fic: some things should be simple, even an end has a start
some things should be simple, even an end has a start
futbol rpf. cesc fabregas et all. (cesc/pique but barely ha)
the epic saga that is cescgate, from barcelona to london to barcelona again. plus a few stupid texts, sacrilegious slogans, a couple of punches and more references to peter pan than are necessary. 8,078 words (lies).
written entirely for/with erica_lopeezy who put up not only with the many drafts of this stupid fic but also gave me the best feedback ever, read all 40 pages more times than anyone should and helped me research arsenal just enough to make this happen.
(there's probably some (a lot) of chronological inaccuracies but i really didn't know shit about arsenal. i tried my best. and well fuck it. this is fiction and i make my own cannon dammit)
“Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting."
-Peter Pan
One minute he is stopping Robin from getting into a fight with Busquets and the next he is giving the ball away just outside the area when- Andres Iniesta collects it, lets his feet find Lio, who, with one touch manages to retain enough balance to shoot… and score.
It's a great goal but a body blow for Arsenal, for Cesc.
This, Cesc Fàbregas has come to expect. Barcelona with their tiki-taka and 80% ball possession. And Arsenal, well Arsenal is just going to grab whatever the fuck they can get.
But as he's come to learn, even in the darkest of times there's still moments of magic.
Robin takes the corner and, although Diaby goes for it, the ball goes straight into the net courtesy of Sergio Busquets' head.
So maybe it's not magic, it's luck. But at this point, Cesc Fàbregas will take whatever he can.
And then-
Xavi scores.
Robin gets carded.
Messi scores.
The whistle blows, and Arsenal are out of the Champions League.
Cesc just feels like shit. He curses at himself, at his team, at the fans who won't stop screaming Barca, Barca, Baaaaaarca!, at the pocket of broken fans right at the top of the Camp Nou. He looks straight ahead, at the people celebrating, at his friends. Smiling, jumping, screaming.
And he smiles.
Robin kicks the asphalt.
If you need a Big Defining Moment in the Cesc Fàbregas Saga, this is it. This is the moment something inside Cesc snapps. So take note, because this is the moment where everything changes.
_
But that's getting too far ahead, track back, let's rewind.
Long before Arsenal, before let's talk about Cesc, baby and we've got Fàbregas, Cesc had a team and dreams of his own. He spent years not losing a game with Barcelona's youth academy. He lived in his own bubble.
3-4-3, Leo behind the forwards, Gerard as centre back, and Cesc? Cesc as the axis upon which the team hinged. 3-4-3, the Dream Team.
Receive, pass, offer, receive, pass, offer- the Barca foundations etched into his brain.
Corner kick to Gerard and gol, Borrell yelling next time you decide to take an excursion, don't forget your backpack!
He spent his nights playing ProEvo tournaments with Lio and made fun of Gerard's tantrums when he would lose (which was often). Cesc had friends who felt like his own blood. They felt like family. And he knew, he could feel it in the Barca DNA flowing through his veins, he was exactly where he was meant to be.
La Masía was a place where dreams happened.
La Masía was Neverland.
_
"London it is then?" Gerard asks over the phone.
"You heard?"
"We all heard."
He doesn't say anything and picks at the label of an empty strawberry yogurt cup.
"You'll need driving lessons."
"And English as well."
They're past all the whys; too obvious, too painful.
"Shit, London."
"Better than some no-name club in the middle of fucking Russia."
Gerard snickers. "Still, London."
Cesc doesn't know what to say. His mind is made up; if he can't break into the first team in red and blue he'll do it in red and white.
"Hey it's almost dinner, but- come around this weekend, we'll give you a proper send off."
Before the line goes dead he says in a flat tone. "Does Lio-?"
"He hasn't said anything."
_
We'll save you all the trouble of guessing and let you know that while yes, Lio-Gerard-Cesc were inseparable (the Baby Dream Team), Cesc Fàbregas and Gerard Pique roomed together for a reason. So that call, you see- that call is more than just the parting of friends.
_
He doesn't get grand notions of living an extravagant life, upon arriving at London. He shares a flat with Philippe (who has a bigger room than his, fucker) and Noreen is kind enough to drive him around the city and back and forth from the pitch and his English lessons.
One of these days, he'll learn how to drive.
His room is tiny and he spends his days off the pitch playing PlayStation on the tiny TV he's got in his room. It's a long way from La Masía. From ping pong tournaments with Gerard and Lio and eating his meals on the giant tables, talking about fútbol until they're all out of breath. And while he's made acquaintances with the team he spends most weekends alone, staring at the TV.
Philippe drags him out one Saturday. They visit the shops at Barnet High street and rent Spanish movies from BlockBuster.
It's tough, thinking about his friends back home. Gerard calls and texts and e-mails about the food and the weather and the clubs he almost went into last weekend before deciding on that stupid party someone was throwing. All while Cesc sits around and wonders what the hell he is doing so far away.
This was his decision though, nobody put a bullet to his head.
So he makes the best of it. He stays longer at training with Lauren and learns a couple of tricks from him. He shows Arsène and everyone just how eager he is to play.
"The waiting, it's bitter I know," Arsène tells him long after training is over, "but it makes the rewards much sweeter."
_
At Arsenal his goal is set:
Make the first team and show everyone at Barcelona just how brilliant he can be. Yeah, that'll show them.
Arsène tells him patience but Cesc is done being patient. He's tired of waiting around for Xavi to stop being brilliant and Iniesta to start making faulty passes.
He's been taught how to pass and think fast, to seek open opportunities and not be selfish with the ball.
No one really spoke about patience back home.
So he trains hard and then some more. He takes English lessons and stops talking Spanish with Philippe, on and off the pitch. He trains hard and tries harder, he wants to show the world just what he's capable of.
And then at sixteen, he finally steps up from the bench. It's at that moment that he realizes some things.
- He's made the right choice.
- Arsène believes in him, he has a vision for Cesc.
- Everyone knows what happens when the Lost Kids grow up
_
He earns a spot on the team. He runs his heart out and makes brilliant passes.
And mediocre ones too.
Viera doesn't yell, and Cesc doesn’t understand.
"You're only 17. You have 15 or 20 seasons ahead of you, it's impossible to perform top level every time, Cesc. Those people out there, the ones that demand that- they don't know the game. What matters is you give 100% and know, that you may not get 100% back. But you shouldn't beat yourself up over it. You just keep working hard."
Cesc wants to yell and tell him he doesn't know shit. Look at Barcelona, look at Iniesta. How can Viera see that and still talk about impossible.
_
Titi nudges his arm. "There's no club in the world like this." He says, pointing at the fans.
We're by far, the greatest team the world has ever seen.
"Trust me, you'll fall in love then never want to leave." He tells Cesc in a mixture broken English and Spanish.
Yeah, that's what he's afraid of.
_
They move from Highbury to the Emirates and everything feels intimidating.
The pitch is bigger and while yes, the fans still sing their heart out, still sing about Thierry and Flamini, they feel far away.
Cesc is just glad he got to experience nights at Highbury. Because Highbury is full of memories he'll never forget. Like hearing people sing his name for the first time. Fàbregas, Fàbregas woah woah.
He may miss everything about Barcelona, but he's never felt homesick on the pitch.
_
With time, he learns that he can fall in love with football again. Barcelona sure means home, but Arsenal means playing, passing the ball back and forth and sometimes scoring too. It means the fans singing his name out the top of their lungs.
It means making first team.
If there was ever a doubt (and there was, all the time) that he'd made the right choice, then the magical nights playing in red were enough reassurance.
It may not be Camp Nou, Neverland, but this is good.
This is enough.
_
Philippe complains about the singing program Cesc is not really paying attention to when his mobile starts to ring.
"Hey, you're going to get that?" Philippe asks, throwing a carrot that lands next to him.
"What- yeah." He's tired, his bones hurt, not to mention- Wegner's been riding him the whole week, trying to make him understand that it doesn't matter who you are, where you're from, who you trained under, the ball is always quicker than the legs. So pass the fucking ball when your teammate is asking.
"England, sell it to me."
"What?"
"Come on Cesc, help a friend out. Tell me it's great this time of the year."
Cesc, confused and half asleep, starts babbling about the Thames and cobbled streets, the crisp wind that cuts through everything, the gardens, the people, "and the food's not so bad. I still have tupperware from my grandmother but, there's sushi. Good sushi- wait, I thought you said you couldn't come up next week."
Gerard makes a sound and starts laughing. Cesc just feels like he's missed the joke.
"Not everything is about you, idiot. United, they've been calling."
He picks the carrot next to him and digs his fingernails into it. "You serious?"
Manchester.
Cristiano Ronaldo.
Ferdinand.
Manc.
England.
"Well I want to play, and they seem interested enough."
"Manchester's not that far, we'll get to hang out and I'll beat you at ping pong-"
Gerard quickly interrupts. "You'll never beat me at ping pong. But shut up, this isn't about you. This is about playing."
"You're seriously considering this, you really want to leave?"
There's silence, and a few seconds feel like minutes.
"Did you?"
Cesc doesn't answer.
_
Three weeks after, Gerard comes visit.
Any day now, his transfer will be final. He'll be a Manc (Cesc's stomach hurls at the thought), he'll be in England.
Cesc is still shit at driving, but that doesn't stop him from picking him up at the airport.
