Footie RPS Drabble: I Will Always Remember (?/?, G)
I Will Always Remember
by ~Dracaena~
Disclaimer: Obviously this has never happened!
Rating: G
Warnings: Sad? Sappy?
Pairing: ?/? (I can't tell you.)
Archive: NONE
Summary: He will always remember. (What a summary. *rolls eyes*)
Author's Note:
This is UNBETAED, so be warned!
Inspired by fangirl_lizzie, so blame her. ;)
I was so sad and speechless and couldn't find the right words to leave a comment.
Somehow I ended up writing this instead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was cold, bitterly cold and he wrapped the scarf tighter around his neck and face. Year after year the coldness crept through his clothes and into his bones, making him shiver and crave the warmth of his home country. And every year, he said to himself that he wouldn’t come here in winter the next time, yet he always did. In a way he needed the icy cold that caused him so much discomfort. He wanted to hurt when he came here, wanted to be reminded that he was still able to feel pain not just sadness.
The snow which covered the ground had turned into ice, and wasn’t all that pure and white anymore, just like him. He made his way through the long similar looking rows of graves, the ice crunching under his feet with every step he took. It gave him the impression of walking on bones, which in a way he did, and he shivered slightly at that thought.
When he finally had reached his destination, he noticed that someone had been here before. There was no snow covering the stone, fresh flowers adorned it and a small candle flickered in front of it. Slowly he bent down; slipping off his gloves he placed his own bouquet next to the other one.
“Hello, Ruud,” he said softly, smiling despite the sadness he felt in his heart.
It had been ten years since that horrible accident, which had caused half of the Dutch team to lose their lives. He would never forget the day, when his coach had pulled him aside in the training camp during the European Championship, telling him what had happened. At first he hadn’t believed a word of it, had tried to reach Ruud on his cell, but of course all his calls had been in vain. The rest of the tournament had passed by him in a blur, he had felt like he wasn’t there at all, the pain of losing Ruud had been just too much.
In the first winter after Ruud’s dead, he came to his grave telling him that he would leave United and that he had accepted the offer from Chelsea. Playing for United had become a torture for him, with all the memories Old Trafford held, he couldn’t take it anymore. It had started to show in his performance, he hadn’t even made it on the bench in the last couple of games.
As the years passed, he had played for a lot of different clubs in different countries, yet he had always visited Ruud’s grave, to tell him what had happened in the past year. One year it was the Champions League win with Barcelona, the next it was him being the ‘World Player of the Year’, there had been a lot of titles and trophies in his years. And through all the triumphs he had never forgotten his first love, had always stood here telling him how much he missed him and how much he still hurt.
This year, he came to tell him that he would end his career in a couple of months. He had received an extension of his contract, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to play another year. And he had also come to confess something, brushing his fingers over the cold stone he started to chew on his bottom lip nervously.
“I’ve fallen in love.” He cringed, when the words had passed his lips. Somehow expecting for Ruud to suddenly appear and start screaming at him, how he could betray what they once had.
But he had never meant for it to happen in the first place. Had even left that club the instant he realized he wanted more than a no-strings-attached arrangement with this certain player.
In the end, running away hadn’t helped at all. Years later their paths had crossed again, and he had felt immediately that it wasn’t over, would never be over. And now he was kneeling at the grave of his first lover, feeling very much like the teenager he had once been. Hoping Ruud would understand him, hoping he would forgive him for finally going on with his life.
He didn’t know how long he knelt there, on the icy ground pouring his heart out, but a touch on his shoulder made him jerk and turn around. Getting up, his eyes met the questioning ones of his lover. Neither of them needed to say a word, they embraced each other, comforting and sharing their pain in silence. Sometimes they didn’t need the use of verbal communication, they knew by instinct what the other one wanted… needed. And he realized that this was another thing he never had with Ruud.
“I still miss him, Arjen,” he said, while gloved fingers stroked over his back and neck soothingly.
“I miss him too,” the Dutchman replied, looking into his eyes. “And like you, I will always remember.”
