We replaced Matic with Jure, Martin with Nace-”
“Nothing, nobody can replace Martin! You saw him this morning!”
“That’s not the point, is it? Everything is changing, everyone’s leaving, and what’s next? You leave to go move to Finland for Käärijä?”
“What, like that would be so bad? When have you ever made me feel welcome? From day one, you’ve been making me feel completely incompetent. ‘This song is not played with distortion’, shut up! I was a kid! I just wanted you to think I was good at music, but no! You had to destroy all my confidence!”
“You’re still hung up on that? It’s been nine years, Bojan! Let it go!”
“I can’t, because you completely wrecked my confidence!”
“I apologised, didn’t I? You know I have trouble with social conventions, I was just trying to improve your accuracy!”
“That still doesn’t change the fact that you just walked in, watched me play and told me I was doing it all wrong!”
“Why don’t we try some more constructive language? Instead of being accusatory, try and justify your stance and introduce some more sincerity into your words.” Melina interjected, trying to prevent the serial escalation of their argument. That would come later.
“Okay, Bojan, I think it’s mean for you to hold one comment I made as a kid, which I have since apologised for several times, mind you, against me, and bring it up in nearly every interview! Especially when you had the audacity to be even ruder at Eurovision and completely ignore the rest of the band! I needed you with me and you just left!”
“I see what you’re saying, but I think you need to accept the fact that I have other people in my life outside of the band. And yes, you may not like all of them, but they’re my friends and I get to choose who I spend time with, not you! You may micromanage every single detail in the band but I won’t let you control my social life, Kris!”
“Of course you’re allowed to have friends, that’s ridiculous.”
“Then why are you so upset about Jere?”
“Eurovision has been our dream for years, Bojan. We’ve been working towards it for months, and instead of enjoying it with us, you ran off with Käärijä as soon as you met him!”
“We went to Eurovision to share our music with the world and make new connections.”
“But you can’t just completely ignore the rest of us so you and Käärijä can go ride off into the sunset and then you can go have his stupid babies, because we all know that’s what you really want. Just like how you wanted to leave the band to pursue a solo career, or how you do all sorts of things for RTV, or even your acting, you’re just using Joker Out, using us, as a stepping stone to launch yourself internationally. And if you fall in love along the way, well. That’s just a bonus, isn’t it? Eurovision was meant to be for all of us, taking on Liverpool together, but instead you’re off having dinner dates with a man who walks around half-naked!” Kris was nearly shrieking by the end of his rant.
“You think I’m the stupid one, Kris? Look at yourself! You’re being completely irrational! I’m not in love with Jere! I just hang out with him because he’s fun to be with, we haven’t known each other nearly long enough for me to be in love with him, he’s got a girlfriend and I have no interest in a long distance relationship. You’re clearly just jealous of Jere, because I’ve been spending a lot of my time with him instead of with you. But why are you jealous? Are you in love with me? Does it kill you to see me with him? Do you dream about me kissing you on stage in front of everyone?” Bojan stood up, leering at Kris. He relished being so much taller than the other man, feeling much more powerful as he taunted the guitarist.
“Does it matter? I needed you with me in Liverpool and you weren’t there!” Kris’ voice broke on the last word.
“What are you talking about?” Bojan asked, all the malice having drained from him immediately at the uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. Curse his misguided affection for Kris.
“That night you and Käärijä went out for dinner, we went to a club with some of the others.”
“Oh, right, I remember. You spent the whole night in the bathroom. Nace said you were sick because Alika had drunk you under the table.”
“Yeah, I did that because I got dumped over the phone when we were in the taxi on the way to the club.”
“That was two months ago! You’re telling me you’ve been single for two months, and you haven’t told me?”
“What do you care? It’s not like I have any time for a girlfriend now that I’m basically doing everything here.”
“I care because despite the fact that you hate me now, you’re still one of my best friends! You’ve been upset for months and you haven’t told me anything. You can’t just bottle up all your feelings until you explode at someone!” Bojan reached his arm over to hook it around Kris’ shoulders, but Kris flinched at the contact and turned away instinctively.
“Maybe you should be a bit more perceptive, Bojan.”
“Can we go back to when you said you needed me in Liverpool? What happened?”
“What did I say the last time I got dumped horribly?”
“...Ne govoriva več o tem?”
