Footie RPS Ficlet: Dying Inside (Arjen/Ronnie, G)
Dying Inside
by ~Dracaena~
Disclaimer: Obviously this has never happened!
Rating: G
Warnings: I guess it's still DEATHFIC if someone has already died?
Pairing: Arjen Robben/Cristiano Ronaldo
Archive: NONE
Summary: This must be what dying inside feels like.
Author's Note:
Big big thankies to chimera_negra for the beta.
Credit for some of the dialogue and a particular scene goes to leetje.
I just had to write this... it's therapy in a way. I wrote a similar piece once which had been the beginning of the RPG!wOObies and now this might be the end of them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The house looks exactly like the first time he had set foot in it; still, something is different this time. It hadn’t been this deadly silent back then. Instead it had been filled with his voice, with his laughter with his presence.
Arjen walks into the living room and takes a step closer to the various photographs adorning one of the walls. His heart constricts painfully while his fingers trace the frame of a picture. It had been his favourite of them. And a small smile plays on Arjen’s lips as he remembers how he had told him the story behind it.
“We went to fish, my brother and I. And I step on stone and cut my foot, was so scared I never play football again.” He had brushed his fingers over the picture, his voice filled with the fond memories of the moment.
“And?”
”Mama, take me in her arms and saying I will be okay again.” He had said turning to him. “She was right.”
There is also Arjen’s favourite photograph on this wall, the one of a small boy in the arms of a woman; the boy in the picture is smeared from head to toe in chocolate.
“Ha, so you did love chocolate and candy when you were little?”
His cheeks had turned pink at that. “Umm… yeah… come, there is more to see.”
“I believe you’re blushing,” Arjen had said, grinning at him.
“Am not!”
“Yes, you are!” Arjen had teased further. “And you’re cute when you do.”
After that, Arjen had been all but dragged out of the room and they had headed upstairs, just as he’s doing now. But unlike now, Arjen’s steps had been light while climbing those stairs for the first time, he had been so curious to see the rest of the house, giddy almost.
Everything here had been so different from his parents’ home in Holland. The furniture, the decoration, it was something he had never seen before, and despite the white walls, the house looked so warm.
For a moment he has to grip the banister tightly, as a flood of emotions overcomes him. Dark and warm, just like him, and once more Arjen cannot believe that he will never come back, that he is gone forever.
Tears start to roll down his face and he suppresses a sob. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. They were supposed to have a happy ending; no, they deserved a happy ending, not some wretched nightmare like this.
His fingernails dig into the wooden surface of the star-railing, and with painstaking effort, he straightens up and takes the last remaining stairs to the upper floor.
Arjen pauses at the door that leads to the bedroom, and leans heavily against it. He knows that even more memories await him behind it, more bittersweet reminders of what once was and never will be again.
Maybe he should wait and ask for a different room. He knows the family will be here soon, and that they would grant his wish.
“I did not think you were coward.”
He whirls around at those words, trying to make out the source, but there is no one. Of course there isn’t, you are alone, you fool. Still for a moment he could have sworn the voice belonged to him.
No, he isn’t a coward, never has been, at least that’s what he thinks. And so he takes a deep breath, opens the door, and steps inside the bedroom. The air is stuffy, and Arjen feels like suffocating with his scent still lingering in the room.
With two strides, he crosses the room and opens the door leading to the balcony. He swiftly steps outside hoping to escape the memories for just a moment longer.
“Come here.” His voice was husky with arousal. “You are wrong before. I wanted you when I saw you at the airport. I want to touch you and have you so badly. Show you I love you so much.”
“You are good at hiding it then.”
He should have seen this coming, but the memory of that moment still hits him like a ton of bricks. It’s too much. Unable to keep himself up he slides to the floor, while pain overwhelms him again. This must be what dying inside feels like. When a part of your soul is ripped from you, and in its place is nothing is left but emptiness and despair.
They had planned on coming here again this year. To see how the construction of the new house was going, and to spend at least two weeks alone with each other, without having to worry about the press tracing their every move. Both had been looking forward to it. And, now? Now, it's only him who is returning to this place, and he has no idea how to go on from here.
Arjen already knows what will happen, and that everyone will say life had to go on, but how was he supposed to go on with his life without him in it? At the moment, the thought seems impossible to him.
Crawling inside the room and climbing onto the bed, he buries his face into his pillow. This time in the hope of smelling him but while the room still held traces of his scent, the pillow only smells of some soapy washing detergent.
“Why did you leave me?” Arjen asks, sobbing into the pillow. “Why?”
There's no answer to his words, only more tears and pain. He cries and cries, until his already exhausted body and mind drift into sleep. With his last waking thought, he wishes he would never wake up again, that he could sleep forever.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
by ~Dracaena~
Disclaimer: Obviously this has never happened!