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
by ~Dracaena~
Disclaimer: Obviously this has never happened!
Rating: G
Warnings: Sad? Sappy?
Pairing: ?/? (I can't tell you.)
Archive: NONE
Summary: He will always remember. (What a summary. *rolls eyes*)
Author's Note:
This is UNBETAED, so be warned!
Inspired by fangirl_lizzie, so blame her. ;)
I was so sad and speechless and couldn't find the right words to leave a comment.
Somehow I ended up writing this instead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was cold, bitterly cold and he wrapped the scarf tighter around his neck and face. Year after year the coldness crept through his clothes and into his bones, making him shiver and crave the warmth of his home country. And every year, he said to himself that he wouldn’t come here in winter the next time, yet he always did. In a way he needed the icy cold that caused him so much discomfort. He wanted to hurt when he came here, wanted to be reminded that he was still able to feel pain not just sadness.
The snow which covered the ground had turned into ice, and wasn’t all that pure and white anymore, just like him. He made his way through the long similar looking rows of graves, the ice crunching under his feet with every step he took. It gave him the impression of walking on bones, which in a way he did, and he shivered slightly at that thought.
When he finally had reached his destination, he noticed that someone had been here before. There was no snow covering the stone, fresh flowers adorned it and a small candle flickered in front of it. Slowly he bent down; slipping off his gloves he placed his own bouquet next to the other one.
“Hello, Ruud,” he said softly, smiling despite the sadness he felt in his heart.
It had been ten years since that horrible accident, which had caused half of the Dutch team to lose their lives. He would never forget the day, when his coach had pulled him aside in the training camp during the European Championship, telling him what had happened. At first he hadn’t believed a word of it, had tried to reach Ruud on his cell, but of course all his calls had been in vain. The rest of the tournament had passed by him in a blur, he had felt like he wasn’t there at all, the pain of losing Ruud had been just too much.
In the first winter after Ruud’s dead, he came to his grave telling him that he would leave United and that he had accepted the offer from Chelsea. Playing for United had become a torture for him, with all the memories Old Trafford held, he couldn’t take it anymore. It had started to show in his performance, he hadn’t even made it on the bench in the last couple of games.
As the years passed, he had played for a lot of different clubs in different countries, yet he had always visited Ruud’s grave, to tell him what had happened in the past year. One year it was the Champions League win with Barcelona, the next it was him being the ‘World Player of the Year’, there had been a lot of titles and trophies in his years. And through all the triumphs he had never forgotten his first love, had always stood here telling him how much he missed him and how much he still hurt.
This year, he came to tell him that he would end his career in a couple of months. He had received an extension of his contract, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to play another year. And he had also come to confess something, brushing his fingers over the cold stone he started to chew on his bottom lip nervously.
“I’ve fallen in love.” He cringed, when the words had passed his lips. Somehow expecting for Ruud to suddenly appear and start screaming at him, how he could betray what they once had.
But he had never meant for it to happen in the first place. Had even left that club the instant he realized he wanted more than a no-strings-attached arrangement with this certain player.
In the end, running away hadn’t helped at all. Years later their paths had crossed again, and he had felt immediately that it wasn’t over, would never be over. And now he was kneeling at the grave of his first lover, feeling very much like the teenager he had once been. Hoping Ruud would understand him, hoping he would forgive him for finally going on with his life.
He didn’t know how long he knelt there, on the icy ground pouring his heart out, but a touch on his shoulder made him jerk and turn around. Getting up, his eyes met the questioning ones of his lover. Neither of them needed to say a word, they embraced each other, comforting and sharing their pain in silence. Sometimes they didn’t need the use of verbal communication, they knew by instinct what the other one wanted… needed. And he realized that this was another thing he never had with Ruud.
“I still miss him, Arjen,” he said, while gloved fingers stroked over his back and neck soothingly.
“I miss him too,” the Dutchman replied, looking into his eyes. “And like you, I will always remember.”
* ~ * ~ * ~ *