Work Text:
Zoë slumped against the headboard of her hotel bed, her eyes feeling heavier than ever, yet she could not sleep. It was 7:30 A.M, and she needed to be up and ready to attend some final rehearsals for PrePartyES in Madrid later in the evening. The spring season of April arriving meant allergies, which Zoë was unfortunately a victim of. Combined with the fact that it had been raining the past few weeks, she was definetly feeling under the weather recently.
As much as she would love to call in sick, the thought of giving a last minute announcement that she would not be able to perform to the Eurovision fans awaiting her appearance in the season before Basel would have broken her heart. Those who have most likely spent a fortune in travel and hotel fees, as well as getting those tickets to see her perform made Zoë feel guilty about backing out now.
Additionally, she would miss out on the opportunity to meet up and interact with the other contestants, chances to get to know them better and maybe make some silly videos that she would definitely look back in a few years with nostalgia. So she dragged herself out of bed and rumaged through her suitcase to find some medication.
Zoë would be fine. She was doing alright from the moment she took her medicine, getting through the rehearsals, interviews and interactions with the Class of 2025 just fine. Despite her voice lacking the power it used to have, as well as it being a bit raspy while singing the bridge of Voyage, everything went smoothly, heaving a sigh of relief as soon as she stepped off stage. Zoë was alright, she was going to be okay.
Until she was not.
・
It was customary for the performers to have a private after-party, a celebration for everyone who went on stage during PrePartyES, and a well-deserved break after being in the public's eyes for a long time. Contestants were mingling together, a mixture of chuckling and chattering filling the function room, along with the bar mixing and filling up glasses of a variety of drinks for the artists. A classic euroclub song was being blasted on the overhead speakers, making some of them bust their moves on the dance floor while the others hollered and cheered in encouragement. Overall, a bright, electric atmosphere, fun bouncing off the walls of the room. Everyone was energetic, enjoying and making a fool of themselves.
Zoë, however, sat with a bottle of water in her hand, her back leaned against the plush of a couch away from the party, the loud crowd and even louder music. Her head was throbbing, pulses of pain that went through her veins every second. Her nose was blocked beyond belief, her throat drier than a desert despite taking a sip of water a while ago. Not to mention that her surroundings felt cold, but her body felt she was in KAJ's sauna, getting increasingly warmer and warmer. Resting her head on the table, she glanced at the rest of the artists having the time of their lives, wishing that she could just... ignore her ailments and interact with her fellow competitors. Zoë felt her eyes growing heavier once again,and she was about to doze off, wanting some rest... until a familiar voice called out to her.
"...Zoë? Hello...? You there?"
Zoë slowly lifted her head up from the table to see who managed to find and talk to her when they could be doing other things, like join the chaotic after-party a few tables away. Admittedly, she was a bit irritated as to who would disturb her rest, but that went away as soon as she spotted those familiar dark curls and small smile.
"...Gjon? Why aren't you... you know, partying with the other contestants?" Zoë muttered, her voice still a bit raspy, which caused her to cough. Gjon had been one of the few familiar faces during the whole Eurovision season — a friend of her's for 7 years — so it was expected that they would definitely cross paths during these extremely busy and crazy months leading up to the contest.
In fact, just a few hours ago, when Zoë was feeling much better than she did now, she was having a pleasant conversation with Gjon, getting Eurovision advice from him and reminiscing about their old times at the music program where they first met each other. They even took a selfie together, one that Zoë was going to post on her Instagram later. She thought it would be a long while before the two would see each other again, so she did not expect it to be this early... and in this kind of state as well.
"Why are you worrying about me? Look at you!" Gjon exclaimed, his eyes filled with worry as he walked towards Zoë, sitting beside her on the couch. He lightly pressed his hand against her forehead, eyes widening at the sheer warmth he felt. Taking Zoë's arm, he helped her stand up from the couch before leading her towards the exit.
"...Where are you... taking me...?" Zoë spoke, her words borderlining on being incoherent. Outside the function room was a taxi stand, in which Gjon made her sit on one of the waiting benches while pulling out his phone to call for one.
"You are not alright. I'm taking you to my hotel."
・
So that was how Zoë Më ended up in her friend's hotel room, bundled up in a thick blanket while sipping on a cup of piping hot tea, courtesy of Gjon. Normally, one would be freaked out if someone just took them to their hotel room out of nowhere, especially in such a vulnerable state, but Zoë and Gjon had been known each other for so long that she could trust his instincts; that whatever he was doing was for her own good, despite it being against her own wishes. Besides, it would not be the first time that Gjon had "saved" Zoë from a dire situation before.
