1dvision

[1dvision]

18 || Everything At Once

The arena thrummed like a living thing.

Underneath Rylees feet, the stage pulsed with LED fire and the sound of a thousand moving parts. Above her, rigging lights cast shifting shadows. And behind the curtain, just out of view from the screaming crowd and the world watching at home, she stood clutching a mic that suddenly felt too small for her hand.

This was it.

Semi-final night.

She was not alone, but it sure as hell felt like it. Crew brushed past, earpieces crackling, producers speaking in a strange language of hand signals and urgency. Everyone was moving. Everything was loud. The girl wasn’t sure if her heart was racing from excitement or fear.

Then, a hand gently bumped hers.

She didn't even have to look to know who it was.

Kyle.

Norway.

Still in full outfit — messy, glitter-streaked eyeliner, a jacket made of silver tinsel, and that same nervous grin that somehow made your brain quiet.

"You okay?" he asked, voice barely audible over the thrum of the crowd.

She nodded. "Ask me again in twelve minutes”

He smiled, but his hand lingered at her elbow for a second longer than necessary. Just enough to steady her. Just enough to say I'm here.

Rylees name was called over the in-ear monitor.

It was time.

The next moments blurred. The Irish girl stepped out into the lights, into the heat of the crowd, into the roar that swallowed your nerves whole and turned them into something electric. The music hit. She opened her mouth, and muscle memory took over. The lyrics flew out like they belonged in the air.

She didn't even remember breathing until it was over.

The crowd stood. She blinked against the floodlights and bowed. Not because it was planned, but because it felt right. Then she was offstage, body buzzing, lungs burning, and someone was hugging her, yelling you did it into her shoulder.

And then — Kyle.

He hadn't gone on yet. But he was waiting just past the wings, eyes wide.

"You—" he started, breathless. "You just levelled the whole stage."

She laughed, still dizzy. "You're up next."

He didn't say anything. Just pulled her into a brief hug, one hand thumping twice against her back like a heartbeat.

"I'll see you on the other side."

And then he was gone, swallowed by the dark as he stepped out into the light.

Hours later — or maybe minutes, or days — she was in the green room.

Everyone wore the same expression: a mask of exhausted joy and utter dread. The hosts were reading names. The postcards were playing. Cameras zoomed in too close. The scoreboard loomed above like some mythic god.

Her and Kyle sat beside each other thr velvet couch with their counties, breath shallow. Rylee hadn't spoken much. There wasn't much to say.

"First country going through to the Grand Final is..."

Her own heart beat too loud to hear the name.

It wasn't her

Not yet.

Another name. A cheer from across the room.

Then another. And another.

Seven countries were through.

Only three spots left.

She couldn't sit still. Her hand fidgeted in her lap — until Kyle looked over. Rylee felt his eyes so she looked over at him

"Breathe," he mouthed. Soft. Quiet.

She tried.

The next name was called, it was his.

Norway.

The room erupted.

Kyle froze for half a second in disbelief. And then he stood, dazed, clapping wildly, but not before turning to her, eyes wide, full of something that didn't have a word yet.

Rylee was still on the couch. Still waiting.

Two spots left.

Her stomach twisted into knots.

And then — Ireland.

Her name.

Her face.

Her voice.

She didn't even remember standing up. The crowd was screaming. The camera swung toward her. And for one wild second, the world slowed.

She had done it.

She was going to the Grand Final.

Kyle caught her before the producers could.

The Norwegian threw his arms around her in a tight, giddy hug, spinning her in a half circle that made her shoes slip on the carpet.

"We did it," he shouted against her ear. "We actually— we did it!"

The girl laughed, giddy and breathless, grabbing onto his jacket to stay upright.

There were still interviews. Press. Pictures. More shows.

But for this moment, they weren’t just Ireland and Norway. They were two kids who'd sung their hearts out and made it through the fire.

Together.

Everything else could wait.

[1dvision]

17 || The Calm Before

The hotel room buzzed with a low, tired energy: not from noise, but from nerves.

Final rehearsal was done. Everything that could've gone wrong, didn't.

For once.

Rylees staging had hit. Vocals locked in. Hair? Slightly questionable, but passable. And now there was nothing to do but wait.

She was still half in costume, the shimmer of her top catching the lamplight. Her feet ached from the stage heels still kicked off by the door. And across from her — sitting cross-legged on the floor like this was the most normal thing in the world — was Kyle.

Norway's chaotic sweetheart. And her accidental emotional support system for the past two weeks.

He was holding a tiny bottle of fizzy rosé he'd smuggled from someone's green room tray. It had a bow on it.

"I know it's not fancy," he said, offering it like it was a peace offering. "But we survived. That deserves... something."

The girl laughed. Not because it was funny, but because her body didn't know what else to do with the nerves fizzing just under her skin.

"We haven't even performed yet."

He opened the bottle anyway with a low pop. "Exactly. Let's celebrate the last few minutes before chaos kicks in."

She took the glass he poured and sat beside him on the floor, leaning her head back against the hotel bed. The room smelled faintly like hairspray, leftover pizza, and nerves. So many nerves.

"Do you feel ready?" he asked.

The girl hesitated. "I feel... like I've done everything I can. Now I just have to not throw up."

Kyle nodded solemnly. "Same. Though I will absolutely cry if I mess up the falsetto."

Rylee glanced at him. "You won't. You never do."

He smiled a little at that. Quietly. Gratefully.

Then "You know... I was watching your run-through. You looked like you belonged up there. Like you were already home."

That caught her off guard. Heat crept up her neck — not quite blush, but something close.

"You say stuff like that just to mess with my head before bed, don't you?"

He chuckled. "No. I say it because it's true. You walked out there like you knew this stage was yours. And it was."

She looked down at her half-full glass. The compliment settled somewhere deep.