They get sushi on their way back and Cesc talks all to fast, too much, like he's been keeping all his Catala and Spanish bottled up.
"Fuck, you sure you're allowed to drive this?" Gerard says after Cesc goes through a red light and a couple of cars honk at them.
"Shut up, I think we're lost." Cesc snaps. The car behind them honks in irritation, and Gerard sinks into his own seat. Like the bitch is embarrassed to be seen with Cesc.
"We're lost? You are lost. Just- just drive straight." He says, gesturing the empty road.
"I hate you sometimes." Cesc bitches.
At this, Gerard laughs. "Better than to hate fucking me, I guess."
"Shut up or I'll kick your ass when we get home." Cesc says as he takes a left. Finally, a street he recognizes.
"This may be your town, but you still punch like a girl."
Cesc looks right and left and then punches Gerard on the shoulder. It makes his knuckles hurt.
A car honks behind them once more and Cesc reacts by turning right, almost crashing into a mini cooper.
Gerard laughs all the way home.
_
Cesc and Gerard fight like brothers most of the time, with all the kicks and punches and ear pulling. They bring each other down in order to build each other up. Their coaches and teammates may sneer at the bruises and pulled muscles, but it's the rhythm they've gotten used to.
Except.
Except when they fight like lovers.
Pay attention now, the plot is about to thicken.
"Think you'll get used to England?" Cesc asks, laying down on the couch while Gerard sits on the floor with his back against it. He's playing FIFA, Barcelona - Arsenal. Xavi just tackled Cesc.
"I'll survive."
"More than that, you saw how nice it's here." He elbows the back of Gerard's head. "We'll be an hour away."
"Make a name for ourselves, show everyone back home how good we are, blah blah blah. I know, I know." FIFA-Xavi scores and Gerard laughs. "One day though, we'll be back. Trust me."
Cesc wants to believe him. Hell, even FIFA-Cesc wants to believe him, but he knows better by now. He's not doing bad himself here.
"You do want to go back, right?"
Cesc doesn't say anything back. He thinks about warm summer nights in Barcelona, the Mini Estadi, playing with Lio on the halls of La Masía, sneaking around the trophy room. He's too old to go back.
"Don't you miss home? Your family, friends, Lio? Don't you want to go back to Catalunya?"
To his defense, Cesc regrets the words even as they're leaving his mouth.
"Catalunya es mes que un club."
FIFA-Cesc scores, but Gerard doesn't say anything. He doesn't move or blink.
He's gone the next morning.
_
They knock out Madrid, Juventus and Villareal.
And Cesc finds himself at the Stade de France in Paris, starting at a Champions League final.
Against Barcelona.
Against Iniesta and Puyol and Valdes.
He thinks he'll hurl next to the toilet, wait for the acid reflux to come out, he'll have to tie his boots twice, just to make sure he's ready. But in the locker room, Titi assures them they're the best team in the world. They deserve to be here. If they stick to their foundation, if they play honor, humility and hunger, the pieces will fall into place. Cesc believes his captain, he believes the fans who sing Arsenal are magic, they're got some magic kids.
But-
Lehmann gets red carded.
Titi can speak about magic all he wants, but in his gut Cesc knows there's no way of beating Barcelona with ten men.
_
Titi warned him, he would fall in love. It's true, he loves the fans that sing his name and wear his jersey with pride. He's fallen in love with the english way and his teammates. And Arsène, whose done nothing but be patient with him, who believed in a stupid 16 year old who had desire to play. Barcelona may have set the foundation, but Arsène's the one who cultivated his talent.
But then-
Titi fucks off to Barcelona and Cesc feels like this is what going insane must feel like.
He says how much he’s sorry, but Cesc still doesn’t get it.
“You can come too, you know.”
Cesc wants to punch him straight on the jaw. “I’m going to lead this team into victory.”
Titi smiles at him. “I know you will.”
He gives him a pat on the back and tells him good luck. He curses at the photographs and kicks away his cleats.
And then he decides, if he can't go to Barcelona himself, he'll do so with Arsenal.
_
Will they ever, will they ever, will they ever win the league.
The fans scream.
"The fans out there, they'll travel anywhere for you. They'll never stop singing our name, so let's show them what we're capable of."
But just like that, Arsenal drops out of the Champions League.
_
There's offers, of course, Real Madrid and Liverpool and a number of clubs who finally see just how brilliant he can be.
He laughs it off, sings a new contract that will allow him to stay for years and years to come, maybe even for life.
When he tells Arsène, "Don't bring the bids up, I don't want to know" he means it.
Arsenal finally means home.
_
The lack of titles is a low, but then he scores with La Roja and assists El Niño to score… and Cesc feels like the best player in the world.
_
Sky Sports tell him.
Not his friends, not his family, not Lio. Sky Fucking Sports.
It's written across the scrolling banner at the bottom of the screen.
"Former Cule returns home: Manchester United and Barcelona reach agreement over centre back Gerard Pique."
He's happy of course, so he picks up the phone.
To: gerard3
if you're going to be on tv
then wear something nice.
Ten minutes go by before his phone chimes.
From: gerard3
haaaaaaa i knew you
were watching
Gerard wears that stupid Inspector Gadget trench and it sends Cesc into a laughing fit. Philippe would probably complain about the noise, but Cesc's been long gone from there. He's got an apartment of his own, with a big pool and floor-to-ceiling windows that fill the rooms with sunlight. His got his own home.
Long after the contract signing and presentation, after Cesc's already laughed at the silly cartoon with Gerard's stupid face, he dials his number.
"You looked good, happy. And I'm happy for you."
Gerard mumbles something to someone or another then says goodbye. "Sorry. Hey, I'll call you back later yeah? You still coming home for the summer?"
Home.
"Yeah." Cesc knows, and so does Gerard, there are a lot of things that could be said here, but if they're not said they can't be twisted into something wrong, cruel, violent, so he says congratulations and hangs up the phone.
He's happy of course. But for the record, he's also bitter.
_
Lio calls a week after that. He rarely calls and Cesc thinks he must be busy most of the time. He’s got too much on his plate, too much to fight for and prove.
Cesc was there when he first came, when people would mock him for not talking and taking long trips to the infirmary. Gerard was there too, of course, and together they kicked, punched, yelled at anyone who would so much as mention the growth hormones. They were there to gain enough of his trust that one day, out of nowhere, Lio came out of his shell and shared just about everything with them.
They don’t talk much these days, but you should probably know that Cesc misses Lio just as much as he misses Gerard.
“Remember that time we were away in Rome?” Lio asks Cesc.
Cesc remebers, he remembers everything. “You punched Geri for hiding your shin pads.”
Lio laughs. “And I said when we all made first team, I would cut off the sleeves from his jerseys.”
So that’s why he called. Gerard’s only been back for a week and already he’s running to Lio and asking him to do his dirty work. “We always thought maybe one of us would break first team.”
Deep down, he always knew just how brilliant Lio could be.
“But now there’s two of us here and you-”
Cesc doesn’t want to hear it. He’s happy for both of them, maybe still a bit bitter about it, but he’s moved on. He’s got people who never doubted him, people who trust him enough not to fuck up. ”I’m doing just as well here.”
“I’m not saying-”
Cesc cuts him off again. “I know what you’re saying, and I want you to know I am happy here. And I’m happy for both of you.”
“That’s all that matters, but when we meet at Camp Nou you better bring the scissors.”
_
When Cesc was 13 and his world was crushing down (courtesy of a nasty divorce), Borell got Pep Guardiola to sign a #4 barca jersey for him.
One day, you will be Barcelona’s #4
The shirt is back at his father’s apartment, tucked away with all the trophies and medals he won as a child.
One day.
One day.
One day.
He’s not waiting for that day to come, he’s come a long way from that.
He clings instead to another promise.
Arsène may not be Pep Guardiola, but he’s kept his end of the deal.
Cesc is now captain, he’s #4 all on his own.
_
Barcelona goes out to win just about everything and then some more.
Gerard and Lio call drunk off champagne and beer and who knows what else. Cesc doesn’t want to be rude, he’s happy for his friends and he’s happy for their club, so he listens to their slurs and laughs when Lio tells him next time he comes over he has to try some tequila beer juice whatever.
“Cesc, Cesc, you should be out drinking too.” Gerard practically yells at him, he’s still out and people are still singing and celebrating around him.
“Some of us have things to do tomorrow morning. Prior commitments.”
Gerard says something to Lio that Cesc can't really understand. Then his voice gets deeper, like he's cupping his mobile. "You still there? Hey listen and remember this because I won't. We miss you and want you to come back. Or well, Lio misses you and I just really want you here. With me- us. Shit, hello?"
Without even thinking about it, he hangs up the phone.
It's one thing for Gerard to bring up Barca DNA and resort to using Lio, but to say he misses him, Cesc Fàbregas, not the player but the person… some things Cesc just doesn't want to think about.
_
He doesn't win shit again.
Robin tries to cheer him up by bringing him sweets and pastries and Cesc wants to scream. How can someone be so nice to him after he's done nothing but knock his team from every chance of silverware?
"We'll get our break. We're young Cesc, our time will come."
Cesc doesn't feel young. He's beaten and while Arsène's kept true to his promise, seven years is too long to wait for a trophy. For anything.
_
In South Africa, Gerard and Puyol and even Xavi won't shut up about him finally coming home.