The door to the hotel bedroom opened and Gjon came in, holding a damp towel in one and a bowl of what appeared to be soup in the other. Placing the items on the bedside drawer, he held Zoë's shoulder to make her face him whilst he pressed his hand against her forehead once again. A strange feeling spread across Zoë's body at the close contact, her cheeks feeling warmer than usual, but she chalked it up to the fever acting up. After a while, Gjon removed his hand from her forehead, replacing it with the damp towel, which was quite cold.
"Why didn't you tell anyone that you were extremely sick? Surely your management team could have done something to ensure your well-being." Gjon asked, his eyes downturned, mouth curled in a frown. Zoë stayed silent, lacking the words to explain herself without getting interrogated further by him, opting instead to lean against the headboard and let Gjon talk his thoughts out.
"Zoë, you know that as your friend I care about you a lot, right?" Gjon spoke, his voice soft in volume. "You are never alone in going through difficult times. I just wished that you had told me that you were not feeling well sooner." He continued, scooping a bit of the now lukewarm soup from the bowl, lightly tapping the spoon against the corner of Zoë's mouth, causing her to lift herself off the headboard, with some difficulty.
"Here, have some soup. Say 'Ah'..."
・
The words kept on floating around Zoë's mind as she rested, taunting her in a way.
"As your friend."
Sure, friends look out for each other in times of need. That was common sense. But friends don't throw away the time that they could have spent having fun at the after-party taking care of a sick person, right? Friends wouldn't be risking their own health to sit beside you on the same bed, checking your temperature every 30 minutes. Most of all, friends definitely do not sleep on your shoulder right after feeding you soup.
It all felt so foreign to Zoë. To be looked after, to have her needs met, to be... cared for. Especially when the person caring for her was someone she has grown so close to over the years, every meetup, every word spoken to each other, every memory contained this unknown feeling. She could compare it to seeing a flower bloom for the first time, or seeing the sunrise.
Zoë's thoughts were interrupted when she felt the space beside her move, indictating that Gjon was waking up.
"Ah, Mon Ani..., sorry for not checking up on you," Gjon yawned, stretching his arms. He placed his hand over Zoë's forehead, nodding in approval. "Your fever has gone down by a bit, thank goodness. How are you feeling now?"
Zoë wanted to answer Gjon's question, it would have been a simple "Yes" or "I'm alright", but her mind settled on something else. Mon Ani. Did he mean mon amie, that cliche way of addressing your friend in French? That would be amie, not ani. She found it a bit amusing.
"Mon... Ani? Gjon, what are you talking about?" Zoë asked, attempting to hide her chuckling. "Are you trying out some nickname on me?" He turned to face her, eyes widened with a hand over his mouth, as if he did not intend to say that in the first place, or he didn't think that Zoë would have heard it. And if she was looking close enough, she could make out his cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink.
"Well— Uh— It's like the classic mon amie, but its a play on your name... you know... Anina...? Mon Ani...?" Gjon explained, stammering between his words whilst gesturing his hands around tentatively. Zoë sat there silently, certainly not knowing how to react to this.
It's a cute nickname, and for most of her life, she didn't have people calling her by one, since her given name was already so short. So this felt more of a term of endearment, a name you give to someone to differentiate their relationship with you — that you mean so much to them that calling each other by name isn't personal enough that you have to call them by something else. The thought of this gave Zoë that unfamiliar feeling again, combined with everything else that Gjon did tonight, she started to connect the dots.
This was more than a simple act of kindness, a display of friendship. This was a declaration of love. This was his feelings towards her in the form of actions rather than words. It's been like that in the 7 years they knew each other, and in that moment, Zoë found out that feeling she had felt all this while.
Zoë moved closer to Gjon, and wrapped her blanket covered arms around him in a warm embrace, earning a small noise of worry from him. "Ah— Thank you." He managed to mutter, reciprocating the action. In the midst of the hug, Zoë had one question on her mind.
"Aren't you worry that I'll make you sick?"
Gjon's answer left Zoë speechless.
"For you, Mon Ani, I could be in the hospital for all I care. I just need you to be well, that's my cure."
Zoë smiled, giggling slightly. Maybe there will come a day where their feelings for each other can finally be put into words, whether in a quiet day where the time stopped just for them, or an out of this world experience that felt as though the world held it's breath for the confession.
For now, this tender moment was enough for her. This was her cure.