It seemed like there were no other options, so Thrasher wrote his Eurovision song (crying) packed his suitcase (crying) and hopped on the plane to Baku (crying all the way). When he reached his hotel room (crying slightly less) , he dumped his suitcase on the ground (now only sniffling) and took out his phone (wiping the tears away and composing himself).

However, his phone wallpaper was an Instagram picture of himself and Vaurien, staring dreamily into each other's eyes, and it set Thrasher off into floods of tears all over again. Finally, his tear ducts fell out (don't ask how) and he had to stop, so he pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and stared at it. It was his Eurovision song - his only chance for getting Vaurien back.

He heard a clock strike ten in the distance. Azerbaijan was four hours ahead of Ireland, so here, the Eurovision would start at midnight. Just two hours to go. Two hours until the moment that could either reunite Thrasher with the love of his life, or seperate them forever.
Wow, Thrasher thought, surprised. That was deep. Maybe I'm getting better at this hipster stuff.

He had to be at the Crystal Hall two hours early to get his hair, make-up, costume, set-up and promo in, so he headed outside and got in a taxi. I'm ready, he thought determinedly (if that's a word). Europe, here I come.

TWO HOURS LATER (RIGHT BEFORE THE MOMENT THAT COULD EITHER REUNITE THRASHER WITH THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE OR SEPERATE THEM FOREVER)

Thrasher stood trembling in the wings with his backing dancers. Finland, the act that were on before him, were just finishing their song, and he could hear the hall fill with thunderous applause. Thrasher was almost positive that no-one would applaud for him - he was no Jedward, after all, just a balding little zombie with no tear ducts and a song in his heart. A really crap song. But that didn't matter. The only person he wanted to applaud for him was Vaurien. No one else's opinion mattered.

The cameras swung in his direction, and he was forced to smile at them and wave like mad. Then Thrasher walked onto the stage with shaky legs, and he heard thousands of murmurs in the crowd as they wondered where Jedward were. He hoped they wouldn't throw anything at him.

As his band got set up, the stadium was dark, and a short film thing about Azerbaijan - Land of Carpets played on the screen behind him. Then the Crystal Hall lit up green, white and orange, the band started to play Waterline, and Thrasher began to sing.

"Scapegrace
You're a babe
If my heart could beat, it would be beating fast
You're so great, so please stay
I smell bad, but please take me back

You turned me into a zombie
And I've never been in love so deeply before

Thanks to you, I am
Zom-bi-fied
When you're around, sometimes I lose my head
And it feels fine

I'm so glad I was
Zom-bi-fied
And the way I'm loving you now
I just want to always be known as your sidekick

Hipster hats, cameras flash
Venti lattes, ice cream vans
You make me feel alive
Your laugh, your false moustache
What's the use, I can't let you go

You turned me into a zombie
I've never been in love so deeply before

Thanks to you, I am
Zom-bi-fied
When you're around, sometimes I lose my head
And it feels fine

I'm so glad I was
Zom-bi-fied
And the way I'm loving you now
I just want to always be known as your sidekick."

The music stopped, and Thrasher's ear fell off. Hoping no-one had noticed, he shoved it into his pocket and faced the audience. They stared at him, and he stared back. A few people started to clap, and a couple of Irish flags waved around half-heartedly. Thrasher gave a watery smile and rushed off the stage, overcome by emotion.
Now all he could do was wait.

Meanwhile, at Clarabelle's...

Vaurien was in his room, looking at LoveQuotesRUs on Tumblr while listening to sad hipster music, when Clarabelle came running in, her blue hair streaming behind her like a... blue curtain. 'Veevee! Thrasher's on the Eurovision! Come and see!'

Vaurien was about to harshly explain how much he despised the mainstream-ness of the Eurovision Song Contest when Clarabelle grabbed his hand and forcibly dragged him downstairs. She was surprisingly strong for a girl her size, and he feared his arm would come away from his body if he tried to pull away, so he reluctantly let her have her way.

What he saw on the television would have made his heart stop, if it hadn't stopped years ago already. His ex was standing on the stage. Singing about him. To the tune of a mainstream pop song, written by - dare he even think their names? - Jedward, the twin Antichrists of the hipster world.

And Vaurien was crying.

Not in shock. Not in horror. Not in disgust. He was crying because he'd been stupid enough to let Thrasher go when Thrasher was clearly the best thing to have ever happened to him, apart from that one time the Sanctuary officials were moving him to another prison and they forgot about him at the rest stop.

'Oh, Thrasher,' he sobbed. 'I've never been in love so deeply before, either.'

He took out his phone and called Thrasher. Thrasher answered on the first ring.

'Veevee?'

'Yes, it's me.'

'Oh, Veevee! Have you forgiven me?'

'Yes, yes and thrice yes!'

'Oh, Veevee, thank you! I'm so sorry I - '

Vaurien interrupted. 'Thrasher, will you marry me?'

'...What?'

'Will you be my zombie husband?'

'Oh, Veevee, of course I will! You've made me the happiest zombie alive!'

'I'm flying straight to Baku, okay? We can get married there because it's a suitably obscure place for a hipster wedding. Even if it is hosting the Eurovision.'

'Oh, Veevee, I can hardly wait!'

'I love you.'

'I love you too, Master.'

Thrasher put the phone down and started to dance around his hotel room. And not even his leg falling off could put a dampener on his happiness.

The end.