He knew it, as soon as he said the words If I leave, it would be to Barcelona this shitstorm would start. But he was caught off guard; it was wishful thinking. Of course he wouldn’t leave this team. His team.
Seven years waiting for medals and titles is too long, but he’s not about to quit just because someone started some rumors about Barcelona wanting to bring back one of their own.
What he meant to say was,
If he ever wanted to leave, some day down the road, it would be for Barcelona.
Of course it would be for them, Cesc would never dare dream about another team. Because sometimes he dreams. He dreams of playing in blaugrana, of scoring goals at Camp Nou, setting a pass for Lio or Iniesta or even Xavi himself and letting them score. He dreams of the warm weather and drinking stupid cocktails with Gerard. Planting pranks on Pedro and beating Sergio at Parchese.
That’s all it is, a dream.
Arsenal may not be Neverland, but they have their own kind of magic.
_
“I know losing is your thing, but you better get used to winning now that you’re coming back.” Gerard tells him after their first match. A horrible loss to Switzerland.
“You don’t even know if I’m coming back. I don’t even know if I want to come back.”
Gerard pulls at his ear and slaps his arm. “What the fuck are you on about, of course you want to come back.”
Cesc punches his shoulder, hard. “Even if I did, it’s not up to me.”
“Stop acting like this isn’t up to you. I know you have ways of getting what you want.” Gerard wraps his arms around Cesc for a second before slapping his cheek and running of to Puyol.
_
Ramos and Navas take just about 400€ from him and Gerard at dominoes.
Cesc would much rather go take a nap than give away his money just because Gerard is too scared to yell at Navas for being a cheat. So when they ask him to come play for the third time around, he politely declines.
Gerard knocks on his door before he can fetch his pill bottle.
“What are you doing here?”
“Puyi’s off at some captains meeting and Javi is even worse than you at dominoes. Don’t ever let me partner up with him again, write that down.”
“Then go off to play pocha with Arbeloa and Raúl.”
Gerard makes a face, and Cesc knows he’s about to talk bollocks again. “You’re still moping around because of what I said. Fine, don’t come back. Stay at Arsenal if that’s what you want.”
That, Cesc wasn’t expecting.
“Just don’t take one of your stupid pills to knock yourself down and come let me kick your ass at ping pong.”
Cesc punches him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m not playing for 70€, 20 or I’m staying here.”
“90.”
He flicks Gerard’s ear. “That’s not how it works, idiot.”
“Fine.” Gerard exhales before he leans down and kisses Cesc straight on the mouth, in the sloppiest of ways.
Cesc pulls at his ears and slaps Gerard twice for good measure before letting go.
Stupid Gerard and his stupid incentives; Cesc would much rather pretend to lose at ping pong if it means Gerard will kiss him again than playing some stupid card game with Javi and Pepe.
_
"This team can do such amazing things, Cesc and you're part of it. Just relish it." Puyol tells him once they're done training for the day.
"I shouldn't complain about play time, I know."
"But you just want a chance. I get it."
Gerard may say he understands, but he doesn't. Cesc wants to play, it's all he knows how to do. Puyi, on the other hand, he gets it.
He stops bringing up Barcelona after that.
_
The reality of things is this:
Cesc get barely any play time. El mister and Toni and just about everyone tell him to be patient, his time will come. So he trains, loses more money to Arbeloa and Raúl and gets a grand total of 25 minutes of actual playing time.
Then.
They're at Soccer City. The fans scream and sing and the drums sound louder than usual.
The reality of things is he sets up the pass that inevitably gives Spain the win.
_
The final whistle blows and before he can go jump, scream, run, drink, he finds Robin. And in that moment, everything is so clear, he wants to say sorry, I'm sorry, sorry because Robin should know what it feels like to win.
Cesc Fàbregas the person may want to come home after all those years, but Cesc Fàbregas the player? He wants to bring his team to victory.
_
The media goes crazy, after Gerard and Puyol pull off that stupid stunt. Naturally, his name is everywhere.
Culebron.
Cescgate.
Arsenal keeping him against his will.
Barca DNA.
Arsène is the devil.
He's advised to keep his mouth shut (and you should know, it's not the first time, and it won't be the last), so when Gerard invites him along to Ibiza he throws some clothes into a suitcase and says fuck it to everything else.
_
Gerard’s already drunk by the time Cesc arrives at the hotel.
He’s drinking some mint melon whatever-thing from a glass goblet and almost trips on his own feet when he greets Cesc.
“You’re here- you came but hey- drink this, it’s good right? Hey, there’s no moping here, deal?”
Cesc shakes his head, he doesn’t want to think about anything but the beach, hot girls, drinks and his best friend.
Gerard, on the other hand, spends most of his time making fun of Cesc's taste in music and taking photos from horrible angles that make Cesc look drunker than he really is.
He goes out for a run the next morning. Exercise is good for a hangover, or so he's heard. And with each step forward he pushes every thought about football away. Arsene, Robin, Barcelona, Xavi, Arsenal. He pushes everything away until all that's left is the sand and the ocean. The wind on his face and the sun that shines just too much.
He grabs orange juice and a pear before taking a shower. Or at least that's what he hopes to because when he get to his room, Gerard is laying on his bed, under his sheets. He's snoring and drooling, so Cesc takes out his phone and sends Puyi a little good morning present.
He flicks Gerard’s ear. “What are you doing here?”
Gerard shuffles the sheets. “You want to get in? We can snuggle.” He says in a mocking tone.
“How did you get in?”
“You gave me a key remember? Last night, after you abandoned me some girls took me to a club. Cesc, we have to go tonight. After I’ve slept of course, and you take a shower. You stink.”
"And you're drooling, how cute."
Gerard scrunches his nose. "David Bisbal is on your top 25 most played, you have no room to judge me."
Cesc punches Gerard before heading to the shower. He sings really loud and off beat.
The girls are hot and the music is loud, and the alcohol is not bad either.
Gerard dances and laughs the same way he’s done since Cesc met him all those years ago.
He kisses some girl and drinks shots of Patron. He kisses Gerard by the bathrooms like a stupid teenager and they walk back to his room giggling and hugging and kissing too, on the elevator.
He misses this, of course, but it’s not enough to come back. Right now, it isn’t. He doesn’t say so, he just kisses and bites and laughs at Gerard’s stupid face he makes when he tells Cesc to just stop tickling him so much.
“You should definitely come back, if only so I can get you drunk like this.”
Cesc runs his hand through Gerard’s hair. “I knew it, you only want me to come back so you can take advantage.”
“Well, it’s about time you knew.”
_
He leaves Ibiza and Geri promises he’ll come visit sometime. He doesn’t ask Cesc to come home, maybe he finally gets it.
_
Arsène calls him to his office.
It's early Saturday morning and Cesc knows, he knows before he knows what this is all about.
If I leave- it would be for Barcelona.
Gerard Pique and Carles Puyol dressing him in red and blue. Making a point to the world.
Cesc is on loan with Arsenal.
"There is an offer" Arsène tells him, "not substantial but there's interest."
Something inside him sinks, it feels like slipping on grass before touching the ball. Fucking gravity.
Arsène looks uncomfortable sitting on the black swiveling chair; portraits of Arsenal legends behind him. Thierry and Eddie and Cesc as well. "The club doesn't want me telling you this, but if you want to leave-"
Cesc shakes his head, he doesn't want to hear it.
"If you want to leave, I can see that it gets done."
And those are the words he thinks he's been waiting to hear for years.
"But if you stay, I want this to be your choice."
To Arsene's credit, he doesn't talk about history, about magic. About the legends of Arsenal. He doesn't say shit about league cup runner-up medals and qualifiers and doesn't tell Cesc he is as much a Gunner as he is a Cule. And Cesc… Cesc doesn't say anything back. He looks at the chipped wooden desk and stays mute.
"Let me know your decision on Monday." Arsène tells him before standing up and patting his back.
So here Cesc starts to think.
He thinks of the voices that sing, cry, scream his name. We've got Fàbregas
No one wants to leave Barcelona, Cesc.
He thinks of the Emirates Stadium and teammates, the yellow band hugging his bicep, red and white.
And he starts to reconsider.
Seven years is too long. Perhaps not in Arsenal time or even Barcelona, but in Cesc Fàbregas time, seven years is too much.
Seven years is too long to come back to Neverland.
_
Sooner than later, the league starts and with that comes winning. Lots of winning (OK some losing too but they're only a couple of points behind Manchester and Chelsea) and Cesc manages to carry with him the high that came with being a World Cup winner.
They're going to win the Premiere League, the FA cup, the Champions League and everything they can get their hands on.
_
Gerard's favorite game these days, consists in sending Cesc random bits of unofficial information he heard from someone or another who was told by someone else.
From: gerard3
50m. will 50 get you to come back?
From: gerard3
those thiago rumors are false
we're keeping #4 for you
From: gerard3
directv has english channels
you can watch wagboutiques
here as well
From: lio
we heard about your injury
hope you recover soon
From: gerard3
our physios would have you running
in no time.
From: gerard3
thiago signing new contract
ooooohh hurry come back
moc moc
"What are you smiling so much about? Is Gerard sending you photos of real estate again?" Robin asks and Cesc opens twitter on his phone instead. @3gerardpique should focus on training instead of bothering friends moc moc
"Give it up Robin, his boyfriend just misses him." Samir says.
