Friday's schedule was packed.

The semi-final was tonight and the day was filled with interviews, activities and a dress rehearsal for the performance. Thankfully, the Dutch team's personal organiser was efficient with his clipboard in hand and his mobile constantly updating the EBU on Joost's whereabouts. His own team didn't need to worry about a thing and Fenne was eternally grateful.

'I was told about your impressive gabber dance moves. Will we be seeing any of that on stage in Malmö?' the interview asked, holding the microphone to Joost.

On the sofa, the Dutch representative sat in his blue suit with his glasses over his eyes. Behind him, Apson stood in his bird suit and Stuntje joined him in his own attire. The trio were doing the last round of questions before they needed to head to the dress rehearsal.

'Yes. Yes. At the moment, I think yes. I am like water. I'm very fluid,' Joost answered in English. 'I can go everywhere. I can go in places like the butt crack where nobody comes... yeah.'

Fenne and Hanna planted their faces into their palms. The laughter of the interviewer teamed with Apson and Stuntje's restrained wheezes. Along with Teun and Nathan, who stood dumbfounded, the women wondered what was going through Joost's head. They knew enough English to know that Joost had said something inapproriate on international television.

'I think we need to get him a PR representative,' Nathan stated.

'Why does he always talking about coming in things?' Fenne whined into her hand. 'My parents watched the interview he did where he hoped The Netherlands would come inside him.'

'What did they say about it?'

'What do you think they said, Hanna?'

Hanna pressed her lips together at her friend's distress. As the semi-finale drew closer, Fenne was inching towards a nervous breakdown. While Joost paraded around like a walking PR disaster, Fenne followed close behind as a bag of nerves. No matter how hard she tried to sit back, she couldn't stop the urges to cringe when Joost would make social anxiety tremble in its boots.

To distract herself, Fenne pulled her phone out of her pocket. The many Instagram and TikTok posts that she had posted for promoting the semi-final left her apps riddled with notifications. The only app that didn't have a red circle and a high number next to it was the news icon. Out of desperation, Fenne tapped on it and began scrolling.

Of course, all she saw were Eurovision articles. The Netherlands' press were posting nonstop about their representative who had gained worldwide support. Pictures of Joost in his current outfit occupied her feed and Fenne scrolled mindlessly. She had read it all already and she wasn't sure what she was even hoping to find.

Israeli representative makes political statement on war in the Middle East

Fenne scrolled past, not wanting any negativity to add to her anxiety. It was inevitable that politics and the terrible things happening in the world would make its way into Eurovision. The underlying issues of having a controversial representative at the competition was being ignored by most, but not everyone. The press hounded the contestant and the EBU took extra measures to control the political talk. But it seemed that the Eden Golan had her own things to say on the matter.

'Jesus Christ, these guys again?'

Fenne looked up at Nathan's hiss. The man stared to their right, where a team of people laughed and giggled behind their hands. They acted as if the Dutch team couldn't see them as they looked over their shoulders before gossiping to the next person. When Fenne saw them pull out their phones and position their cameras in their direction, an alarm bell rang in her head.

'Where are you going, Fenne?' she ignored Teun's voice as she made her way towards the group.

'Excuse me?' her English was heavily accented but it garnered the attention she wanted.

'Yes?'

'No photos, please. No filming,' she said, moving her hand from side to side to emphasise her statement.

The snickers that she received made Fenne's blood boil. She didn't know where her sudden confidence came from. Her English was poor and confrontation was not her strong suit. But while Joost was having his interview and her stress levels were high, Fenne couldn't be bothered with being timid and polite.

'Oh, we weren't filming you,' a woman said innocently, but Fenne knew better.

'Please don't post us. We don't want photos.'

'You're the Dutch representative's girlfriend, right?' the woman said again. 'And your friend is the bird's?'

Laughter rang out from behind the woman and Fenne's eyebrow twitched. She understood enough to know they were mocking her and Hanna. She raked her brain for some English terms that Joost had taught her but came up with nothing. The frustration and embarrassment from her silence stung her chest and Fenne felt her confidence dwindling.

A hand enclosed around her forearm and Fenne looked behind her. Nathan was stood there with a frown. Shaking his head subtly, Nathan told Fenne a great deal without saying a word. She wanted to make it known to the group that their cameras weren't welcome. But her judgement was being clouded by her stress, frustration and anxiety. She had to remember that they were here for Joost.

'If you film or take photos of us again, we'll let the security know,' Nathan said from beside Fenne, his English much better than hers. This made the giggling group pause and lower their phones. There were several eye rolls before they turned away.

'That made me so angry-'

'I know, Fenne. They've done it before.'

'What?'

Fenne's exasperation came out in a hushed whisper. She tried to get an explanation as Nathan tugged her back to where Hanna and Teun stood stoicly. They had watched the interaction while glancing nervously towards the oblivious Joost. He continued his interview in front of the camera, unaware of the interaction behind him.

'We've already talked to security about it. We didn't want you to worry,' Nathan said, his eyes shifting to the Klein on the sofa. 'Or tell Joost, for that matter.'