“Exactly.”
“We’re in couple’s therapy, Kris. You’re going to have to talk about it.”
The absolute last thing Kris wanted to do was to talk about it. But they were here, and Nace had already paid for the session beforehand and they needed to fix things before the band truly fell apart. Talking about what had happened two months ago took him back to what had happened five years ago, the situations far too similar for comfort, but addressing one meant addressing the other and the real reason Kris had written that stupid song in the first place.
Kris’ first serious girlfriend came when they were seventeen, and it was as if all the songs that Bojan had written about girls had finally made sense to him. Sure, Kris could relate to the pining, but the giddy feelings that came with having affections reciprocated was thrillingly new and he adored what it felt like to be in love. He found himself scribbling down little songs in the middle of the night, waking up missing the feeling of her arms around him and frantically scrawling his emotions onto the pages of the little green notebook he stashed under his bed.
He wrote so many songs about love, trying to emulate Bojan’s lyrical style, but they never sounded as good as the older boy’s. Bojan’s love songs described engaging and exciting romantic prospects, but Kris seemed to be repeating the same boring literary clichés. So he spent even more time with Bojan to try and absorb Bojan’s genius via osmosis. This certainly improves his lyrics, but when he tries to write about his girlfriend’s pretty blue eyes or her delicate hands on his shoulders, he finds himself daydreaming about deep brown eyes and the calloused hands of a musician, and ends up writing about the joys of friendship.
He couldn’t possibly understand why nothing made sense, even if he really really liked spending every possible second with her, but she seemed to be pushing him away. He contemplated confronting her about it, but instead devoted even more time to her, neglecting his rehearsals in order to take her out for ice cream and travel to museums. Eventually, however, she came to Kris with an agenda after school one day.
“I’m breaking up with you, Kris.” she told him, matter-of-factly.
“What? Why?”
“It’s not right to date someone who’s in love with someone else. I have to prioritise myself.”
“You’re in love with someone else?” Kris asked, bewildered.
“No I’m not, I was talking about you.”
“Me?”
“Who could I possibly be in love with? I’m not the one performing in a band every weekend, am I?”
“Who are you talking about? There aren’t any other girls.”
“Who said anything about girls?”
“I honestly have no idea what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying I know about your little secret.”
“My secret. What’s this secret that even I don’t know about?”
“What? I’m talking about you being in love with Bojan. It’s totally fine, love wins or whatever, but don’t keep lying to yourself.”
“You think I’m in love with… with Bojan? Seriously? Is this some kind of joke?”
“You're drawn to him like a melody. Even when you're not with him, it's always ‘Bojan would find this funny’ or ‘wait a second, I have to send a picture of this to Bojan’. It may not be the huge romantic gestures that your oblivious mind clearly needs in order to be able to deduce anything, but those tiny acts of remembrance, of thoughtfulness and connection; that's love, Kris. Maybe you should start realising it.”
“Yeah, as a friend. I don’t love him, I love you!”
“Do you really? I have no doubt that you like me, but is it love or just an obsession?”
Kris was about to retort that it wasn’t an obsession, but he faltered at his girlfriend’s words. Was it love, what he felt for her? Or was love what he felt for Bojan?
“Love isn’t always found in elaborate letters, in special songs, or even in those huge romantic gestures I just mentioned. Sure, it can be, but restricting love to a special occasion isn’t right, it diminishes its power as the driving force of humanity. Sometimes it can be as simple as a gentle touch or just the thought of someone else. Not everything needs to be like the opening scene of La La Land, which, might I remind you, you watched with Bojan and not me!”
“You don’t even like musicals. Bojan asked me to go with him.”
“To La La Land, Kris.”
“...I see your point now.”
“Look, I get it. You had no idea you even liked him, and that’s probably really overwhelming. I support you, but I’m breaking up with you. Sorry it had to end this way, but maybe you can get your act together and ask Bojan out soon before I literally explode from the tension between you too.”
Before Kris could even say anything, she flipped her hair and sashayed away. Kris was left alone in the hallway, his hands on his hips in confusion as the lights flickered off to signify that the school building would close soon. On the way home, he was barely conscious of what had just happened, sinking into bed as soon as he walked through the door.
His mother stuck her head through the doorway, asking him to come and eat dinner. He waved her away, telling her he wasn’t hungry. She leaned over him, ran her hands through his hair softly, and left. A few minutes later, she let herself in again to set down a plate of food before shutting the door. He shovelled it into his mouth mechanically and didn’t speak for the rest of the evening.
Bojan stopped by the next morning, ready to drive them both to school. Martin usually rode with them, but that day he was going to an appointment in the morning. So it was just the two of them in the car, and Kris couldn’t bear to be in the same confined space with Bojan. He usually called shotgun when Martin was with them, but when Bojan pulled up in the driveway, Kris got into the backseat without a word.
“Kris, what happened?”
“Ne govoriva več o tem.” Kris said, with an air of finality that guaranteed silence for the remainder of the car ride. As Bojan drove with a look of concern on his face, something in his mind slotted into place, and he spent the entire school day scribbling furiously on scrap paper. He had finally written another song he could be proud of, and the band loved it when he played it for them. Bojan seemed relieved that Kris’ apparent crisis had improved, and so they never actually went into what had happened. They’d always skirted around it, but the dynamic between the two of them had forever been altered.
“So it really was about me?” Bojan asked Kris, shuffling slightly closer.
“Of course.” Kris said, averting his eyes.
“You’re in love with me?”
“That’s what two of my girlfriends have broken up with me about, so I’m seeing a pattern here.” Kris said as he shrugged aggressively. Kris refused to elaborate, and Bojan didn’t respond. It would appear they had reached a stalemate.
“Forgive me for interrupting, but Kris, didn’t you say that you needed Bojan? What is the correlation between relationships being ended and Bojan in Liverpool?” Melina said.
“Right, sorry.”
“I think we were a little bit sidetracked by the declaration of Kris’ undying love-”
“Not now, Bojan.” Kris said, before falling silent. Melina sighed. Kris had literally just revealed that he was in love with Bojan, and yet still refused to communicate.
“Kris? Do you care to continue?”
“I suppose I have to, don’t I?”
“If you cannot say it right now, that is fine. You should not force yourself to say things if you do not wish to, but it will almost certainly help the two of you figure out how to care for the fragile thing between the two of you. Sometimes, just talking can be beneficial, and so I cannot possibly recommend it more. Still, it is ultimately your decision.” Melina assured him.
“I’ll say it. I’m just trying to find a way to express it. I’m not really used to the whole, you know, talking-about-it thing.”
“Take your time.”
“Yeah, okay. So I’d just been broken up with because my ex thought I was in love with you. She said I kept complaining about you being annoying and I couldn’t stop talking about you every minute of every day. But whenever I was with you I would just stare at you stupidly the way I stared at her, and it was exactly the same thing that I was told five and a half years ago, because I’m nothing if not consistent, and so if two unrelated people have reached the same conclusion, maybe I am in love with you and maybe I have been in love with you for years without realising it! And I didn’t like having that realisation in the middle of a club after getting dumped on the phone and I needed some space, but it was just too loud and too crowded and I couldn’t take it anymore!” Kris’ eyes were wide and he was clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly. Bojan tentatively scooted ever so slightly closer and rested a hand lightly on Kris’ arm.
“Oh, Krisko, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you had a panic attack that night. If I had known, I would have come straight to you. Screw dinner, you’re more important than anyone else,” Bojan said, with a newfound resolve and protectiveness solidifying in his eyes.
“You were right though, you had every right to be at dinner with Käärijä. You had no way of knowing I’d get broken up with, and by no means was it your responsibility to be there.”
“You got dumped because of me, and when you’re not being a jerk, you’re my favourite person. Even if it wasn’t my responsibility, I should have been there for you. God, I should have made it easier to talk to me about these things, but no, I just ran off with the first person I saw because I wanted some fun-”
“Stop it! My breakup doesn’t exclude you from being friends with people, does it?”
“I suppose not,” Bojan admitted.
“See? We are capable of having normal conversations.” Kris smiled weakly.
“But it’s my fault you’re even in love with me! I’m just too irresistible!”
“What? You really think that? You arrogant little-”
“I’m only joking, Krisko.” Bojan grinned as Kris rolled his eyes.
“Bojan, why exactly do you insist this situation was your own fault?” Melina inquired.