Cesc gives him the finger.
"Don't worry though, the captain's not going anywhere. Carlitos is coming back soon." Samir winks at Cesc and he throws a roll of tape at him.
_
He's so sure they will win everything. This is their year.
For every rumor out there that he is coming back home, he scores another goal. He makes another brilliant pass.
Arsène tells him how lucky they are to have him as captain. He makes Cesc feel wanted and needed.
The only thing Barcelona ever did was offer pocket change for him to come back. (And a guaranteed spot on the bench; he's seen just how good Thiago is.)
_
The titles start slipping from him.
First there's the loss against Birmingham. There's more injuries and with that comes losing again and again and again.
They still have the Champions and they slip through the cracks, making it past group stages and into knockouts.
Beating Barcelona doesn't feel as good as Cesc thought it would.
Back in Paris he was crushed, he wanted to win so bad he was willing to take down the team he dreamed so much about. But now? All he feels now is guilt.
"You gave a good speech and all, but I know you didn't really believe we could beat them." Robin says once they're back at the lockers.
From: gerard3
hey come out for dinner with
puyi and i, your treat since you
won and all
"Must have felt good, right captain? You have the upper hand with your boyfriend now."
Cesc just feels like he stole something from the shops at Barnet High only to come home empty handed.
_
And so we come full circle.
Second leg of the knockout round.
Arsenal - Barcelona.
They lose, but you already knew that, and his mind is made up.
When a player would rather go celebrate with his friends, with the team he admires so much, instead of lifting the spirits of his crushed teammates… then the decision is not that hard at all.
Cesc wants to win titles, he wants to score goals that mean something, wants to celebrate with his friends and see his family every other day. If he gets to do that, then fighting to stay off the bench seems like a fair trade off.
He's ready this time, to fight with the brilliant instead of against them. To train under his heroes and alongside them too.
He's ready for Barcelona and all the challenges that come with it.
_
This next part is important, this you should know about.
Before stepping out of the bus, Cesc looks at Arsène and shakes his head.
Arsène is not stupid, he knows and Cesc knows he knows.
"We'll talk monday OK?"
Cesc lowers his gaze and tells him it's fine.
_
“I knew it was a matter of time.” Arsène tells him.
He’s back at his office, back to a conversation that didn’t quite end almost a year ago. The difference is, he is ready now. He’s ready to face a new challenge.
“But the club is not lowering the price. 50£, and you’re worth it Cesc.”
Cesc knows, deep down inside everything, that Barcelona won’t put up with that much cash to bring home one of their own. But his mind is made up, he’ll give up his own money if it means he gets to go back.
“I don’t know-” He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to sound ungrateful.
The truth of things is, Cesc Fàbregas is who he is thanks to Arsène.
“I’ll talk with the club, see if something can be done. But Cesc-” Arsène looks him in the eye, really looks at him. “Please try and keep this between us, for now. The team doesn’t need to think about this just yet.”
“I won’t mention it. You have my word.”
So it’s set, this is the start of the end. There’s no going back. Cesc is going back home.
_
He phones his sister, his mom and his dad. There’s no offer or deal, for all he knows Arsenal won’t lower his price, but he’s started to put things in motion. He wants to go back. And how can someone want something this much and not get it?
“All I’m saying, is you don’t need an excuse to get drunk. You’re off tomorrow right? Or has Arsène put you on lockdown again?”
Cesc chops onions and celery while balancing the phone between his shoulder and neck. “If you were here then I could get drunk and blame it on you.”
“No- if you were here then we could get drunk and just blame it on Puyi.”
“I’d need an apartment. You still have the number for that real estate agent you sent a while back?”
Gerard doesn’t say anything.
“Know anyone who could get me a good deal on a car?”
“You’re mocking me, I get it.”
“No, Geri- listen. Don’t say anything, don’t tell anyone just yet, but there’s a chance I may come back.”
_
The negotiations are tough and it weighs on him, more than knowing he won’t ever win the Premiere League.
He’s come so close, so many times.
And that will always stay with him, the fact that he never got to lift any trophies with this team.
_
Transfer season begins and with it, more media speculation, his face on all mayor news sites. His teammates, the fans, everyone asking for answers.
Cesc avoids them altogether. He’s been instructed to keep his mouth shut and besides, he doesn’t know any more than what everyone reads.
“It doesn’t look good.” Arsène tells him. Once again, they meet in his office. Cesc feels like he’s cheating on someone.
“35M, that’s all they’re willing to give.”
It’s not even half of what Arsenal’s asking for him. Of what Arsène said he was worth.
“The club won’t go any lower than 40. I know your mind is set, and I’m not asking for you to reconsider this-”
“I’ll cover the rest.” Cesc knows all about Mascherano’s transfer deal from last year. And he wants, he wants to go back so bad.
It was never about the money, or the spoils. He could have asked for a raise, fuck, he could have accepted that outrageous bid form Madrid. Florentino probably would have thrown in a nice mansion and car deal his way. But no, this is about making his dream happen.
He won’t let it slip away this time.
_
The worse part is, keeping everything a secret from the team.
Samir blabs away to the dailymail and Theo calls Cesc with anger in his voice. He wants his captain to do something about it. He wants to know if he’s thinking about leaving as well.
Cesc tells Theo to stop paying too much attention at stupid transfer rumors and it feels like he’s twisting a knife no Gunner knows they’re carrying around their backs. It's not like he's lying.
But it seems to calm everyone down.
Until, that is, Arsenal leave on their Asian pre-season tour and Cesc decides partying in Ibiza with Gerard and Puyi sounds more appealing.
_
He checks all their scores on his phone, while Gerard and Puyol throw sand on his face and kick a football around.
They- Arsenal does good, and after their last game Robin calls.
“You didn’t watch, did you?”
Cesc squints at the sun. “No, but I checked the score on my mobile. You guys did good.” You don’t need me, you’ll do just fine, he wants to say.
“Yeah, I have a good feeling about this season.”
He takes another sip from his ridiculous cocktail. “Puyi got me some pink drink on a dare, but pink drinks are OK right? I’ve seen you drink cosmos with Bouchra.”
“Say you’re not leaving.”
The words hit him like a cold bucket of ice. “Robin, you know I can’t talk about any of it.” He says in a flat tone.
“Don’t give me bullshit excuses. Say you’ll be with us next season.”
“I have to go.” He hangs up the phone, chugs his stupid cocktail and tells the bartender he needs another round of tequila.
_
Gerard texts and calls and e-mails every ten minutes. It would be annoying, if he didn’t seem so genuinely excited for Cesc.
From: gerard3
hurry upppppp and don’t
say you have to pack
all your shit. people can do
that for you these days
From: gerard3
i promise i’ll love your stupid
dog. just dont change your
mind
“First team, can you believe we’ll all be together on the first team?”
Cesc lays on the rug while his dog, Chloe, licks powder sugar remains off his fingertips. “If something doesn’t get in the way.”
“It’s practically done, you can’t do anything about it. You’re coming back.”
“I don’t want to jinx anything.”
From: gerard3
oooohh moc moc
look whose wearing your #
better hurry
thiago.jpg
From: gerard3
it’s a pre-season thing
don’t cry
From: puyi
nanuuuuu so it’s true?
From: gerard3
ceeeeesc i was joking
answer your phone
“You’re insufferable. And you wonder why I left all those years ago.” Cesc’s at the grocery store, contemplating whether he should buy another bottle or shampoo or just do with what he has back at his apartment.
“Right, better tell Rosell to give up some bonus for dealing with me now that you’re back.”
He dumps a small bottle of Suave on the shopping cart. “Yeah, one million per Champions, one per La Liga, and dump three more just for having to stand Gerard.”
At this, Gerard laughs. “Fuck, we’re going to win everything. You’ll see.”
_
He’s back at Arsène’s office, one last time.
There’s papers he needs to sign and the inevitable goodbye.
Cesc’s been so happy, ever since the phone call letting him know that yes, Barcelona and Arsenal came to an agreement, that he didn’t have time to think about saying goodbye.
He tried really hard, not to think about this. Saying goodbye to Arsène is like losing a limb, and Cesc wonders if he’ll miss it, if he’ll get that ghost feeling people always talk about.
Arsène doesn’t give him any meaningful parting last words, he twists his mouth and nods at Cesc.
“I just- I want to say-” But Cesc doesn’t know what to say. He swallows his tears and just puts his arms around Arsène. “Thank you, thank you so much for everything.” And those are the only words that matter.
Cesc Fàbregas owes everything and more to him. The man who found him, who believed in a stupid 16 year old with a funny nose and so much desire to play. Arsène is not only the one who taught Cesc about football, who made him captain of a team filled with magic, he’s also the one who made his dream come true.
_
He doesn’t believe it. He tries really hard to hide all the joy in his face.
And then he’s there, shaking hands with Rosell and posing outside the club.
He’s picking up his uniform and has to almost pinch himself when he looks at the back of his jersey.
Fàbregas 4.
One day, you will be Barcelona’s #4
The fans scream his name and he is just so happy. His family is there too and Cesc wants to run, cry, scream, laugh, smile with them.
He kisses the crest. Once, twice and once more just because he can.
The waiting is bitter, but it makes the rewards much sweeter Arsène once told him, and he was right. He was so fucking right.