Rating: G
Warnings: I guess it's still DEATHFIC if someone has already died?
Pairing: Arjen Robben/Cristiano Ronaldo
Archive: NONE
Summary: This must be what dying inside feels like.
Author's Note:
Big big thankies to chimera_negra for the beta.
Credit for some of the dialogue and a particular scene goes to leetje.
I just had to write this... it's therapy in a way. I wrote a similar piece once which had been the beginning of the RPG!wOObies and now this might be the end of them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The house looks exactly like the first time he had set foot in it; still, something is different this time. It hadn’t been this deadly silent back then. Instead it had been filled with his voice, with his laughter with his presence.
Arjen walks into the living room and takes a step closer to the various photographs adorning one of the walls. His heart constricts painfully while his fingers trace the frame of a picture. It had been his favourite of them. And a small smile plays on Arjen’s lips as he remembers how he had told him the story behind it.
“We went to fish, my brother and I. And I step on stone and cut my foot, was so scared I never play football again.” He had brushed his fingers over the picture, his voice filled with the fond memories of the moment.
“And?”
”Mama, take me in her arms and saying I will be okay again.” He had said turning to him. “She was right.”
There is also Arjen’s favourite photograph on this wall, the one of a small boy in the arms of a woman; the boy in the picture is smeared from head to toe in chocolate.
“Ha, so you did love chocolate and candy when you were little?”
His cheeks had turned pink at that. “Umm… yeah… come, there is more to see.”
“I believe you’re blushing,” Arjen had said, grinning at him.
“Am not!”
“Yes, you are!” Arjen had teased further. “And you’re cute when you do.”
After that, Arjen had been all but dragged out of the room and they had headed upstairs, just as he’s doing now. But unlike now, Arjen’s steps had been light while climbing those stairs for the first time, he had been so curious to see the rest of the house, giddy almost.
Everything here had been so different from his parents’ home in Holland. The furniture, the decoration, it was something he had never seen before, and despite the white walls, the house looked so warm.
For a moment he has to grip the banister tightly, as a flood of emotions overcomes him. Dark and warm, just like him, and once more Arjen cannot believe that he will never come back, that he is gone forever.
Tears start to roll down his face and he suppresses a sob. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. They were supposed to have a happy ending; no, they deserved a happy ending, not some wretched nightmare like this.
His fingernails dig into the wooden surface of the star-railing, and with painstaking effort, he straightens up and takes the last remaining stairs to the upper floor.
Arjen pauses at the door that leads to the bedroom, and leans heavily against it. He knows that even more memories await him behind it, more bittersweet reminders of what once was and never will be again.
Maybe he should wait and ask for a different room. He knows the family will be here soon, and that they would grant his wish.
“I did not think you were coward.”
He whirls around at those words, trying to make out the source, but there is no one. Of course there isn’t, you are alone, you fool. Still for a moment he could have sworn the voice belonged to him.
No, he isn’t a coward, never has been, at least that’s what he thinks. And so he takes a deep breath, opens the door, and steps inside the bedroom. The air is stuffy, and Arjen feels like suffocating with his scent still lingering in the room.
With two strides, he crosses the room and opens the door leading to the balcony. He swiftly steps outside hoping to escape the memories for just a moment longer.
“Come here.” His voice was husky with arousal. “You are wrong before. I wanted you when I saw you at the airport. I want to touch you and have you so badly. Show you I love you so much.”
“You are good at hiding it then.”
He should have seen this coming, but the memory of that moment still hits him like a ton of bricks. It’s too much. Unable to keep himself up he slides to the floor, while pain overwhelms him again. This must be what dying inside feels like. When a part of your soul is ripped from you, and in its place is nothing is left but emptiness and despair.
They had planned on coming here again this year. To see how the construction of the new house was going, and to spend at least two weeks alone with each other, without having to worry about the press tracing their every move. Both had been looking forward to it. And, now? Now, it's only him who is returning to this place, and he has no idea how to go on from here.
Arjen already knows what will happen, and that everyone will say life had to go on, but how was he supposed to go on with his life without him in it? At the moment, the thought seems impossible to him.
Crawling inside the room and climbing onto the bed, he buries his face into his pillow. This time in the hope of smelling him but while the room still held traces of his scent, the pillow only smells of some soapy washing detergent.
“Why did you leave me?” Arjen asks, sobbing into the pillow. “Why?”
There's no answer to his words, only more tears and pain. He cries and cries, until his already exhausted body and mind drift into sleep. With his last waking thought, he wishes he would never wake up again, that he could sleep forever.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *