ONE WEEK BEFORE EUROVISION 2026 — VIENNA.

The adjustment week was supposed to help everyone relax before rehearsals.

Instead, it somehow turned into Eurovision contestants collectively terrorizing Vienna.

Tonight’s victim?

Prater Dome.

More specifically: Eurovision Night.

The entire club is packed with delegations, fans, producers, dancers, and people screaming every lyric to iconic entries like their lives depend on it.

“Euphoria” comes on and the crowd loses its mind instantly.

Akylas is already standing on the booth seats singing into Dara’s phone camera while Alis nearly falls over laughing beside him. Antigoni keeps rating everyone’s dancing like she’s on a jury panel.

Your booth sits along the upper level overlooking the massive main dance floor below, surrounded by other Eurovision groups doing exactly the same thing.

Lights flashing everywhere. Bass shaking the seats. Somebody from another delegation waving a flag for absolutely no reason.

Complete chaos.

You’re leaning against the side of the booth watching the crowd below when someone drops into the seat beside you.

“Okay, serious question.”

You turn.

Aidan Cassar.

Malta’s representative.

“Bella.”

He points down toward the dance floor where two contestants are aggressively performing “Fuego” like it’s a national emergency.

“Do people actually know choreography to these songs beforehand or is this instinct?”

You laugh immediately.

“It’s Eurovision. Nobody here is normal.”

“Good. I was worried I missed training.”

Another song starts—“Zitti e buoni.”

The entire club somehow gets louder.

Aidan leans forward against the table, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is insane.”

“You say that like you aren’t here willingly.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely part of the problem.”

And weirdly, talking to him feels easy almost immediately.

Not intense. Not awkward.

Just two artists hiding from the overstimulation together while occasionally getting distracted by whatever’s happening below.

At one point, Akylas spots you both from the dance floor and points dramatically upward.

“AIDAN!”

A beat.

“DO THE CHANEL DANCE!”

Aidan immediately yells back, “I’D RATHER REPRESENT SAN MARINO.”

Your whole booth bursts out laughing.

Hours pass like that.

Talking between songs. Making fun of chaotic performances downstairs. Rating Eurovision winners like sports commentators.

At some point “Fairytale” starts playing and literally the entire club sings the violin part out loud.

Aidan stares at the crowd for a second.

“This might be the weirdest environment I’ve ever been in.”

“You’re literally representing Malta at Eurovision.”

“Exactly. And somehow this is still weirder.”

By the end of the night, your voice hurts from laughing and yelling over music.

When everyone finally starts leaving the booth to head out, Aidan grabs his jacket and looks over at you.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Before you can answer, Antigoni immediately cuts in from behind you:

“Oh my God you two already have a routine.”

Aidan sighs dramatically.

“I’m never speaking again.”