_
Madrid, at home. Camp Nou.
This is how Cesc Fàbregas debuts with his team. His team.
The dressing room seems much more intimidating now. Iniesta is there, and Xavi and Puyi and Villa.
Gerard is there too, and he pinches Cesc’s arm before wrapping both arms around him. “You’re here.”
And Cesc nods.
There’s nothing else left to say.
_
So this is what Francesc Fàbregas i Soler (both the player and person) has come to learn after 8 years:
That if you wait just enough, get to a place where you stop running away, dreams stop becoming just dreams. They finally become attainable. That things change and people leave, but that's just the nature of life. That he's a cule at heart, he's made up of Barca DNA. That he may no longer be a Gunner, but he'll always be a Gooner.
That sometimes, you can come back to Neverland, and it will feel like you never left to begin with.
That it's hard to play seamlessly, and even harder to let go of some things.
That, at 24, he has so much to learn, so much to fight for.
That he'll throw some faulty passes, and make mediocre calls, but he'll also score. And Lio will be there, and Puyol. And Gerard will make that stupid face and pull on his ear a little too hard. And it will feel like the happiest and only ending possible.
"You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it."
-Peter Pan
end.
futbol rpf. cesc fabregas et all. (cesc/pique but barely ha)
the epic saga that is cescgate, from barcelona to london to barcelona again. plus a few stupid texts, sacrilegious slogans, a couple of punches and more references to peter pan than are necessary. 8,078 words (lies).
written entirely for/with erica_lopeezy who put up not only with the many drafts of this stupid fic but also gave me the best feedback ever, read all 40 pages more times than anyone should and helped me research arsenal just enough to make this happen.
(there's probably some (a lot) of chronological inaccuracies but i really didn't know shit about arsenal. i tried my best. and well fuck it. this is fiction and i make my own cannon dammit)
“Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting."
-Peter Pan
One minute he is stopping Robin from getting into a fight with Busquets and the next he is giving the ball away just outside the area when- Andres Iniesta collects it, lets his feet find Lio, who, with one touch manages to retain enough balance to shoot… and score.
It's a great goal but a body blow for Arsenal, for Cesc.
This, Cesc Fàbregas has come to expect. Barcelona with their tiki-taka and 80% ball possession. And Arsenal, well Arsenal is just going to grab whatever the fuck they can get.
But as he's come to learn, even in the darkest of times there's still moments of magic.
Robin takes the corner and, although Diaby goes for it, the ball goes straight into the net courtesy of Sergio Busquets' head.
So maybe it's not magic, it's luck. But at this point, Cesc Fàbregas will take whatever he can.
And then-
Xavi scores.
Robin gets carded.
Messi scores.
The whistle blows, and Arsenal are out of the Champions League.
Cesc just feels like shit. He curses at himself, at his team, at the fans who won't stop screaming Barca, Barca, Baaaaaarca!, at the pocket of broken fans right at the top of the Camp Nou. He looks straight ahead, at the people celebrating, at his friends. Smiling, jumping, screaming.
And he smiles.
Robin kicks the asphalt.
If you need a Big Defining Moment in the Cesc Fàbregas Saga, this is it. This is the moment something inside Cesc snapps. So take note, because this is the moment where everything changes.
_
But that's getting too far ahead, track back, let's rewind.
Long before Arsenal, before let's talk about Cesc, baby and we've got Fàbregas, Cesc had a team and dreams of his own. He spent years not losing a game with Barcelona's youth academy. He lived in his own bubble.
3-4-3, Leo behind the forwards, Gerard as centre back, and Cesc? Cesc as the axis upon which the team hinged. 3-4-3, the Dream Team.
Receive, pass, offer, receive, pass, offer- the Barca foundations etched into his brain.
Corner kick to Gerard and gol, Borrell yelling next time you decide to take an excursion, don't forget your backpack!
He spent his nights playing ProEvo tournaments with Lio and made fun of Gerard's tantrums when he would lose (which was often). Cesc had friends who felt like his own blood. They felt like family. And he knew, he could feel it in the Barca DNA flowing through his veins, he was exactly where he was meant to be.
La Masía was a place where dreams happened.
La Masía was Neverland.
_
"London it is then?" Gerard asks over the phone.
"You heard?"
"We all heard."
He doesn't say anything and picks at the label of an empty strawberry yogurt cup.
"You'll need driving lessons."
"And English as well."
They're past all the whys; too obvious, too painful.
"Shit, London."
"Better than some no-name club in the middle of fucking Russia."
Gerard snickers. "Still, London."
Cesc doesn't know what to say. His mind is made up; if he can't break into the first team in red and blue he'll do it in red and white.
"Hey it's almost dinner, but- come around this weekend, we'll give you a proper send off."
Before the line goes dead he says in a flat tone. "Does Lio-?"
"He hasn't said anything."
_
We'll save you all the trouble of guessing and let you know that while yes, Lio-Gerard-Cesc were inseparable (the Baby Dream Team), Cesc Fàbregas and Gerard Pique roomed together for a reason. So that call, you see- that call is more than just the parting of friends.
_
He doesn't get grand notions of living an extravagant life, upon arriving at London. He shares a flat with Philippe (who has a bigger room than his, fucker) and Noreen is kind enough to drive him around the city and back and forth from the pitch and his English lessons.
One of these days, he'll learn how to drive.
His room is tiny and he spends his days off the pitch playing PlayStation on the tiny TV he's got in his room. It's a long way from La Masía. From ping pong tournaments with Gerard and Lio and eating his meals on the giant tables, talking about fútbol until they're all out of breath. And while he's made acquaintances with the team he spends most weekends alone, staring at the TV.
Philippe drags him out one Saturday. They visit the shops at Barnet High street and rent Spanish movies from BlockBuster.
It's tough, thinking about his friends back home. Gerard calls and texts and e-mails about the food and the weather and the clubs he almost went into last weekend before deciding on that stupid party someone was throwing. All while Cesc sits around and wonders what the hell he is doing so far away.
This was his decision though, nobody put a bullet to his head.
So he makes the best of it. He stays longer at training with Lauren and learns a couple of tricks from him. He shows Arsène and everyone just how eager he is to play.
"The waiting, it's bitter I know," Arsène tells him long after training is over, "but it makes the rewards much sweeter."
_
At Arsenal his goal is set:
Make the first team and show everyone at Barcelona just how brilliant he can be. Yeah, that'll show them.
Arsène tells him patience but Cesc is done being patient. He's tired of waiting around for Xavi to stop being brilliant and Iniesta to start making faulty passes.
He's been taught how to pass and think fast, to seek open opportunities and not be selfish with the ball.
No one really spoke about patience back home.
So he trains hard and then some more. He takes English lessons and stops talking Spanish with Philippe, on and off the pitch. He trains hard and tries harder, he wants to show the world just what he's capable of.
And then at sixteen, he finally steps up from the bench. It's at that moment that he realizes some things.
- He's made the right choice.
- Arsène believes in him, he has a vision for Cesc.
- Everyone knows what happens when the Lost Kids grow up
_
He earns a spot on the team. He runs his heart out and makes brilliant passes.
And mediocre ones too.
Viera doesn't yell, and Cesc doesn’t understand.
"You're only 17. You have 15 or 20 seasons ahead of you, it's impossible to perform top level every time, Cesc. Those people out there, the ones that demand that- they don't know the game. What matters is you give 100% and know, that you may not get 100% back. But you shouldn't beat yourself up over it. You just keep working hard."
Cesc wants to yell and tell him he doesn't know shit. Look at Barcelona, look at Iniesta. How can Viera see that and still talk about impossible.
_
Titi nudges his arm. "There's no club in the world like this." He says, pointing at the fans.
We're by far, the greatest team the world has ever seen.
"Trust me, you'll fall in love then never want to leave." He tells Cesc in a mixture broken English and Spanish.
Yeah, that's what he's afraid of.
_
They move from Highbury to the Emirates and everything feels intimidating.
The pitch is bigger and while yes, the fans still sing their heart out, still sing about Thierry and Flamini, they feel far away.
Cesc is just glad he got to experience nights at Highbury. Because Highbury is full of memories he'll never forget. Like hearing people sing his name for the first time. Fàbregas, Fàbregas woah woah.
He may miss everything about Barcelona, but he's never felt homesick on the pitch.
_
With time, he learns that he can fall in love with football again. Barcelona sure means home, but Arsenal means playing, passing the ball back and forth and sometimes scoring too. It means the fans singing his name out the top of their lungs.
It means making first team.
If there was ever a doubt (and there was, all the time) that he'd made the right choice, then the magical nights playing in red were enough reassurance.
It may not be Camp Nou, Neverland, but this is good.
This is enough.
_
Philippe complains about the singing program Cesc is not really paying attention to when his mobile starts to ring.
"Hey, you're going to get that?" Philippe asks, throwing a carrot that lands next to him.
"What- yeah." He's tired, his bones hurt, not to mention- Wegner's been riding him the whole week, trying to make him understand that it doesn't matter who you are, where you're from, who you trained under, the ball is always quicker than the legs. So pass the fucking ball when your teammate is asking.
"England, sell it to me."
"What?"
"Come on Cesc, help a friend out. Tell me it's great this time of the year."