The room went still again, that peaceful kind of silence that only really happens between two people who have been through the same storm, even if from different angles.

Kyle pulled out his phone and snapped a selfie of the two of you. No filter. Just tired eyes and glitter-smudged skin.

He showed it to you. "One for the archives. Chaos, pre-finals."

Rylee grinned. "We'll look back on this and cringe."

"We'll look back on this and remember."

She clinked her glass against his, the moment suspended like the last breath before a leap.

Tomorrow, the cameras would roll. The audience would scream. The lights would go up.

But for now, for this quiet heartbeat of a night, it was just the two of them.

Ready. Brave. Nervous.

And not alone.

[1dvision]

16 || Press Day Under The Sporlight

Rylee was in full interview mode, dressed in her chosen final look, hair sleek, voice on point, when her PR-appointed handler slipped into her ear: "Kyle's outside, wants a quick word."

She stepped out into the corridor, passing mirrors that doubled her image and cameras that doubled herr heartbeat. Kyle was leaning against the wall, coffee cup in one hand, phone in the other.

He smiled when he saw the girl. "Morning, superstar."

"Morning, Nordicaffogato." She teased, trying to sound confident. The press crew in close proximity made the nickname tougher to spit out than she had thought.

He laughed. "Need someone to promise today's first question isn't about us?" He winked.

She shrugged, exhaling slowly. "Let's say a distraction-free day would be nice."

He offered you the coffee he'd bought. "Fuel."

Rylee took it, fingers brushing — electric, even through fabric.

Scene One: The Turquoise Carpet Interviews

Reporters lined both sides of the turquoise carpet. Rylee answered the same dozen questions:

"How are you feeling today?"

"Excited and focused."

"How do you handle the pressure?"

"One step at a time."

"Your chemistry with Kyle..."

She paused, carefully. "We're great friends and very supportive colleagues."

Kyle caught her eye from across the carpet, arms raised in an exaggerated cheerleading move, just for her.

She smiled, and something inside her relaxed.

Scene Two: The Group Press Call

All Eurovision contestants sat in a row for the official press call. Cameras swiveled, lights glowed, and the host popped the question:

Host: "We can't ignore the buzz. You two—Kyle and Rylee, you've got fans shipping you faster than the speed of sound. Can you tell us about this dynamic?"

Kyle leaned forward. "We're partners in performance, there's real respect, real friendship, and a shared passion for music."

He passed her a glance, half-focus, half-soft. Rylee picked it up.

"It's the bond you build in the chaos. We push each other creatively, we cheer each other on... and sometimes that looks like chemistry. But our focus is on the music tonight."

The crowd murmured. A few flashbulbs fired. They both sat back—faced the blinding lights and kept their expressions calm, contained, respectful.

Scene Three: Post-Press Corridor

After the press call, the corridor emptied fast. Rylee and Kyle were alone, save the echo of distant chatter and the faint hum of PA announcements.

He stretched out his hands, palms up. "Whew. How do you feel?"

She sipped the coffee, dawdled just a bit on purpose. "Like I didn't trip over my words or mention your name more than necessary."

He laughed softly. "That's a success."

The Irish met his eyes. There it was again: that hint beneath the surface.

"Thank you," she said, sincerely. "For the live streams. For the support. For... not letting it get weird."

Kyle stepped closer. "Hey, solidarity. And look — we did it. We controlled the narrative." He gestured lightly between the two of you. "Now let's go do it on stage."

She nodded. "Together? For real?"

The Norwegian offered his hand. "Together."

She took it, right there in the press-day calm. A handshake: simple, symbolic, heavy with promises neither of them would confess yet.

And as the corridor doors opened toward the stage area, Rylee realized that whatever happened tonight — spotlight buzz or chart jumps — she had something real. Something grounded beneath the chaos.

Something lasting.

[1dvision]

15 || Between Floors

It was late.

Past the post-rehearsal adrenaline crash, past the texts from your delegation group chat, past the point where Rylee should've been asleep.

She stepped into the hotel hallway, hoodie up, socks in hotel slippers, criminal fashion, really, just heading for the vending machine.

Then the elevator dinged.

And Kyle walked out.

Also hoodie-clad, hair still wet from a shower, phone in hand and eyes slightly wide when they met yours.

"Oh," he said, stopping short.

"Oh," she echoed, caught.

"Vending machine?"

The girl held up a crumpled ten. "Chocolate."

He grinned. "You've got priorities."

He didn't ask to join her, just fell into step beside her like it was normal. Like it wasn't 1:24 a.m. and they hadn't just been on a livestream pretending to be oblivious to the way the comments section was frothing at the mouth.

"People are still tagging us," he said, glancing at his screen. "One person's made a 3-minute edit already. With violin music."

"Send it."

He did.

They both stood in front of the vending machine, blue LED lighting making Rylee look a little alien, a little sleep-deprived, a lot unsure of what this moment was supposed to be.

Kyle broke the silence first.

"You're good, you know."

The ginger blinked. "At what?"

He nudged her arm with his. "This. All of it. Handling the pressure. The attention. Not freaking out mid-performance."

She shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I freak out privately."

He smiled like he already knew that.

"You've got this weird calm energy," he continued. "Like you're grounded. It's... comforting."

Rylee didn't know what to say to that, so she let the vending machine speak for her: a loud thunk as a chocolate bar dropped.

She bent to grab it, heart slightly too fast for no reason at all.

When she straightened, Kyle was looking at you. Not the camera-version of you, not the live-stream-self, but the 1:24 a.m., sleepy-eyed, hoodie-wearing version.

Real.

"You grounded me," the Norwegian said softly, almost like he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

The girl didn't break the gaze this time. Just nodded. "You do that for me too."

Another silence.

But it felt less empty now.

"Do you want to—" he started, then stopped.

She raised an eyebrow.

