Chapter Text
Sometimes everything about Bojan just screamed "youngest child": very charming and affectionate, yet so attention loving, loud and perhaps even semi-spoiled. It also meant he had a tendency to over-dramatize, and, in times of misery, he absolutely had a need to be coddled, kissed on the head and reassured in his own incredibility.
Umfortunately for Bojan, sometimes everything about Kris screamed "oldest child".
"Up, up," Kris mercilessly snatched the curtains open, letting the sunlight fill in the room. On his bed, hiding in a nest of blankets and a couple sweaters, Bojan hissed like a infuriated cat.
"No, get out! This is my room, go to your own!"
Very brave words for someone who, despite being the only one with a single bedroom, constantly hopped from one of the shared bedrooms to another (from Kris and Nace's to Jan and Jure's), sometimes with a quick stop at the kitchen, which always resulted into crumbs in all the beds in the house.
Kris simply ignored the grumbling, and instead threw a sharp, judging glance all over Bojan's bedroom- which was, frankly speaking, in a terrible state. Piles of clothes on every surface and furniture piece, multiple full ashtrays and empty takeout boxes, stray sheets of paper filled with scribbles...
"You call this a room? A landfill, that's more like it."
Bojan's own glassy gaze followed Kris' around the room.
"It's a little messy, yes."
Demonstratively, Kris picked up a pair of underwear from the floor; not with his own hands, hell no- with a neck of an empty beer bottle that laid neatly on the floor as well.
"Messy wouldn't even begin to describe it," he declared, tossing both the bottle and the underwear on a nearest clothes pile "How the fuck did you manage that? Why is Jure and Jan's room a Buckingham palace next to yours? Get up, it's ten in the morning."
"We have a day off. I can lay in bed all day."
"Here is your task for the day off- clean your room. Come on, you would let Jere sleep in this garbage pile? What will he think when he comes to London?"
Frankly speaking, Kris had no doubt that Jere would gladly sleep in a carboard box if only Bojan stayed next to him. But at this point they all got used to using "what would Jere think?" as a way to make Bojan do his house duties. Just yesterday it helped him to lure Bojan into washing the dishes, because "you would not want Jere to eat from with a plastic fork because we don't have a single clean cutlery piece, right?".
But this time, instead of getting up, Bojan leaned down, pulled out his old guitar somewhere under the bed and sat back on the matress leg-crossed.
"Jere is not coming to London," he said quietly, absent-mindedly running his hand over the strings. Something dropped in Kris' chest.
"Shit. I'm sorry."
Bojan shook his head.
"Schedule conflict," he tried to pull off a smile, but it turned out rather crooked. He still avoided looking Kris in the eye "No big deal."
As Bojan said "no big deal", he slammed the strings with a little more precision, a little more emotion (dissapointment, anger, sorrow), and Kris couldn't help prickening up his ears. If there was a tune, there could be lyrics, and there could be a song. Bojan's situation was sad and devastating, but they were both musicians, and pouring their hearts into music was how they both coped.
"No big deal," Bojan mouthed again under his breath, hitting the strings in the same order (so the tune was definetely there) "We talked yesterday, Jere said: I won't come, and I said: it's fine, brother, next time. It's fine, really. I'm good."
Careful now, Kris. You have a heartbroken, miserable man in front of you. You have to be nice and say a considerate, kind thing.
"I think you are doing everything wrong."
Bojan's hand on the strings stopped.
"What?"
"Why do you keep calling him brother? You don't call a potential boyfriend brother, broski or bro," Kris declared confidently "It will stay deep in the potential boyfriend's subconscious and ruin your chances."
"It's different!" Bojan exclaimed, face flushed "We call each other brothers all the time and it doesn't ruin anything!"
"Secondly, you don't take any action, act like you don't care. If you want some advice, I..."
"I do care, I'm just trying to be a good friend!"
"No, you are being stupid and this is not how you get a boyfriend!
"Oh, how would you know anything about getting a boyfriend!"
Kris choked on air.
"The fuck does that..."
"Don't teach me how to get a boyfriend, cause I don't exactly see yours anywhere!" Bojan barked back angrily. He looked genuinely distressed, and at the same time- like he would smash Kris' head with a guitar if he dared to say one more word, so Kris swallowed it down.
"These notes you just played? Write them down," he said instead and turned on his heels to leave the room. Already in the doorway, he stopped to throw:
"I'm going to Damon's. And for the fuck's sake, clean your room."
**
"Something's bothering you," Damon's words came out not as a question, but as a statement.
They had planned a photoshoot for this morning, but Damon was able to sense Kris' distress which he could not hide in front of the camera, and soon enough Damon simply shut the lense and suggested they grab some lunch.
Kris sighed over his coffee cup.
"It's nothing, no big deal. Wait- fuck, no. I'm better than this. Something happened, yes. Jere's not coming to London."
"Oh," Damon grew silent "Is Bojan alright?"
"No. He will be fine, but as for now... no. And we had a fight over the whole boyfriend thing."
As he explained the situation, Damon's brows furrowed.
"And is there even..." Damon made a vague gesture with his hand "Between them, you know. The feeling is mutual?"
"Yes," Kris said immediately "Definetely. From both sides. Look, I've know Bojan for years, he is just so used to getting whoever he wants to fall in love with him without trying. But now there are obstacles and distance, and even competition- suddenly he is not the hottest and funniest guy in the picture anymore, there are other guys there as well. Jere can't just throw everything away and come to London, and Bojan panics and calls him "brother" of all things, and now he mopes in his room and..."
"And he doesn't listen to you?" there was humour in Damon's voice, but he was listening attentively. It was nice to be listened to with such attention, Kris realised: he loved his bandmates more than anything and they were all good listeners, but sometimes he'd be met with a brick wall instead of ready ears.
"He doesn't," Kris scoffed "I would give him advice- if he ever listened..."
Something passed on Damon's face.
"What would you do?" he asked suddenly "To get a boyfriend? Hypothetically."
Kris hesitated, slightly taken aback by the question. Bojan's harsh response has had a hint of truth in it: a boyfriend wasn't present in Bojan's life, but there wasn't exactly one in Kris' life as well. Did his lack of experience allow him to...?
"Hypothetically," Damon repeated, clearly having noticed Kris' hesitation. He smiled that lovely, encouraging smile of his that always helped Kris relax during a photoshoot "You know, in theory. What would you do to win this hypothetical boyfriend's heart?"
Ah well, Kris could work with "in theory".
"You could do a list?" Damon suggested, and something in Kris' chest fluttered. Call him control freak, but lists just made a lot of life affairs significantly easier; it was nice to have someone understand his need for literally listing things down and breaking them down into sections and paragraphs.
"Alright, to start off... his relationship status. I wouldn't go for a taken man."
"Understandable," Damon nodded with all seriousness "I wouldn't either. I suggest it shouldn't even be a point one, it goes into the preparations subsection."
"Yes, exactly!"
Their supposedly quick lunch break has turned into a brainstorm session: the milestones tier list, the dates ideas, the rules. What is the best time for the first kiss? Is "no sex on the first date" rule still applicable? Which date should come first- cooking together or going to the concert?
Kris could've never thought that it could be this much fun, pretending to make a list to win a hypothetical boyfriend, but Damon played along so easily and with such eagerness, and the dates ideas which he suggested were genuinely good- actually, something that Kris would love to try out himself.
"...Wait, and don't forget: check where he is from and double-check if there are sensitive topics you shouldn't talk about," Kris stated, barely maintaining a straight face. Damon's lips quivered with supressed laughter too.
"Another one into the preparations subsection I assume? Someone wants to date international?"
Oh. Right.
Because the reason they were even discussing all that was Bojan. Bojan and his international brother-or-something-more. Because Bojan's problem was real, and Kris' was hypothetical.
It was a very rational explanation, and it made that sudden heat which flooded Kris' face at Damon's words very irrational.
"Do you want to go to the movies tonight?" Damon suddenly asked, making Kris snap out of his stupor "Say, like on a hypothetical date?"
"Hypothetical date?" Kris blinked in confusion, but unexpected excitement bubbled in his gut.
"Exactly. You and I are well past the preparations subsection. Section one too. I'd say we are at... section two part three- so, movies."
Oh, that's what it was. Some friendly fun. After all, they had to do something with these dates ideas which they've come up with.
"Well, yes. I'd like that. Very much," he nodded and couldn't help adding "Hypothetically."
Damon smiled.
"Hypothetically."
**
Just as always, Kris and Bojan managed to reach the compromise: Bojan cleaned his room and invited Kris to check it out, and Kris said "good job" and pretended he didn't notice that pile of dirty clothes shoved under his bed. After his hypothetical date with Damon, he was not in the mood for quarelling.
It was the nicest hypothetically fake friendly date he's had in many years, followed by a very nice dinner after which Damon drove him home. They exchanged handshakes and a hug, and Damon left, leaving Kris all happy and content. And at dinner they decided to definetely do another hypothetical date in the nearest future, which was also left Kris in quite a joyful anticipation.
At the same evening Bojan finally deigned to arise from his lair, draped in a blanket like a greekman in a toga. He, an absolute attention seeker, could not stay on his own for too long; even the worst hangover could never keep him away from the world, the gossip, the action. Tonight he's chosen to circle around the kitchen, not helping with the cooking, but, in his own words, providing emotional support (even though no one has ever needed emotional support over dicing onions).
"Do you think I'm getting old? I think I'm getting old- I have these lines near my eyes, and more of my hair is grey now," Bojan studied his reflection in a steel pan with a pout "Soon enough I'll be leaving trails of sand after each step. The years go up, and I go down... closer and closer to six feet under."
"A little inconsiderate today, aren't we?" Nace laughed out, and Bojan almost dropped the pan, eyes wide with realisation.
"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean..."
"Nah, it's fine, just- give me that pan please, I need it- just don't call yourself old. If you are old, I'm basically a fossil."
"Thirty years old is not a fossil! Thirty is actually the new twenty," Bojan said heatedly. Suddenly his brows furrowed, and Kris rolled his eyes, sensing what's about to come "Also- while we are talking age... do you think five year difference is too much? For a couple?"
"It depends," Nace hummed "If they are twelve and seventeen? Definetely too much. If they are fifty and fifty-five? Practically the same thing."
"What about, like, twenty-five and thirty?" Bojan chewed on his bottom lip "Hypothetically speaking."
What about twenty-three and thirty-one? has suddenly flashed by in Kris' head.
You know. Hypothetically.