Cesc, confused and half asleep, starts babbling about the Thames and cobbled streets, the crisp wind that cuts through everything, the gardens, the people, "and the food's not so bad. I still have tupperware from my grandmother but, there's sushi. Good sushi- wait, I thought you said you couldn't come up next week."
Gerard makes a sound and starts laughing. Cesc just feels like he's missed the joke.
"Not everything is about you, idiot. United, they've been calling."
He picks the carrot next to him and digs his fingernails into it. "You serious?"
Manchester.
Cristiano Ronaldo.
Ferdinand.
Manc.
England.
"Well I want to play, and they seem interested enough."
"Manchester's not that far, we'll get to hang out and I'll beat you at ping pong-"
Gerard quickly interrupts. "You'll never beat me at ping pong. But shut up, this isn't about you. This is about playing."
"You're seriously considering this, you really want to leave?"
There's silence, and a few seconds feel like minutes.
"Did you?"
Cesc doesn't answer.
_
Three weeks after, Gerard comes visit.
Any day now, his transfer will be final. He'll be a Manc (Cesc's stomach hurls at the thought), he'll be in England.
Cesc is still shit at driving, but that doesn't stop him from picking him up at the airport.
They get sushi on their way back and Cesc talks all to fast, too much, like he's been keeping all his Catala and Spanish bottled up.
"Fuck, you sure you're allowed to drive this?" Gerard says after Cesc goes through a red light and a couple of cars honk at them.
"Shut up, I think we're lost." Cesc snaps. The car behind them honks in irritation, and Gerard sinks into his own seat. Like the bitch is embarrassed to be seen with Cesc.
"We're lost? You are lost. Just- just drive straight." He says, gesturing the empty road.
"I hate you sometimes." Cesc bitches.
At this, Gerard laughs. "Better than to hate fucking me, I guess."
"Shut up or I'll kick your ass when we get home." Cesc says as he takes a left. Finally, a street he recognizes.
"This may be your town, but you still punch like a girl."
Cesc looks right and left and then punches Gerard on the shoulder. It makes his knuckles hurt.
A car honks behind them once more and Cesc reacts by turning right, almost crashing into a mini cooper.
Gerard laughs all the way home.
_
Cesc and Gerard fight like brothers most of the time, with all the kicks and punches and ear pulling. They bring each other down in order to build each other up. Their coaches and teammates may sneer at the bruises and pulled muscles, but it's the rhythm they've gotten used to.
Except.
Except when they fight like lovers.
Pay attention now, the plot is about to thicken.
"Think you'll get used to England?" Cesc asks, laying down on the couch while Gerard sits on the floor with his back against it. He's playing FIFA, Barcelona - Arsenal. Xavi just tackled Cesc.
"I'll survive."
"More than that, you saw how nice it's here." He elbows the back of Gerard's head. "We'll be an hour away."
"Make a name for ourselves, show everyone back home how good we are, blah blah blah. I know, I know." FIFA-Xavi scores and Gerard laughs. "One day though, we'll be back. Trust me."
Cesc wants to believe him. Hell, even FIFA-Cesc wants to believe him, but he knows better by now. He's not doing bad himself here.
"You do want to go back, right?"
Cesc doesn't say anything back. He thinks about warm summer nights in Barcelona, the Mini Estadi, playing with Lio on the halls of La Masía, sneaking around the trophy room. He's too old to go back.
"Don't you miss home? Your family, friends, Lio? Don't you want to go back to Catalunya?"
To his defense, Cesc regrets the words even as they're leaving his mouth.
"Catalunya es mes que un club."
FIFA-Cesc scores, but Gerard doesn't say anything. He doesn't move or blink.
He's gone the next morning.
_
They knock out Madrid, Juventus and Villareal.
And Cesc finds himself at the Stade de France in Paris, starting at a Champions League final.
Against Barcelona.
Against Iniesta and Puyol and Valdes.
He thinks he'll hurl next to the toilet, wait for the acid reflux to come out, he'll have to tie his boots twice, just to make sure he's ready. But in the locker room, Titi assures them they're the best team in the world. They deserve to be here. If they stick to their foundation, if they play honor, humility and hunger, the pieces will fall into place. Cesc believes his captain, he believes the fans who sing Arsenal are magic, they're got some magic kids.
But-
Lehmann gets red carded.
Titi can speak about magic all he wants, but in his gut Cesc knows there's no way of beating Barcelona with ten men.
_
Titi warned him, he would fall in love. It's true, he loves the fans that sing his name and wear his jersey with pride. He's fallen in love with the english way and his teammates. And Arsène, whose done nothing but be patient with him, who believed in a stupid 16 year old who had desire to play. Barcelona may have set the foundation, but Arsène's the one who cultivated his talent.
But then-
Titi fucks off to Barcelona and Cesc feels like this is what going insane must feel like.
He says how much he’s sorry, but Cesc still doesn’t get it.
“You can come too, you know.”
Cesc wants to punch him straight on the jaw. “I’m going to lead this team into victory.”
Titi smiles at him. “I know you will.”
He gives him a pat on the back and tells him good luck. He curses at the photographs and kicks away his cleats.
And then he decides, if he can't go to Barcelona himself, he'll do so with Arsenal.
_
Will they ever, will they ever, will they ever win the league.
The fans scream.
"The fans out there, they'll travel anywhere for you. They'll never stop singing our name, so let's show them what we're capable of."
But just like that, Arsenal drops out of the Champions League.
_
There's offers, of course, Real Madrid and Liverpool and a number of clubs who finally see just how brilliant he can be.
He laughs it off, sings a new contract that will allow him to stay for years and years to come, maybe even for life.
When he tells Arsène, "Don't bring the bids up, I don't want to know" he means it.
Arsenal finally means home.
_
The lack of titles is a low, but then he scores with La Roja and assists El Niño to score… and Cesc feels like the best player in the world.
_
Sky Sports tell him.
Not his friends, not his family, not Lio. Sky Fucking Sports.
It's written across the scrolling banner at the bottom of the screen.
"Former Cule returns home: Manchester United and Barcelona reach agreement over centre back Gerard Pique."
He's happy of course, so he picks up the phone.
To: gerard3
if you're going to be on tv
then wear something nice.
Ten minutes go by before his phone chimes.
From: gerard3
haaaaaaa i knew you
were watching
Gerard wears that stupid Inspector Gadget trench and it sends Cesc into a laughing fit. Philippe would probably complain about the noise, but Cesc's been long gone from there. He's got an apartment of his own, with a big pool and floor-to-ceiling windows that fill the rooms with sunlight. His got his own home.
Long after the contract signing and presentation, after Cesc's already laughed at the silly cartoon with Gerard's stupid face, he dials his number.
"You looked good, happy. And I'm happy for you."
Gerard mumbles something to someone or another then says goodbye. "Sorry. Hey, I'll call you back later yeah? You still coming home for the summer?"
Home.
"Yeah." Cesc knows, and so does Gerard, there are a lot of things that could be said here, but if they're not said they can't be twisted into something wrong, cruel, violent, so he says congratulations and hangs up the phone.
He's happy of course. But for the record, he's also bitter.
_
Lio calls a week after that. He rarely calls and Cesc thinks he must be busy most of the time. He’s got too much on his plate, too much to fight for and prove.
Cesc was there when he first came, when people would mock him for not talking and taking long trips to the infirmary. Gerard was there too, of course, and together they kicked, punched, yelled at anyone who would so much as mention the growth hormones. They were there to gain enough of his trust that one day, out of nowhere, Lio came out of his shell and shared just about everything with them.
They don’t talk much these days, but you should probably know that Cesc misses Lio just as much as he misses Gerard.
“Remember that time we were away in Rome?” Lio asks Cesc.
Cesc remebers, he remembers everything. “You punched Geri for hiding your shin pads.”
Lio laughs. “And I said when we all made first team, I would cut off the sleeves from his jerseys.”
So that’s why he called. Gerard’s only been back for a week and already he’s running to Lio and asking him to do his dirty work. “We always thought maybe one of us would break first team.”
Deep down, he always knew just how brilliant Lio could be.
“But now there’s two of us here and you-”
Cesc doesn’t want to hear it. He’s happy for both of them, maybe still a bit bitter about it, but he’s moved on. He’s got people who never doubted him, people who trust him enough not to fuck up. ”I’m doing just as well here.”
“I’m not saying-”
Cesc cuts him off again. “I know what you’re saying, and I want you to know I am happy here. And I’m happy for both of you.”
“That’s all that matters, but when we meet at Camp Nou you better bring the scissors.”
_
When Cesc was 13 and his world was crushing down (courtesy of a nasty divorce), Borell got Pep Guardiola to sign a #4 barca jersey for him.
One day, you will be Barcelona’s #4
The shirt is back at his father’s apartment, tucked away with all the trophies and medals he won as a child.
One day.
One day.
One day.
He’s not waiting for that day to come, he’s come a long way from that.
He clings instead to another promise.
Arsène may not be Pep Guardiola, but he’s kept his end of the deal.
Cesc is now captain, he’s #4 all on his own.
_
Barcelona goes out to win just about everything and then some more.
Gerard and Lio call drunk off champagne and beer and who knows what else. Cesc doesn’t want to be rude, he’s happy for his friends and he’s happy for their club, so he listens to their slurs and laughs when Lio tells him next time he comes over he has to try some tequila beer juice whatever.
