If there was one word to strike dread into Raoul de Chagny's heart, it would be this one: Eurovision.

The thing was, unlike pretty much the entirety of Europe, Raoul did not care even a little bit about Eurovision. As far as he was concerned, Eurovision was "Another year, another disappointment". He never really bothered to watch anything, except perhaps snippets of the French performance, but even then he thought the French performers were mostly terrible and they never won anyways. Or maybe they did and he wasn't paying attention. At any rate, he did not care at all.

His brother Philippe did, though. Philippe would have this huge party and invite all of his friends over to watch Eurovision. And Raoul, being stuck with the inevitable job of host, was forced to sit there and talk to all of Philippe's snooty, elitist friends who demanded caviar and pudding instead of normal snacks like crisps.

Luckily, this year, Raoul was going to be rescued (or so he hoped). His girlfriend, Christine, had agreed to come along and hide in Raoul's room for the entirety of Eurovision. That way, when any of Philippe's friends asked where his glum brother was, Philippe could say, "Oh, he's in his room with his girlfriend" and no one would talk to Raoul. And then, Raoul and Christine could watch Amelie for the millionth time. It would be pure bliss.

Well, that was the plan, at least. Philippe's friends came over in their usual state of half-drunk, half-undressed, and half-painted. Christine came over shortly after most of Philippe's friends, bringing the end (or as Raoul hoped) of Raoul's required socialisation.

Unfortunately, several of Philippe's friends actually knew Christine. "Hey," one of them slurred, "weren't you in that one… musical?"

"Opera," Christine corrected. "I sing opera, not musicals."

"Is there a difference?" someone else asked.

"There's a huge difference," Christine said politely.

"Just like the huge difference between Raoul's-"

"We are going to go to my room if you don't mind," Raoul said loudly.

Christine giggled. "Like they'd know," she said cheekily, winking at him. Raoul turned bright red as Philippe patted him on the shoulder and winked as well.

The entire walk to Raoul's room, the boys hooted and hollered at the pair. "Will you shut up!" Raoul shouted at them, but of course they paid no heed.

"Raoul doesn't want to hang around us," Philippe shouted gleefully. "And why would he, when he's about to get laid!"

"Shut up!" Raoul exclaimed. He was pretty sure that if his ears got any hotter they would spontaneously burst into actual flames.

"Oh, let them have their fun," Christine said. "It's not like they'll remember any of it."

Raoul glared at Philippe and his friends. "You think?"

"Ah, come on," she replied. "They're so far gone they won't even remember they came here in the first place."

Raoul grinned. "You know what," he said slowly, "I think you're right."

"Let's go, then," Christine said, pulling Raoul into his room and kissing him fiercely as soon as the door was shut.

"Hey now," he said, lowering his voice.

"Well I couldn't kiss you in front of all those people, could I?" she pointed out, flouncing over to his bed and plopping down on it. Raoul stood there for a moment, completely lost as to what Christine thought they had planned. "Well?" she asked. "Aren't you going to get the DVD?"

"I- um- yeah," Raoul stammered, running over to his bookshelf and fumbling through the DVDs. "We- well, I have- I have High School Musical, and- and I have Amelie, and then I've got- um-"

"Raoul, dear," Christine said in a dignified tone, "where on Earth did you expect us to sit? The floor? That would hardly be comfortable for two hours. Or perhaps in your closet? On your chair that only holds one person at best?"

"I- um- no, well- I- yeah- no- I didn't expect- right, of course, that's silly- just-"

"If the boys making fun of you has put you off any," Christine began, but Raoul interrupted.

"Of course not!" he said. "I'm just not used to, you know, enjoying Eurovision days."

Christine smiled knowingly. "I see."

"Don't worry- I won't- I would never- unless you- no, I would never-"

"Oh, just get The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel," Christine interrupted. "We can watch old people being sarcastic to one another. That's always good fun."

"Right," Raoul replied, reaching for the DVD and handing it to her.

"Your TV is right here, too," Christine pointed out as she put the DVD in and leaned back on the bed. "We have a better view. Although you could do with more pillows."

"Am I not pillow enough?" Raoul teased, sitting on the bed and opening his arms.

Christine settled her head on his chest. "Hmm, not quite," she said musingly. "You've got too much muscle and not enough fat."

"So you would love me if I got fat," Raoul said. "All right, good to know."

She laughed. "No," she said, kissing him on the cheek before resting her head on his shoulder. "This is all right. You're pretty okay the way you are."

Raoul grinned. "So are you," he replied, putting his arm around her.