'Do they think it's funny?' Fenne raised an eyebrow.

'We don't know, but Fenne, we can't lose our heads. Joost is so close to winning this thing and we need to make sure that nothing ruins it for him. You want him to win this as much as he does, right?'

'Of course!'

'Then ignore them. It's not worth it.'

Nathan's seriousness was a drastic change from his usual demeanour. His gummy smile was nowhere to be seen and it did wonders in soothing Fenne's anger.

The thought of Joost winning Eurovision was Fenne's priority. He had been working fiercely to be nominated and now that he was in Sweden, in front of the cameras, and having global support, Joost was finally getting the recognition he deserved. Fenne needed to prioritise him and his progress, no matter how much he insisted he could do it on his own.

The snickers and iPhone cameras were not worth the distraction.

'You're right. I'm sorry,' Fenne said to Nathan, taking a deep breath. 'You're good at this, you know?'

Nathan's award-winning smile returned as he said,

'Sometimes Joost needs pep talks. I'll add you to my list of receivers.'

—-

Joost was set to perform last. Fenne hated this, because it left the team to remain backstage while each contestant returned with their faces ridden with relief. Everyone gave a magnificent performance and set the bar higher than the last.

When Joost was asked in an interview about his placement, he confidently said,

'They put me as last! I see you, EBU! You're scared! You're scared for the boom boom!'

This was reflected in Joost's aura backstage. While sat in the make-up chair, the blonde joked heartily with everyone who came to wish him good luck.

'You'll do great!' Bambie cheered. 'I'll be seeing you in the final, no doubt about it!'

'You fucking bet!'

Bambie turned from the man in their white and black make-up and caught sight of an anxious Fenne. She stood in the corner of the dressing room on her phone, her thumb nail between her teeth and her other thumb furiously scrolling. The Irish contestant had a few interactions under their belt with the Dutch woman and had seen the videos of her and Joost all over social media. Bambie knew anxiety, worry and stress when they saw it, and sympathised for her.

While Joost shrugged everything off, like the water off a duck's back, Fenne trailed behind him carrying the bucket with a hole in the bottom.

'Girl, you've got to chill out,' Bambie stopped in front of Fenne and put an acrylic-fingernailed hand over her phone screen. This forced Fenne to tear her gaze upwards and meet the tall contestant.

'You've got nothing to worry about. Joost will knock it out the park,' Bambie said. 'Have a drink and sit back. Twelve points to The Netherlands!'

The hoots of Stuntje, Apson, Teun and Nathan sounded and Bambie turned to cheer with them. Fenne wished she could do the same but could do nothing but watch the Irish contestant leave to the arena. Bambie would be with the other contestants up in their designated area cheering loudly. Their own performance the night before had been a stunner, so they had nothing to worry about.

The call time came and the team headed towards the stage. Fenne found solitude in Hanna, walking at the back with her hands clamped around her friend's arm. Stuntje and Apson, dressed in his bird suit, walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Joost, their entrance being filmed by a camera man up the front.

Stuntje dapped his friend up and Joost eagerly accepted it for support. He could hear the crowd in the arena already singing Europapa and it made his insides flare with electricity. He had waited years for this and he was finally going to show his parents that their son was successful. They didn't need to worry about the boy they left behind, because Joost Klein was Europe's champion, no matter what.

Malmö Arena was in darkness. Hoots and whispers from crowd preempted the Dutch team's arrival. The air was thick with anticipation and before Joost headed for the stage, he stopped. He took a deep breath, twisted around to find Fenne, who stood with Hanna, Nathan and Teun. His back-up dancers, Apson and Stuntje had walked ahead, leaving him to remember who would be waiting for him backstage.

'I love you,' Fenne mouthed, her fingernails digging into Hanna's arm.

'I love you, too,' Joost mouthed back, before flashing a toothy grin and heading for the stage.

---

The performance was electric. The crowd didn't let Joost rest for a moment with their shouts in unison. Stuntje and Apson DJed on his left and right, dancing around and playing along to Joost's energy. From the second Europapa started, to when the music slowed and the lights dimmed, Joost had made it.

With a single spotlight and his free-standing microphone against his cheek, Joost turned to the main camera. Through the sweat and heaving breaths, Joost made his final address to the person who he wished could see him today.

'At the end of the day, we are all human beings.

My father told me that the world has no borders. "I miss you every day" is what I whisper to myself.

You see, Dad? I did listen to you.'

From: Me
To: My Parents.

The large screen displayed the words that Joost had written himself. He couldn't stop himself from spluttering, his cheeks wet with tears and a ball in his throat. Every day was hard, and yet, he was here. He was still going, still singing, still dancing, just like his parents would have wanted him to.

The lights dimmed and the arena erupted with screams and applause. Joost wiped at his face, pushing away what tears that still welled, and turned to see Stuntje and Apson's wide grins. They knew that it had been difficult for him, but they did what they did best and pulled their best friend in for an embrace.

'You did it, dude. You made it,' Apson said into his ear and Joost was almost crying all over again.