“Cesc, Cesc, you should be out drinking too.” Gerard practically yells at him, he’s still out and people are still singing and celebrating around him.
“Some of us have things to do tomorrow morning. Prior commitments.”
Gerard says something to Lio that Cesc can't really understand. Then his voice gets deeper, like he's cupping his mobile. "You still there? Hey listen and remember this because I won't. We miss you and want you to come back. Or well, Lio misses you and I just really want you here. With me- us. Shit, hello?"
Without even thinking about it, he hangs up the phone.
It's one thing for Gerard to bring up Barca DNA and resort to using Lio, but to say he misses him, Cesc Fàbregas, not the player but the person… some things Cesc just doesn't want to think about.
_
He doesn't win shit again.
Robin tries to cheer him up by bringing him sweets and pastries and Cesc wants to scream. How can someone be so nice to him after he's done nothing but knock his team from every chance of silverware?
"We'll get our break. We're young Cesc, our time will come."
Cesc doesn't feel young. He's beaten and while Arsène's kept true to his promise, seven years is too long to wait for a trophy. For anything.
_
In South Africa, Gerard and Puyol and even Xavi won't shut up about him finally coming home.
He knew it, as soon as he said the words If I leave, it would be to Barcelona this shitstorm would start. But he was caught off guard; it was wishful thinking. Of course he wouldn’t leave this team. His team.
Seven years waiting for medals and titles is too long, but he’s not about to quit just because someone started some rumors about Barcelona wanting to bring back one of their own.
What he meant to say was,
If he ever wanted to leave, some day down the road, it would be for Barcelona.
Of course it would be for them, Cesc would never dare dream about another team. Because sometimes he dreams. He dreams of playing in blaugrana, of scoring goals at Camp Nou, setting a pass for Lio or Iniesta or even Xavi himself and letting them score. He dreams of the warm weather and drinking stupid cocktails with Gerard. Planting pranks on Pedro and beating Sergio at Parchese.
That’s all it is, a dream.
Arsenal may not be Neverland, but they have their own kind of magic.
_
“I know losing is your thing, but you better get used to winning now that you’re coming back.” Gerard tells him after their first match. A horrible loss to Switzerland.
“You don’t even know if I’m coming back. I don’t even know if I want to come back.”
Gerard pulls at his ear and slaps his arm. “What the fuck are you on about, of course you want to come back.”
Cesc punches his shoulder, hard. “Even if I did, it’s not up to me.”
“Stop acting like this isn’t up to you. I know you have ways of getting what you want.” Gerard wraps his arms around Cesc for a second before slapping his cheek and running of to Puyol.
_
Ramos and Navas take just about 400€ from him and Gerard at dominoes.
Cesc would much rather go take a nap than give away his money just because Gerard is too scared to yell at Navas for being a cheat. So when they ask him to come play for the third time around, he politely declines.
Gerard knocks on his door before he can fetch his pill bottle.
“What are you doing here?”
“Puyi’s off at some captains meeting and Javi is even worse than you at dominoes. Don’t ever let me partner up with him again, write that down.”
“Then go off to play pocha with Arbeloa and Raúl.”
Gerard makes a face, and Cesc knows he’s about to talk bollocks again. “You’re still moping around because of what I said. Fine, don’t come back. Stay at Arsenal if that’s what you want.”
That, Cesc wasn’t expecting.
“Just don’t take one of your stupid pills to knock yourself down and come let me kick your ass at ping pong.”
Cesc punches him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m not playing for 70€, 20 or I’m staying here.”
“90.”
He flicks Gerard’s ear. “That’s not how it works, idiot.”
“Fine.” Gerard exhales before he leans down and kisses Cesc straight on the mouth, in the sloppiest of ways.
Cesc pulls at his ears and slaps Gerard twice for good measure before letting go.
Stupid Gerard and his stupid incentives; Cesc would much rather pretend to lose at ping pong if it means Gerard will kiss him again than playing some stupid card game with Javi and Pepe.
_
"This team can do such amazing things, Cesc and you're part of it. Just relish it." Puyol tells him once they're done training for the day.
"I shouldn't complain about play time, I know."
"But you just want a chance. I get it."
Gerard may say he understands, but he doesn't. Cesc wants to play, it's all he knows how to do. Puyi, on the other hand, he gets it.
He stops bringing up Barcelona after that.
_
The reality of things is this:
Cesc get barely any play time. El mister and Toni and just about everyone tell him to be patient, his time will come. So he trains, loses more money to Arbeloa and Raúl and gets a grand total of 25 minutes of actual playing time.
Then.
They're at Soccer City. The fans scream and sing and the drums sound louder than usual.
The reality of things is he sets up the pass that inevitably gives Spain the win.
_
The final whistle blows and before he can go jump, scream, run, drink, he finds Robin. And in that moment, everything is so clear, he wants to say sorry, I'm sorry, sorry because Robin should know what it feels like to win.
Cesc Fàbregas the person may want to come home after all those years, but Cesc Fàbregas the player? He wants to bring his team to victory.
_
The media goes crazy, after Gerard and Puyol pull off that stupid stunt. Naturally, his name is everywhere.
Culebron.
Cescgate.
Arsenal keeping him against his will.
Barca DNA.
Arsène is the devil.
He's advised to keep his mouth shut (and you should know, it's not the first time, and it won't be the last), so when Gerard invites him along to Ibiza he throws some clothes into a suitcase and says fuck it to everything else.
_
Gerard’s already drunk by the time Cesc arrives at the hotel.
He’s drinking some mint melon whatever-thing from a glass goblet and almost trips on his own feet when he greets Cesc.
“You’re here- you came but hey- drink this, it’s good right? Hey, there’s no moping here, deal?”
Cesc shakes his head, he doesn’t want to think about anything but the beach, hot girls, drinks and his best friend.
Gerard, on the other hand, spends most of his time making fun of Cesc's taste in music and taking photos from horrible angles that make Cesc look drunker than he really is.
He goes out for a run the next morning. Exercise is good for a hangover, or so he's heard. And with each step forward he pushes every thought about football away. Arsene, Robin, Barcelona, Xavi, Arsenal. He pushes everything away until all that's left is the sand and the ocean. The wind on his face and the sun that shines just too much.
He grabs orange juice and a pear before taking a shower. Or at least that's what he hopes to because when he get to his room, Gerard is laying on his bed, under his sheets. He's snoring and drooling, so Cesc takes out his phone and sends Puyi a little good morning present.
He flicks Gerard’s ear. “What are you doing here?”
Gerard shuffles the sheets. “You want to get in? We can snuggle.” He says in a mocking tone.
“How did you get in?”
“You gave me a key remember? Last night, after you abandoned me some girls took me to a club. Cesc, we have to go tonight. After I’ve slept of course, and you take a shower. You stink.”
"And you're drooling, how cute."
Gerard scrunches his nose. "David Bisbal is on your top 25 most played, you have no room to judge me."
Cesc punches Gerard before heading to the shower. He sings really loud and off beat.
The girls are hot and the music is loud, and the alcohol is not bad either.
Gerard dances and laughs the same way he’s done since Cesc met him all those years ago.
He kisses some girl and drinks shots of Patron. He kisses Gerard by the bathrooms like a stupid teenager and they walk back to his room giggling and hugging and kissing too, on the elevator.
He misses this, of course, but it’s not enough to come back. Right now, it isn’t. He doesn’t say so, he just kisses and bites and laughs at Gerard’s stupid face he makes when he tells Cesc to just stop tickling him so much.
“You should definitely come back, if only so I can get you drunk like this.”
Cesc runs his hand through Gerard’s hair. “I knew it, you only want me to come back so you can take advantage.”
“Well, it’s about time you knew.”
_
He leaves Ibiza and Geri promises he’ll come visit sometime. He doesn’t ask Cesc to come home, maybe he finally gets it.
_
Arsène calls him to his office.
It's early Saturday morning and Cesc knows, he knows before he knows what this is all about.
If I leave- it would be for Barcelona.
Gerard Pique and Carles Puyol dressing him in red and blue. Making a point to the world.
Cesc is on loan with Arsenal.
"There is an offer" Arsène tells him, "not substantial but there's interest."
Something inside him sinks, it feels like slipping on grass before touching the ball. Fucking gravity.
Arsène looks uncomfortable sitting on the black swiveling chair; portraits of Arsenal legends behind him. Thierry and Eddie and Cesc as well. "The club doesn't want me telling you this, but if you want to leave-"
Cesc shakes his head, he doesn't want to hear it.
"If you want to leave, I can see that it gets done."
And those are the words he thinks he's been waiting to hear for years.
"But if you stay, I want this to be your choice."
To Arsene's credit, he doesn't talk about history, about magic. About the legends of Arsenal. He doesn't say shit about league cup runner-up medals and qualifiers and doesn't tell Cesc he is as much a Gunner as he is a Cule. And Cesc… Cesc doesn't say anything back. He looks at the chipped wooden desk and stays mute.
"Let me know your decision on Monday." Arsène tells him before standing up and patting his back.
So here Cesc starts to think.
He thinks of the voices that sing, cry, scream his name. We've got Fàbregas
No one wants to leave Barcelona, Cesc.
He thinks of the Emirates Stadium and teammates, the yellow band hugging his bicep, red and white.
And he starts to reconsider.