“I guess… I don’t know, he’s just had to go through so much pain because of me! He’s been dumped twice and had a panic attack he was too afraid to tell me about because he’s in love with me!” Bojan was just as aggravated as Kris had been moments prior.
“Is there something else you’ve been keeping from Kris? Something that’s relevant but you’re too afraid to say?”
“It doesn’t matter, it won’t change anything.”
“Bojan, listen to me. Kris has told you everything he possibly can, but you’re choosing to keep things from him. Is that fair?”
“Fair? Is it fair that nearly every song I’ve written is about him? The fact that every time I’m with a girl I wish it was him? The fact that I can’t bring myself to be with a man because it won’t be him? Is that fair?” Tears threatened to force their way down Bojan’s face.
“Bojči…” Kris whispered softly, but Bojan was staring right at Melina.
“Is it fair that he had to suffer for years because I was too afraid to tell him that I’ve been in love with him since we met, even after he broke my heart and completely shattered my self-esteem? Is it fair that I can’t even look at him now to tell him these things?”
“Oh, Bojči, do you really mean it?”
"I have been withered by these emotions for years and yet the person they've hurt most has been Kris. Maybe I shouldn't deserve to get to love him if my love has only ever hurt him."
There was an achingly long pause that stretched through the office, curling its way around the three of them like a great dragon coming to rest, smoke billowing into Bojan's eyes and forcing him to blink away the tears forming there.
"Bojan, look at me."
"Bojan I mean it, look at me."
"Boja-"
He cut Kris off with a heartbreaking look, eyes gazing up at him through wet lashes, scared and unknowing.
"Do you remember that day I showed up to your house in the rain? You didn't ask any questions, you just pulled me inside, threw a towel at me and put on La La Land. Or that time when I got too overstimulated so you kicked everyone out of the greenroom so that I could calm down in peace before the show? Or when we were in that really bad fight last month, you still got me my coffee because you knew I'd stayed up late with the paperwork and was really tired? Wasn't that love? Because even if you think your feelings have only hurt me there's a thousand and one little moments where they've saved me. How about you let me save you back? Won't you let me love you? I think you deserve it."
"Please."
Melina smiled to herself knowingly, once again she had done it, she really was a genius if she did say so herself.
"This, boys, is what we call a breakthrough. Just to summarise, what have we both learned from this little exercise?"
"That Bojan's an idiot."
"Kris, you hater!"
"No, though in all seriousness I think maybe I should communicate my needs more, specifically when I'm overworked and need a break."
"And you, Bojan?"
"That keeping my feelings bottled up for so long isn't healthy and that talking to people about them is important."
"I'm proud of you both," Melina smiled, closing her notebook with a sharp snap and relishing in the satisfying clanging of her pen falling back into the pot on her desk.
As they walked out of Melina’s office, hand in hand, Kris looked over at the three receptionists. Because of course there were three of them now. The first one was laughing and spinning in her chair and hot pink business suit fiancée was pressing the new one against the wall. Kris squeezed Bojan’s hand twice and Bojan looked over at the trio behind the desk, utterly perplexed.
When they exited the building, not only was Nace waiting for them in the car park, but he was also accompanied by Jure and Jan, the former of which waving at them excitedly from the car window as they approached.
"So," Nace asked, eyes focusing on their joint hands. "Do I have to go back to the cruise ship or is the band going to be fine?"
"Lucky for you, Nace, we will not be shipping you out to sea again," Bojan joked, motioning for Jure to move over in the back seat so that he and Kris could get in the car.
"We talked it out a little-"
"A lot."
"-and, well, let's just say we said some things."
"Kris loves me," Bojan butted in.
"I told you that in confidence! And I only just realised it, you're the one who's kept your feelings buried for years like some sad yearning bridge troll."
"There room for two on that cruise ship?" Jan muttered under his breath, utterly ignored by Nace who was ecstatic over the new occurrence.
"I knew it! I told you Jure, what did I say?"
"Your exact words were 'I bet those two idiots love each other, let's send them to couples therapy so they can stop arguing like an old married couple' or something to that effect," Jan recited from his spot in the passenger seat, slowly slipping a ten euro note across the console to Nace.
"You planned this?" Kris screeched from where he was half play fighting, half real fighting Bojan.
"Oh would you look at that, the light’s green!"
"We are still in the carpark…" Kris protested, as Bojan licked his face affectionately.