He shook his head, smiling. "Never mind. Go eat your chocolate, Eurovision Ireland."

Rylee smirked. "Night, Norway."

She didn't look back as you walked down the hall. But she didn't need to, she could feel his smile lingering behind her like stage lights long after the curtain falls.

[1dvision]

14 || Go Live Or Go Home

It started with a notification.

@kyle.alessandro has gone live on Instagram.

And then:

@kyle.alessandro added you to their live.

Rylee barely had time to fix her hair before the screen split in two. Kyle's face popped up, golden-hour lighting, dimples flashing, that soft Norwegian lilt already laughing.

"Look who finally showed up!" he said, beaming. "I was gonna start doing dramatic readings of the YouTube comments without you."

She rolled her eyes. "You mean the unhinged essays about how we made eye contact for 0.5 seconds and that clearly means we're soulmates?"

Kyle gasped, mock-offended. "How dare you disrespect the lore."

People flooded in. The comments were chaos.

@eurofanatic

THEY'RE TOGETHER. I DON'T CARE WHAT THEY SAY.

@greeneyedstan

This isn't a livestream. This is a soft launch.

@nordicsimp

Kyle you're glowing. You in love or just lit really well?

Kyle read that one out loud, cackled, then turned to l the girl. "Answer the people. Am I glowing? Be honest."

She blinked. "You look like you walked out of a Calvin Klein ad in a dreamscape."

He dramatically clutched his chest. "So you are the unhinged comment section."

"Guilty."

They both grinned.

There was a pause, not awkward, but charged. One of those little silences where everything unsaid sits warm between them, humming like stage lights.

Then the girl pivoted. "Okay, but can we talk about the actual performance? You hit that bridge like it owed you money."

Kyle shrugged, eyes twinkling. "We were in our ✨ feelings ✨."

"That's what you call fully breaking my soul in front of millions?"

"Art."

The chat lost it.

@eurowitch

Art??? That was a relationship soft launch + public breakup + wedding vows

@irelandrules

Do a duet again or I will CRY

@kylebaby

Blink twice if you're dating

Kyle blinked five times rapidly.

The ginger groaned. "Stop—"

"You said blink twice if we're dating," he said. "I blinked five. That's negative three."

"You're a menace."

"I'm Norwegian," he corrected, sipping his tea like a villain.

Another comment flashed.

@watchingwithwine

Can someone please tell them they're in love already

They both saw it.

They both ignored it.

Well...they tried.

"I think people are really rooting for us," Kyle said after a beat, voice suddenly gentler.

The Irish glanced at him, caught off guard by the softness.

"Maybe they just like a good duet," you offered.

"Maybe." He smiled again — quiet this time. "Or maybe they just know chemistry when they see it."

She didn't reply right away.

The comments blurred.

So did the line between performance and whatever this was.

And the live ended, not with a bang, but a long, lingering wave goodbye and a look that neither of them could quite explain.

[1dvision]

13 || 3..2..1..Dropped

It hit YouTube at midnight sharp. Just like planned.

But the internet? The internet was not prepared.

Within thirty minutes, "Not Pretending (Acoustic Visual)" had:

• Crashed a fan-run subreddit,

• Sent five reaction YouTubers into full-blown emotional breakdowns,

• And ignited a war on Twitter between "ship it" girlies and "they're just friends" truther stans.

And Rylee? She was on her couch, hoodie up, bowl of popcorn untouched in her lap, watching the views jump like heartbeats.

Kyle was live texting.

Ky🫶🏻

why is there already a 12-minute video called "20 reasons they're in love and lying about it"???

Rylee☀️

why does it have timestamps

Ky🫶🏻

WHY AM I BITING MY LIP IN SLOW-MO WHO EDITED THAT

Rylee☀️

i blame the gays

Ky🫶🏻

as you should.

Rylee refreshed the video. 87K views. 3K comments.She scrolled for a second before slamming her phone face-down. The comment section was an emotional minefield.

@verablue:

are they acting or am i projecting idk anymore

@nordicrosebud:

this feels like watching something I shouldn't be seeing. too intimate. too... much.

@euromeltdown:

this just cured my situationship trauma and gave me a new one, thank you

Somewhere between 1:12 and 1:17, the girl realised that her face was trending.

#NotPretending trended globally.

#TheyreSoReal trended in Norway, Ireland, and Chile.

And then Kyle sent her a TikTok.

It was them both, the mirror room scene, soundtracked by Lana Del Rey's "Love". The caption read:

"When they said 'we're not in love,' but you saw the way they looked at each other."

She held her breath for a beat too long.

Kyle texted again.

Ky🫶🏻

so... live tomorrow to "casually talk about it" and pretend we're chill?

Rylee☀️

definitely.

totally chill.

ice cold.

The ginger stared at the screen.

Totally. Chill.

Then she closed the app and went to bed with her heart kicking like a drumline.

[1dvision]

12 || Lights, Camera, Pretend We’re Not Falling

The video concept was pitched in two words:

"Intimate contrast."

Nobody explained what that meant, but everyone pretended they got it.

Rylee arrived on set just before dawn: a cavernous warehouse in Switzerland, decked out in warm amber spotlights and an entire shipping container's worth of fog machines. The director wore black-on-black and said things like "capture tension, not affection."

Kyle was already there, dressed in an oversized sweater and rings that caught every glint of light. He smiled when he saw you: small, real.

"You look like heartbreak," she teased.

He raised an eyebrow. "And you look like the reason for it."

Touché.

🎬 Scene One: The Distance

They’re back to back. Not touching. Not talking. Just breathing in the same rhythm, with a foot of space and a thousand unsaid things between them.

The camera spins in slow orbit.

🎶

"Tell me we never meant it,

Say we were only a spark

But your voice in my silence

Still glows in the dark..."

🎶

On the last note, she turns but he doesn't. The director yells "Cut!" but keeps rolling.

