You know, you do a lot of bad when you're in pain.

Joost, in the midst of living without his parents, had multiple flings. One resulted in a child. A baby. A baby that fell in his arms one summers eve, with a call, a retrieve from his hometown, and a large set of panic.

But it was okay. I was his now. Had been since I was born. He was just kicked off of Eurovision, for some bullshit reason. You were in the little buggie attached to his bike because, well, he couldn't drive. That's how you usually get around, your dad's bike. He just received you from his friends, the person you'd been staying with while he was away. You could see he wanted to cry, and sob, but he held it back.

For you.