TWO DUTCHIES KISSING ??

A SUPPOSED FIRST MEETING WITH 'JOOST KLEIN'

NIGHT 1

Was that Joost?? You take your glasses off your head and put them over your eyes, focusing on the small beige blob running toward you. "You're popular!! You're that one music artist!! You're, uh-"

"You're Joost!!" You interrupt, out of pure shock.

The two of you stood staring at each other. You could see a huge smile on his face.

"We should get a photo together!" He said, with his accent shining through. A genuine smile was on his face and wow–you never noticed it before, but he was really attractive up close. His eyes beaming, his eye color beaming, and the slight hint of rouge on his cheeks beaming, he was excited. "What do you say?"

You could never say no to that– it's fucking Joost Klein! You nod excitedly, not finding the words to say. You were pretty extroverted, but you were especially introverted seeing a Frisian guy in baggy jeans in front of you. And as you nodded, he immediately ran up to you and pulled you in by the waist; not in a couple, romance-like way, he was just pulling you in, but even though it wasn't in the couple way, this sparked so many running thoughts and immediately made you red as well.

As Joost handed his phone to a random security guard, everything finally clicked in your head. Wait, this is Joost Klein, my favorite music artist, and he knows me?? A flash and a camera sound later, Joost is chuckling to himself, his cheeks still tinted with a slight red. Was he just excited to meet another musician? But, you're less popular than him, how does he know you? So many thoughts running through your head, then -

"Do you support my campaign for Eurovision?"

"Huh??" You stammer, confused, not over the question, but after spacing out that your favorite musician, a decently - no, extremely attractive man - knows you, and is immediately affectionate? Maybe I'm overthinking it.

"Do you support me representing the Netherlands in Eurovision?" He said, winking while pulling up Instagram on his phone. He's immediately posting on his story, the photo of us. You don't answer on accident, staring at his phone, seeing what he types– VOTE JOOST KLEIN FOR EUROVISION 2024 (ง'̀-'́)ง.

He nudges you, and you look up at his face, and he cocks one of his eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, I do support you!! Of course!!" And his smiles, not a bemused smile you make at strangers who embarrass themselves, but at a true longtime friend; a person who you were not with him, but someone you wished to be. But this was a chance encounter, there was no way he found you to be cool enough to be friends with THE Joost Klein. And as you keep overthinking, he types on his phone keyboard.

You watch as he types up a little message about you endorsing his campaign and tags you–wait, he knows your Instagram? He posts it, you get the notification, you open your messages and a sudden worry hits your stomach when you click on his profile, and you see a blue Follow back. He followed you and YOU DIDN'T FOLLOW BACK?

He notices you follow him back, still standing on that venue floor. Although the time between now and meeting him had only been 5 or so minutes, it had felt infinitely longer and even more colorful between when you first heard Friesenjung and when you first met him. Did he make the time slow down?

"I'm so sorry!!" You sputter out after he notices that only now, did you follow him back. He follows 300 people, and you're one of them?? "I didn't realize I wasn't following you back, I'm so sorry, you're so cool and I thought I originally followed you, I never realized, I'm sorry-"

And while you're spitting out excuses, looking pathetic, a firm hand was put on your shoulder. He looks at you with–pity? Admiration? Something romantic or something negative? Does he see you as a child? "You're fine, don't worry," he says, accent strong as ever. "Here, now I can send you this since you followed me back."

Thoughts spin through your head, you can't tell if this is rejection or an embrace of his personality, was he going to send something ridiculous or insult me? The phone dings and you feel the now very clear vibration.

⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝ . Thanks Joost.

"Oh, I didn't even ask you! Fuck!" He says, looking the furthest thing away from frustration and stress. He's still red and there's some sweat, but for a November night in Northern Europe, it's decently warm in the venue. "Are you coming tomorrow night?"

And so, your heart drops again. You thought, that if you stayed late today, you might be able to get one "hello" and a photo with him, but he's being buddy-buddy with you? You never planned on getting a ticket for tomorrow night, you didn't want to hog up a ticket for an artist you thought wouldn't even care for you. You swallow your pride; "No, I couldn't find tickets," you lie, straight out of your ass. "I wish I could though!" You give a nervous smile, which he picks up on.

"Hey, I have space in the back–you can stay with us!! I'm sure everyone there knows you–no, everyone there knows you!" He beams, and a sigh of relief comes out of your mouth before it hits you. He's inviting me to the back?? You're worried you come off as a groupie, or a person trying to be friends with him for fame, but, wait, everyone there knows me? What does that mean?

"Everyone there knows me?"

"Of course!"

You stand there, nervously, 18:23, doors opening in 7 minutes. He would have to go in a minute, so no crazed fan would attack him (which, comically happened to you). You're still standing, 15 seconds later, without an answer, either entranced by his bright blue eyes or his nearly bleach blonde yet natural color hair, the pure beauty of his voice, or the kindness of his words. It sure is awkward–just not to you, the person falling in love as you stare at him.

"Okay, listen, I gotta go," he starts, sending your brain into a frenzy and bringing you back into reality, "but you have my Instagr-"

"I'll sit in the back with you!!! If I'm not a burden to you guys!!" You spit out, nervous and all quick. You didn't realize he was serious with the offer if he was insisting on you messaging him.

And he smiles again, the same genuine smile you'd give to a good friend or a lover, not the one he ever gives in his TikToks or Instagram photos or even his fans on stage, a smile you've never seen from him before, but a smile you would never forget. "Perfect!" He makes a phone motion with his hand, and mouths call me later as he walks backward and nearly bumps into someone–his nerdy and probably awkward confidence making him seem like the coolest person in the whole of Amsterdam right now, no, the whole of Europe.

And, he runs back, just to flick you in the nose, a joking interaction but what a person deprived of any sort of affection and filled with anxiety needed, and says, "You might want to put that out!", pointing to my cigarette that's just the butt. He nearly falls running back, but you stand watching, purple hearts in your eyes.

You should probably put the cigarette out.