She keeps her hand hovering in the air for half a second too long.

🎬 Scene Two: The Mirror Room

A wall of mirrors. Two versions of Rylee. Two versions of Kyle. None of them quite aligned.

The two stand face to face, separated only by reflections. She reaches out. He mirrors her.

It's choreography,sure, but their fingers almost touch. And that crackle? Not staged.

🎶

*"We're not in love,

We're just not pretending anymore..."

🎶

The playback stops.

The silence feels like an inhale no one wants to release.

Someone claps. They both jump a little.

🎬 Scene Three: The Final Shot

No fog. No set. Just them in a white room. One handheld camera.

The director shrugs. "Do whatever feels real."

Rylee sits on the floor, knees bent. Kyle sits across from her, same posture. They both sing the last chorus in one take, unplugged, no playback, just raw voices and proximity.

🎶

"Maybe we'll burn, or maybe we'll fade

But tonight, we're the spark we were scared to name..."

🎶

When it's over, no one says anything.

She look at Kyle but he’s already looking at her.

Of course he is.

Later That Night — Your DMs

@kyle.alessandro

that didn't feel like pretending.

@ryleebyrne

I know.

@kyle.alessandro

should we talk about it?

@ryleebyrne

maybe after the final.

@kyle.alessandro

deal.

[1dvision]

11 || The Song We Weren’t Supposed To Write

It started as a joke.

A producer from the broadcast team, deep into espresso and sarcasm, tossed it into the air:

"You two should just do a duet, make the internet combust properly."

Kyle laughed. Rylee laughed. Someone else didn't. And by the next morning, your inbox had a file marked:

"DUET—DEMO (temp title: 'Midnight Between Us')."

The chorus was half-finished. The verses, raw and full of aching space. But it worked — god, it worked. And when Kyle sent a voice note singing harmony over the second verse, something shifted.

Rylee:

"Are we actually doing this?"

Kyle:

"I think we already are."

Three Days Later — Rehearsal Room, Glass Walls, City Lights

The air smelled like cables and nerves.

Kyle was at the piano, hoodie sleeves pushed up, his fingers moving gently over the keys. Rylee stood beside him, mic in hand, rereading the second chorus until the words felt more like memories than lyrics.

"Ready?" he asked, voice low.

"Always," she said, even though she wasn't

He started playing.

🎶

There's a midnight between us, a silence that sings

Two strangers with secrets and metaphor wings

We orbit, we flicker, too proud to ignite

But maybe our shadows belong to the night

🎶

Her voice wove into his on the final line, soft but certain. When the note landed, she looked up and Kyle was already looking at her.

Neither of them spoke for a second.

Then, just to shatter the tension, she muttered, "We're going to make so many teenagers cry."

Kyle smirked. "Good. Maybe one of them will write fanfic we actually approve of."

An Hour Later — Instagram Post

📸: A blurry black-and-white photo of two microphones tangled in their cords.

Caption:

Midnight Between Us — coming soon.

Just a song. Probably.

🇮🇪 x 🇳🇴 #Eurovision2025*

The comment section broke.

So did the notifications.

So did, possibly, Rylee's ability to keep pretending this was just for show

[1dvision]

10 || Stage Management Mayhem

"You're doing it," Siobhán said without looking up from her tablet.

Rylee was mid-bite of a croissant and almost choked. "Doing what?"

"The press junket. The 'Dynamic Duos' segment with Kyle. They're slotting you both between Switzerland's ballad and Latvia's techno drag queens."

The girl blinked. "That sounds fake."

She smiled sweetly. "So did your Insta Live until half of Europe turned it into a fan edit."

Rylee groaned.

One hour later, she was sitting in a velvet chair under studio lights, nervously tapping her shoe against the leg of the table. Kyle was beside you, legs crossed, phone in hand, wearing an absurdly chic navy cardigan like he was born in a Vogue feature.

"Just breathe," he whispered, leaning in. "They can smell fear."

"I hate you," she muttered.

"No you don't."

The interviewer sat down. Red heels, clipboard, permanent smirk. She was the kind who always asked the question everyone else was too polite to say out loud.

"So," she began, smiling like a shark in lipstick, "Ireland and Norway walk into a live stream... and the internet loses its mind. Did you two mean to break TikTok, or was that just a happy accident?"

Kyle laughed. Rylee froze.

Then, taking a breath, she said, "Honestly? It was meant to be a harmless chat. And then Kyle went full poet in the comments section of my soul."

The interviewer raised a brow. "Are you saying there's something poetic happening between you two?"

Kyle leaned forward, smooth as ever. "We're both artists. If something's poetic, it's because we understand each other's rhythm."

That was either the most platonic thing ever said...or the least.

The ginger gave him a look. He smirked. She turned back to the camera. "We're friends. We're just both disasters with decent microphones."

The interviewer pouted. "No Eurovision romance? You're crushing a lot of fan fiction right now."

She laughed. "They can keep writing it. We'll just keep being chaotic."

The segment wrapped. They stood up, nerves buzzing, and Kyle elbowed you gently.

"Handled like a pro," he said.

She grinned. "Handled like someone one iced coffee away from screaming."

As they walked off-set together, they heard the producer whisper behind them:

"God, just put them on a duet already."

[1dvision]

08 || Live Again? What Could Go Wrong?

Rylee wasn't planning to go live.

In fact, she was curled up in hotel sweats, hair half-dried, scrolling through Netflix without actually watching anything when her phone buzzed.

Kyle 💫:

go live w me

5 min

i'll send the invite

don't bail

She groaned but smiled. She'd made the mistake of saying, "We should do this again sometime," and clearly, Kyle took that as a verbal contract. The girl fixed her hoodie, wiped off the faint remnants of eye makeup, and cracked her knuckles.