Surprisingly, everything was going to plan. The guys downstairs seemed to have forgotten about Raoul's existence, so he was completely undisturbed for the entirety of the movie. However, what Raoul had forgotten about was that the guys stayed overnight sometimes if they got too drunk – which they all, this year, had. Usually, Raoul had to harbour at least one drunk soul (which was a completely separate problem as he never understood Philippe's insistence that everyone sleep in the large bedrooms of the house, instead of sending some people to other wings to sleep in other areas because they had bedrooms enough for thirty guests, but whatever). And that drunken soul happened to be Philippe's best friend Franco, who walked in just as the pair had woken up from a nap and had proceeded to kiss.

"UGH!" Franco shouted. "How long have you guys been doing that with clothes on? What is wrong with you Raoul? Your dick game is weak!"

And of course, even though Christine and Raoul had sprung apart and Raoul had leapt off the bed, Franco's shout brought the entire group. "Go away," Raoul shouted. "We literally just finished watching a movie, and she's staying so you can't sleep here-"

"Oh, watching a movie? Is that what you call it?"

Christine stood up and adjusted her shirt. "This room is occupied," she said in a commanding voice. "I'd suggest that all of you leave."

"Or we could watch," someone in the back of the crowd sniggered.

"That's it," Raoul exclaimed, his years of Eurovision anger finally building up to a climax. "All of you, out! I am not a host and I literally do not care about Eurovision or who won this year and my girlfriend is over and you guys are not going to ruin anything – have you got that?"

His outburst stunned even the drunkest one into silence. "Get out!" Raoul repeated forcefully.

With that, everyone shuffled out whilst muttering to themselves on their way out. "Good riddance," Raoul huffed, slamming the door and locking it.

"You really hate Eurovision, don't you?" Christine laughed.

"I hate Philippe's friends," Raoul clarified. "I just don't care about Eurovision. But Philippe's friends make it that much worse."

"Well, now they won't mess with you," Christine said. "But am I actually staying the night?"

Raoul turned slightly pink. "Only- only if you want to," he stammered. "I'd- I just- I made that up, so they'd go away, but- but if you actually want to-"

"Of course I do," Christine replied, running over to him and hugging him.

Raoul gulped. "Then- then in that case, Christine," he stammered, "there's… there's something I need to ask you."

"Oh?"

He took a deep breath. Better to just do it, and get it over with. The faster he got down on one knee, the easier it was to just say the words.

"Christine Daae," he said, collapsing to one knee and grabbing onto Christine for support before he fell over onto his face, "will- will you marry me?"

"Oh my gosh," she gasped. "I- yes! Yes!" She paused. "Raoul, you're the dorkiest person I've ever met in my life and I would love to spend the rest of my life with you. And I don't mean to be rude or anything but, um, Raoul, where's the ring?"

Raoul looked at Christine in panic and reached into his pocket. The ring box was gone. "I- oh fuck- I had it here, I swear I did- shit-"

He combed every surface of his room for the little ring box, but he couldn't find it anywhere. And that was when he realised that when his brother patted him on the shoulder right before he left to go up to his room, Philippe had used his left arm – to pat Raoul's right shoulder. "That dickhead!" Raoul exclaimed, leaping up from the ground and dashing straight into Philippe's room, where three drunks lay sleeping.

"Where's the ring?" Raoul shouted.

"Wha-?"

Philippe frowned at Raoul, as did Franco, both of whom Raoul had woken up.

"Where's the ring?" Raoul repeated. "Philippe, you knew what I was planning to do and you knew it was in my pocket and where the hell did you hide it?"

Philippe frowned again. "'S in your pocket," he said groggily.

"No it isn't," Raoul repeated. "You took it!"

"'S in your pocket."

"You took it out of that pocket."

"Idiot, did you check the other pockets?"

Raoul paused and took the time to put a hand in his left pocket, then his back left pocket, then his back right, and just as he was about to say triumphantly that all he found was a packet of Kleenex- ah.

"I'll…"

He had nothing to defend himself with so he just ran out as fast as he could with the ring box in his hands.

Christine looked at him questioningly when he came back. "I heard shouting," she said mildly.

"No matter, found it," Raoul said breathlessly, holding out the little purple box to her.

"I already said yes," Christine said, grinning. "But- oh my gosh, it's gorgeous! It's- oh my gosh, it's an opal, Raoul, that's my favourite gem!"

"You're my favourite gem," Raoul replied, attempting to look dashing.

Christine put on the ring and threw her arms around Raoul's neck. "I love it," she sighed. "And you had the ring in your back pocket the entire time, didn't you?"

Raoul looked down at the ground and pursed his lips. "Yes," he said in a very small voice.

"I love you, Raoul de Chagny."

"And I love you, Christine Daae."

They stared at each other, blissfully unaware of anything else in the world. Raoul gently pressed his lips to hers when-

"So when's the wedding?" Philippe shouted from his room.

Raoul sighed. "I guess I can never truly enjoy Eurovision."