Five minutes later, she were staring at a countdown:

Connecting... with @kyle.alsssandro

LIVE: 1.2k viewers and climbing

He popped on screen first — as usual, looking effortlessly put together in that way only Norwegians and anime protagonists could pull off. She followed a second later, and the chat exploded instantly.

Comments:

"They're backkkk 😭"

"Eurovision royalty ACTUALLY"

"The Irish x Norwegian energy is unmatchable"

"Kiss—"

"NO"

Kyle grinned. "Look who showed up! I was worried I'd have to FaceTime your PR manager to get permission."

"She'd hang up and block you," you shot back. "She's still recovering from your soft-launch video."

"Soft-launch?" He tilted his head, mock-innocent. "I just said I was grateful."

Rylee raised an eyebrow. "You added the blurry FaceTime shot."

He laughed, boyish and completely unbothered. "It was aesthetic."

The chat was losing its collective mind.

Comments:

"THEY'RE SO SELF-AWARE"

"Kyle's the chaos, [Your Name] is the damage control"

"I feel like I'm third-wheeling a friendship???"

The Irish shook her head. "Anyway, what are we doing here? You dragged me on live with no warning."

Kyle held up a whiteboard. "We're playing 'Who's More Likely To: Eurovision Edition.' I wrote down questions. Winner gets... bragging rights and my last Norwegian chocolate bar."

Rylee snorted. "This feels rigged."

It wasn't. It was worse. Over the next twenty minutes, Kyle exposed both of them.

"Who's more likely to trip on stage?"

Rylee: "Me."

Kyle: "Also you."

Comments:

"SHE TRIPPED AT SOUND CHECK WE SAW IT 😭"

"Who's more likely to ignore their press obligations?"

Kyle: "Me. I do it for the drama."

Rylee: "Siobhán's already typing."

By the time the final question came — "Who's more likely to win Eurovision?" — they both went quiet.

Then Kyle said, soft but sincere, "You've got something special, you know. Even if the jury doesn't see it, we do."

She blinked. "That was... unexpectedly heartfelt."

He shrugged. "Even chaos has depth."

The chat exploded again, but neither of them read it right away. For a second, the screen felt smaller. Calmer. Like it really was just the two of the

, despite the thousands watching.

Eventually, the ginger waved. "Alright, I'm logging off before Siobhán parachutes through my window."

Kyle blew a kiss to the camera. "See you soon, Ireland."

And just like that, the Live ended.

But the buzz didn't.

#EuroBesties was trending within the hour.

[1dvision]

09 || BREAKING: Are They Or Aren’t They?

By the time Rylee woke up the next morning, it was already too late.

Her phone was booming. Not buzzing — booming. Vibrations like seismic activity. She groaned, rolled over, and cracked one eye open to the avalanche of notifications.

The Irish Post

🟢 "Ireland's Sweetheart Goes Live with Eurovision's Nordic Heartthrob: Sparks or Strategy?"

Wiwibloggs

🟣 "Did Ireland & Norway Just Soft-Launch Their Friendship—or Something More?"

BuzzEur

🟡 "That Instagram Live Was NOT Just Platonic."

There were screenshots everywhere: one where Kyle looked at her like he was mid-romcom monologue, another where she was mid-laugh, eyes crinkled, completely unaware of her looming PR disaster.

And of course... the clip.

Kyle: "Even chaos has depth."

Rylee: "That was... unexpectedly heartfelt."

Over 12 million views. Multiple TikTok remixes. One slowed down with a Lana Del Rey song playing over it. Another with fake subtitles in Spanish. One particularly cursed version featured sparkles and dolphins.

The girl opened your her chat with her team. It was already unraveling.

Siobhán (Manager):

Please tell me you didn't give him the Wi-Fi password for this.

Mick (Publicist):

"Even chaos has depth"??? He's going to outsell Keats.

Lena (Stylist):

Girl. Not you having more chemistry in 20 minutes than most of Hollywood in two-hour films.

Rylee:

It wasn't a date. It was a game and a free therapy session.

Siobhán:

Say that louder, because RTÉ just called asking if they should "lean into the ship."

Mick:

Please. No one say "ship" out loud again. I'm still recovering from last year.

As Rylee scrolled through more headlines, her jaw actually dropped.

EuroVisionary Tonight

💥 "Ireland x Norway? Is This Year's Ballad War Actually a Love Story?"

Subheader: "From backstage besties to fan-favorite duo, the pair that keeps Europe guessing."

Someone even made a fake movie poster. "The Ballad and the Boy." A Photoshopped drama with her face and Kyle's, standing back-to-back over a burning scoreboard, tagline: "Only one can win... or can they?"

The girl flung your phone onto the bed, stared at the ceiling, and muttered, "I was on live for 25 minutes."

The knock on her hotel door was soft but firm. She dragged herself to open it.

Kyle stood there, iced coffee in each hand and sunglasses perched on his nose. He handed one over without a word.

Then he said, "So... I think we broke Europe?"

The Irish girl took a sip, stared at him, and said flatly, "You owe me chocolate."

[1dvision]

07 || What Did He post?

Rylee was mid-toast. Like, actual toast — buttered, barely warm, and clenched between her teeth as she scrolled through her phone with one hand. Eurovision rehearsal was in three hours, and she hadn't even looked at her vocal warm-ups yet.

Then her notifications blew up.

TikTok: @kylefromnorway tagged you in a video.

She blinked. Kyle? She hadn't even spoken to him this morning. Curiosity piqued, she clicked.

The video opened to Kyle, sitting in some cozy little studio room — lights dim, hoodie on, curls slightly messy like he just woke up. His voice hummed softly over the video, not singing, just... narrating.

"One of the best parts about Eurovision? The people. You come here for music, but you leave with something else — someone who gets it. Someone who laughs at the same chaos and panics before the same press interviews."

Cue a cut: a short, candid video from the Instagram Live she did a few nights ago — the girl, laughing so hard she had to turn away from the screen. Kyle, grinning at her through the corner of the frame.

The TikTok ends with a quiet shot of his coffee cup and her blurry reflection on a FaceTime screen, captioned simply:

"This year's been different. Grateful."

#eurovision #norwaytoireland #chaosbonded

The girls jaw actually dropped.

Like, her toast hit the floor.

And then her phone rang.

SIOBHÁN

Incoming Call

Rylee considered ignoring it. She really did. But she

picked up.

"What the hell is this, a tribute video?" Siobhán demanded. "Do we need to release a statement? Are you two in a duo now? Are we rebranding? Tell me now."

Rylee pinched the bridge of your nose. "He's just being sweet. It's not a big deal."

"He soft-launched you without launching you!" she hissed. "That's worse! People are going to read into everything."

The Irish girl could already hear the chaos happening on Twitter. "It's not romantic," she insisted, scrolling the comments.

@eurovisionfan13: "this is so wholesome I'm crying???"

@scandipoptruths: "wait are they besties or soulmates"

@irelandinchaos: "I didn't expect this crossover but I support it with my whole chest"

Then the singer sighed. "It's fine. It's just friendship with flair."

Siobhán didn't sound convinced. "Keep it chill. No duets. No spontaneous acoustic sessions. And for the love of Riverdance, don't let him post anything from rehearsals. I don't want you trending unless you're winning."

As she hung up, another message popped up.

Kyle:

hey 😅 hope that wasn't too much lol

just felt like you deserved a little shoutout. been nice, y'know?

The ginger smiled. Not everything had to be fireworks and flirting. Sometimes, the best connections were the ones that made you feel seen — steady, real, and safe.

She typed back:

not too much at all

chaos bonded 4 life 💚

And she meant it.

[1dvision]

06 || Private Lines And Pixilated Smiles

Rylee heard her phone buzzed at 11:43 p.m.

Kyle 💫 is FaceTiming you.

She hesitated for half a second, long enough to remember Siobhán's "no more flirty nonsense" speech, before answering anyway.

Kyle's face appeared, slightly blurry, dark curls flopping across his forehead as he grinned.

"You look cozy," he said. "Are you in a hoodie or a blanket burrito?"

"Both," she replied, shifting her camera to show her nest of pillows. "It's been a day."

"I heard," he said, biting back a smile. "Did the Irish Eurovision overlords scold you?"

"Oh, completely. Siobhán thinks I'm about three seconds away from scandal. She's calling you 'the Norwegian distraction.'"

He threw his head back laughing. "Iconic. Can I put that on a T-shirt?"

The Irish giggled. "Only if I get royalties."

There was a pause, not awkward, just quiet. Soft.

"Hey," Kyle said gently, resting his chin on his hand. "I know there's a lot of noise. But I meant what I said on the Live. You're magic."

Her cheeks flushed. Curse her face and its total lack of chill.

"You say that like you're not a Eurovision heartthrob."

"I say that like I watched your semi-final performance five times today."

She covered her face. "Stop."

"No. Never. I'm officially your number one fan. Like, I've entered the delusional fan era."

The girl peeked at him through her fingers. "You're dangerously good at this."

"What? Compliments? Being obsessed with you? It's a natural gift."

She stared at him, stunned into silence for just a beat too long. Kyle blinked, cheeks turning faintly pink.

"I mean—obsessed with your voice. Obviously," he said quickly. "Your stage presence. Not, like... you. Unless..."

Rylee laughed so hard she had to mute herself for a second.

He rubbed his face. "I'm a disaster."

"You're adorable," she said softly, and instantly regretted it, not because it wasn't true, but because she felt it.

The silence this time was different. Warm. Buzzing.

"I should let you sleep," he murmured. "Big rehearsals tomorrow."

"Yeah. You too."

Neither of you hung up.

"Okay, on three," he said. "One... two..."

"...Three," she whispered. Still didn't hang up.

They both burst out laughing again.

Eventually, the screen went dark. But her smile didn't fade

Not for hours.

[1dvision]

05 || We’re Not Shipping You, Yet

The next morning, Siobhán cornered Rylee in the hotel corridor like a lioness in heels.

"Five minutes. My room. Now."

Rylee followed without protest, which, for her, was rare. But she had seen the screenshots, the threads, the fan art that somehow appeared overnight. The internet worked faster than her heartbeat during that Live.

The manager closed the door behind her and spun on her heel, arms crossed, expression sharp enough to cut diamonds.

"So," she said flatly, "you're dating Kyle Alessandro now?"

Rylees jaw dropped. "Wh—No! No, absolutely not!"

Siobhan hán raised an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me. Or, you know, everyone with Wi-Fi in Europe."

The younger sank onto the edge of the bed. "We're just talking. He's sweet. Funny. And yeah, maybe he flirts a bit but—"

"A bit?" she interrupted, opening her laptop and spinning it toward her. The paused screen showed Rylee mid-giggle, cheeks pink, while Kyle looked at her like she was his favorite song lyric.

"This was streamed to 40,000 people. And now you're a meme. And a ship. You have a couple name."

"...What is it?"

"'Ryle.'"

She winced. "It's terrible. But it's catchy."

Rylee laughed before she could stop yourself.

Siobhán did not laugh.

"Listen," she said, sitting across from her, voice softer now.

"I'm not saying you can't be friends with him. But we're here for one thing: to win. Eurovision is a circus, and right now? You're accidentally becoming the clown and the trapeze act."

Rylee nodded slowly. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Keep it friendly. No more Lives. No more flirty banter. No sneaky posts from hotel balconies. And please stop blushing like a Victorian bride every time he looks at you."

She bit her tongue to keep from smiling. It didn't work.

Siobhán sighed. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because... he just texted me a TikTok of us edited to Taylor Swift's Enchanted."

The manager groaned into her hands.

Rylee got up and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll behave."

She was absolutely lying.

[1dvision]

04 || Just Between Us

Rylee was still grinning when the Live ended, the screen flicking back to m her home screen like nothing had just happened. Her cheeks still tingled. Bet heart was still playing jump rope.

And then...

ding

Instagram. Direct message. From Kyle Alessandro.

She stared at the notification for a full five seconds before she dared to open it.

@kyle.alessandro

You handled that Live like a pro.

Bonus points for not running when I flirted in front of 40,000 people. 😏

The Irish bit her lip, already smiling. Before she could overthink it, she tapped out a reply.

@ryleebyrne

Was that flirting? I thought you were just allergic to basic greetings.

@kyle.alessandro

Touché.

But seriously... I meant what I said. It's good having you here. You're going to shake things up and not just musically.

Oh. Oh.

Rylee stared at her screen. Was that just encouragement? Or was there something else tucked between the lines?

She sent a cautious response

@ryleebyrbe

Thanks. Coming from you, that actually means a lot.

You've done this before, love performances and stuff. I'm still trying to figure it all out.

Also, sorry if I made you look bad by stealing the spotlight with my accidental blushing skills.

@kyle.alessandro

Trust me, you didn't make me look bad.

If anything, you made me look better 😉

Team Norway x Ireland, maybe?

The ginger laughed out loud, a real one this time, before dropping her phone on her bed and flopping back against the pillow.

Somewhere out there, the Eurovision fandom was probably dissecting every second of that Live. But here, in her inbox, was Kyle. Not the stage persona. Just... him.

She didn't mean to check her phone again. Not really. But after that Instagram Live with Kyle and the way he messaged her after, all casual-flirty and definitely not harmless

well...

It became impossible not to.

Her mentions were on fire.

@EurovisionLeaks:

🚨 Kyle Alessandro and Rylee Byrne on IG Live tonight 👀👀 The chemistry? IMMACULATE. #EuroVision2025 #KyleAndRylee #Kylee #Ryle

@Gays4Eurovision:

THE WAY JJ CHOKED ON HIS DRINK WHEN SHE BLUSHED 😭😭😭

I'm not saying soulmates but I'm also not not saying it.

@EurovisionUpdates:

The gay tension between Kyle and Rylee tonight is the kind of representation we deserve. 🌈✨

Rylee was half-laughing, half-mortified when her phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from your PR manager, Siobhán.

Since she was "professional now", Niall said that he wasn't good enough to be her manager so he got someone hired.

Siobhán:

We need to talk.

Don't say anything else publicly.

For the love of God, DO NOT go Live again tonight.

The singer winced. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she tried to think of a way to tell her that, technically, she didn't do anything. She just... existed while Kyle flirted like a sparkly Eurovision angel.

Before she could reply, her screen lit up again — another DM.

@kyle.alessandro

You seeing this chaos? 😅

Should we sell matching "Made You Blush" shirts at the final?

The female snorted and covered her face with her hands. This man. This glitter-wearing, falsetto-belting, chaos-spawning man.

@ryleebyrne

Only if we split the profit 70/30 in my favor.

I did all the blushing work.

@kyle.alessandro

Deal.

You were kinda radiant, not gonna lie.

...Do you wanna FaceTime later?

No fans, no stage. Just us.

She stopped breathing for a second.

Rylee had gone from being Ireland's underdog entry... to having Kyle Alessandro asking to FaceTime her. Privately.

And somewhere, deep down, past the nerves, past the panic, past Siobhán probably Googling "how to do damage control when your artist is shippable", the girl  were glowing.

Not stage lights.

Not spotlight.

Something softer.

Something... real.

And maybe this wasn't just a song contest.

Maybe it was the beginning of something else.

[1dvision]

03 || Going Live

Rylee had sweaty hands. Not just a nervous sweaty, more like a:

Am-I-Really-About-To-Do-An-Instagram-Live-Infront-Of-Actual-People-Sweaty

She stared at the notification again

@johannesjjpietsch has invited you to join their Instagram live

It had popped up a minute ago, right as she was mid bite of a chicken toastie in your house, she nearly choked.

The girl had watched other artists go live before, but her? She'd never done one, not even a casual q&a and now JJ, THE JJ from Austria, angel voiced chaos goblin wanted to do one with her.

Her phone buzzed again

@johannesjjpietsch

Join if you want! No pressure!! It's just me talking to my dog right now 😭

Rylee laughed. Okay, fine. Before she could respond, another message popped up, this time a group chat.

EUROVISION BABES 😜

JJ named it that, of course. Inside were three names that the Irish girl recognised:

Sissal, Denmarks soulful indie-pop fairy

Miriana Conte, Maltas unapologetically glam powerhouse

Kyle Alessandro, Norways synth-pop golden boy with cheekbones that could cut glass

And then there was Rylee herself, new girl. She barely had time to title 'help I've never done this before' before JJ started the live.

JJ was already talking to his phone, his hair in loose curls, grinning like he'd just had three coffees too many.

"And now" he said dramatically "we have the Irish queen joining us! Give it up for Eurovision's freshest face"

"Hi...oh, wow!" You said blinking at the screen "I did not think this through"

Laughter erupted

"Don't worry" came a lilting Danish accent. Sissal.

She had warm brown eyes, freckles like stardust and a tea mug as big as her head. "None of us know what we're doing either"

"Speak for yourself!" Said Miriana, her voice smooth and velvet-rich.

She wore winged eyeliner that could probably pass Eurovision's pyrotechnic regulations. "I absolutely know what I am doing and I look hot doing it"

"I've been here for 0.3 seconds and I agree" Kyle chimed in

Rylee had seen clips of him performing, Norways sleep, synth-heavy banger has been everywhere but nothing prepared her for him in real time. He had a lazy smile, tousled dark hair and this calm presence that made the chaos around him seemed curated. Intentional.

He finally looked at the camera, at the Irish girl "finally, I've been looking to put a face to the voice behind the track"

Rylees breath caught slightly "likewise" she spoke, a smile tugging at her lips "and congrats on melting the internet last week by the way"

"Who, me?" He said innocently "I just showed up in leather pants and did my job"

JJ fake gagged "okay I'm kicking Kyle out, he's too smooth. Get out"

Kyle winked at the screen and JJ choked on his drink.  He sputtered into his matcha latte, waving a hand at the camera as if physically trying to swat the flirting out of the air

"Oh my GOD, Kyle" JJ wheezed "Did you practice that line or are you just naturally the human embodiment of a scandal?"

"I'm just saying hi," Kyle said, deadpan, sipping his water like it was champagne "Can't a guy greet a fellow finalist without being accused of seduction?"

"That wasn't a greeting, that was the Eurovision equivalent of a marriage proposal," Miriana said, curling a strand of hair around her finger. "Ireland blinked twice and blushed. I saw it. We all saw it."

Rylee covered her face with her hand, laughing. "You're all evil."

"Only on the weekends," Sissal chimed in with a grin. "And it's Friday somewhere."

Comments were flooding in now.

kyleland_stans: get a room omg

eurovisiontea: IRELAND IS BLUSHING I REPEAT

sissal_saves_me: can we talk about her accent tho 😭😭😭

miriana4queen: JJ choking was the highlight of my life

JJ finally recovered, wiping a tear from his eye. "Okay. Okay. I'm back. I survived the flirtation hurricane. Barely. Kyle, any more smooth lines and you're getting muted."

"Promise?" Kyle smirked.

"STOP," JJ shrieked.

Even Rylee was laughing now, fully relaxed, the nerves from earlier melted away in this pure, chaotic, glitter-filled nonsense.

The Irish leaned toward her phone. "I just want it on record that I was ambushed on this Live. No one warned me I'd be stepping into a Eurovision thirst trap."

Kyle raised a brow. "So you admit it's working?"

JJ screamed into a pillow.

Miriana applauded. "Ladies and gentlemen, and everyone in between, this has been the content we never knew we needed."

The Live rolled on for another ten minutes of spiralling nonsense, JJ trying to do a "serious" Q&A, Sissal playing half a song before getting distracted, and Rylee and Kyle trading tiny jabs that made the chat explode each time.

Eventually, JJ wrapped it up with his usual flair.

"Alright, Eurobabes, this was the most iconic disaster I've ever hosted. Thank you to Ireland for being brave, to Kyle for being a menace, and to everyone watching"

"Good luck, everyone," the ginger said with a smile. "Can't wait to see you all shine on stage."

Kyle gave one last smirk. "Especially you."

JJ threw his phone down like it burned him. "BYE."

The Live cut off with everyone laughing.

Rylee set her phone down, heart racing just a little faster than before.

Somewhere, someone had definitely screen-recorded that whole thing.

And somewhere else, Kyle Alessandro had probably just made a hundred thousand people ship them both.

But all she could think about was how unexpectedly fun it was and how, for the first time since this whole Eurovision whirlwind began, she didn't feel like the new girl anymore.

Rylee felt like she belonged.

[1dvision]

02 || New Messages

The nerves hadn't white settled in yet. Even after the official announcement, the interviews, the press photos: none of it felt fully real.

Rylee was actually representing Ireland at Eurovision and every time she thought about it, a low hum of disbelief pulsed beneath her skin like a second heartbeat.

She was still in her sweats, currently at home, hair tied up, half watching old Eurovision performances from YouTube when her phone buzzed.

Then it buzzed again.

@johannesjjpietsch

Hey hey, officially welcome to the madness 😅

Congrats on getting selected! 🇮🇪🔥

Rylee blinked at the message, JJ, Austrias representative. The one with perfect stage presence. He was already a fan favourite with a fan base that could probably summon lightning.

She watched his performance the night they announced him, smooth voice, ridiculous range and now here he was dming her.

She opened the messages, hovered for a second and then replied

@ryleebyrne

Thanks!! Still kind of processing 😅

Congrats to you too, your vocals in your song?? Insane!!

The reply came fast

@johannesjjpietsch

Ahh you saw that? Appreciate it 💚 I'm still figuring out how to not sound like a goat in the high notes lol

The girl laughed under her breath, not the vibe she was expecting

@ryleebyrne

You sounded brilliant to me! Ive been a bit of a headless chicken since the announcement 😭

@johannesjjpietsch

Oh trust me. SAME. I nearly cried on the floor of my kitchen when I got home. My dog was so concerned

The Ginger laughed out loud, the image of that being too good

@johannesjjpietsch

But seriously, your voice is stunning. It's so warm? Like the musical version of a hug, if that makes sense?? I love it

Rylees heart fluttered, compliments felt nice, but this one felt real.

@ryleebyrne

Okay, stop, or I might actually cry lol. Thank you, and right back to you, your performance was like..it made me want to write a poem?? You've got magic JJ

There was a pause before his next reply

@johannesjjpietsch

Okay I'm keeping that message forever . That's going in the confidence vault. Also, I know that we're in the same semis, but honestly? I'm rooting for you too. There's room for both of us ❤️

Rylee felt her shoulders drop, anxiety lifting just a little bit. Eurovison was huge and terrifying and exciting but this...

...this made it feel human.

@ryleebyrne

Let's promise to cheer for each other no matter what, yeah? Win or lose, I've already got a friend in Austria 🫶🏻

Rylee then locked her phone and smiled to herself. Somewhere out there, another artist in another country had reached out to you across the chaos of Eurovison to say:

"Hey, I see you"

And that, maybe, meant more then anything