Seven years is too long. Perhaps not in Arsenal time or even Barcelona, but in Cesc Fàbregas time, seven years is too much.
Seven years is too long to come back to Neverland.
_
Sooner than later, the league starts and with that comes winning. Lots of winning (OK some losing too but they're only a couple of points behind Manchester and Chelsea) and Cesc manages to carry with him the high that came with being a World Cup winner.
They're going to win the Premiere League, the FA cup, the Champions League and everything they can get their hands on.
_
Gerard's favorite game these days, consists in sending Cesc random bits of unofficial information he heard from someone or another who was told by someone else.
From: gerard3
50m. will 50 get you to come back?
From: gerard3
those thiago rumors are false
we're keeping #4 for you
From: gerard3
directv has english channels
you can watch wagboutiques
here as well
From: lio
we heard about your injury
hope you recover soon
From: gerard3
our physios would have you running
in no time.
From: gerard3
thiago signing new contract
ooooohh hurry come back
moc moc
"What are you smiling so much about? Is Gerard sending you photos of real estate again?" Robin asks and Cesc opens twitter on his phone instead. @3gerardpique should focus on training instead of bothering friends moc moc
"Give it up Robin, his boyfriend just misses him." Samir says.
Cesc gives him the finger.
"Don't worry though, the captain's not going anywhere. Carlitos is coming back soon." Samir winks at Cesc and he throws a roll of tape at him.
_
He's so sure they will win everything. This is their year.
For every rumor out there that he is coming back home, he scores another goal. He makes another brilliant pass.
Arsène tells him how lucky they are to have him as captain. He makes Cesc feel wanted and needed.
The only thing Barcelona ever did was offer pocket change for him to come back. (And a guaranteed spot on the bench; he's seen just how good Thiago is.)
_
The titles start slipping from him.
First there's the loss against Birmingham. There's more injuries and with that comes losing again and again and again.
They still have the Champions and they slip through the cracks, making it past group stages and into knockouts.
Beating Barcelona doesn't feel as good as Cesc thought it would.
Back in Paris he was crushed, he wanted to win so bad he was willing to take down the team he dreamed so much about. But now? All he feels now is guilt.
"You gave a good speech and all, but I know you didn't really believe we could beat them." Robin says once they're back at the lockers.
From: gerard3
hey come out for dinner with
puyi and i, your treat since you
won and all
"Must have felt good, right captain? You have the upper hand with your boyfriend now."
Cesc just feels like he stole something from the shops at Barnet High only to come home empty handed.
_
And so we come full circle.
Second leg of the knockout round.
Arsenal - Barcelona.
They lose, but you already knew that, and his mind is made up.
When a player would rather go celebrate with his friends, with the team he admires so much, instead of lifting the spirits of his crushed teammates… then the decision is not that hard at all.
Cesc wants to win titles, he wants to score goals that mean something, wants to celebrate with his friends and see his family every other day. If he gets to do that, then fighting to stay off the bench seems like a fair trade off.
He's ready this time, to fight with the brilliant instead of against them. To train under his heroes and alongside them too.
He's ready for Barcelona and all the challenges that come with it.
_
This next part is important, this you should know about.
Before stepping out of the bus, Cesc looks at Arsène and shakes his head.
Arsène is not stupid, he knows and Cesc knows he knows.
"We'll talk monday OK?"
Cesc lowers his gaze and tells him it's fine.
_
“I knew it was a matter of time.” Arsène tells him.
He’s back at his office, back to a conversation that didn’t quite end almost a year ago. The difference is, he is ready now. He’s ready to face a new challenge.
“But the club is not lowering the price. 50£, and you’re worth it Cesc.”
Cesc knows, deep down inside everything, that Barcelona won’t put up with that much cash to bring home one of their own. But his mind is made up, he’ll give up his own money if it means he gets to go back.
“I don’t know-” He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to sound ungrateful.
The truth of things is, Cesc Fàbregas is who he is thanks to Arsène.
“I’ll talk with the club, see if something can be done. But Cesc-” Arsène looks him in the eye, really looks at him. “Please try and keep this between us, for now. The team doesn’t need to think about this just yet.”
“I won’t mention it. You have my word.”
So it’s set, this is the start of the end. There’s no going back. Cesc is going back home.
_
He phones his sister, his mom and his dad. There’s no offer or deal, for all he knows Arsenal won’t lower his price, but he’s started to put things in motion. He wants to go back. And how can someone want something this much and not get it?
“All I’m saying, is you don’t need an excuse to get drunk. You’re off tomorrow right? Or has Arsène put you on lockdown again?”
Cesc chops onions and celery while balancing the phone between his shoulder and neck. “If you were here then I could get drunk and blame it on you.”
“No- if you were here then we could get drunk and just blame it on Puyi.”
“I’d need an apartment. You still have the number for that real estate agent you sent a while back?”
Gerard doesn’t say anything.
“Know anyone who could get me a good deal on a car?”
“You’re mocking me, I get it.”
“No, Geri- listen. Don’t say anything, don’t tell anyone just yet, but there’s a chance I may come back.”
_
The negotiations are tough and it weighs on him, more than knowing he won’t ever win the Premiere League.
He’s come so close, so many times.
And that will always stay with him, the fact that he never got to lift any trophies with this team.
_
Transfer season begins and with it, more media speculation, his face on all mayor news sites. His teammates, the fans, everyone asking for answers.
Cesc avoids them altogether. He’s been instructed to keep his mouth shut and besides, he doesn’t know any more than what everyone reads.
“It doesn’t look good.” Arsène tells him. Once again, they meet in his office. Cesc feels like he’s cheating on someone.
“35M, that’s all they’re willing to give.”
It’s not even half of what Arsenal’s asking for him. Of what Arsène said he was worth.
“The club won’t go any lower than 40. I know your mind is set, and I’m not asking for you to reconsider this-”
“I’ll cover the rest.” Cesc knows all about Mascherano’s transfer deal from last year. And he wants, he wants to go back so bad.
It was never about the money, or the spoils. He could have asked for a raise, fuck, he could have accepted that outrageous bid form Madrid. Florentino probably would have thrown in a nice mansion and car deal his way. But no, this is about making his dream happen.
He won’t let it slip away this time.
_
The worse part is, keeping everything a secret from the team.
Samir blabs away to the dailymail and Theo calls Cesc with anger in his voice. He wants his captain to do something about it. He wants to know if he’s thinking about leaving as well.
Cesc tells Theo to stop paying too much attention at stupid transfer rumors and it feels like he’s twisting a knife no Gunner knows they’re carrying around their backs. It's not like he's lying.
But it seems to calm everyone down.
Until, that is, Arsenal leave on their Asian pre-season tour and Cesc decides partying in Ibiza with Gerard and Puyi sounds more appealing.
_
He checks all their scores on his phone, while Gerard and Puyol throw sand on his face and kick a football around.
They- Arsenal does good, and after their last game Robin calls.
“You didn’t watch, did you?”
Cesc squints at the sun. “No, but I checked the score on my mobile. You guys did good.” You don’t need me, you’ll do just fine, he wants to say.
“Yeah, I have a good feeling about this season.”
He takes another sip from his ridiculous cocktail. “Puyi got me some pink drink on a dare, but pink drinks are OK right? I’ve seen you drink cosmos with Bouchra.”
“Say you’re not leaving.”
The words hit him like a cold bucket of ice. “Robin, you know I can’t talk about any of it.” He says in a flat tone.
“Don’t give me bullshit excuses. Say you’ll be with us next season.”
“I have to go.” He hangs up the phone, chugs his stupid cocktail and tells the bartender he needs another round of tequila.
_
Gerard texts and calls and e-mails every ten minutes. It would be annoying, if he didn’t seem so genuinely excited for Cesc.
From: gerard3
hurry upppppp and don’t
say you have to pack
all your shit. people can do
that for you these days
From: gerard3
i promise i’ll love your stupid
dog. just dont change your
mind
“First team, can you believe we’ll all be together on the first team?”
Cesc lays on the rug while his dog, Chloe, licks powder sugar remains off his fingertips. “If something doesn’t get in the way.”
“It’s practically done, you can’t do anything about it. You’re coming back.”
“I don’t want to jinx anything.”
From: gerard3
oooohh moc moc
look whose wearing your #
better hurry
thiago.jpg
From: gerard3
it’s a pre-season thing
don’t cry
From: puyi
nanuuuuu so it’s true?
From: gerard3
ceeeeesc i was joking
answer your phone
“You’re insufferable. And you wonder why I left all those years ago.” Cesc’s at the grocery store, contemplating whether he should buy another bottle or shampoo or just do with what he has back at his apartment.
“Right, better tell Rosell to give up some bonus for dealing with me now that you’re back.”
He dumps a small bottle of Suave on the shopping cart. “Yeah, one million per Champions, one per La Liga, and dump three more just for having to stand Gerard.”
At this, Gerard laughs. “Fuck, we’re going to win everything. You’ll see.”
_
He’s back at Arsène’s office, one last time.
There’s papers he needs to sign and the inevitable goodbye.
Cesc’s been so happy, ever since the phone call letting him know that yes, Barcelona and Arsenal came to an agreement, that he didn’t have time to think about saying goodbye.
He tried really hard, not to think about this. Saying goodbye to Arsène is like losing a limb, and Cesc wonders if he’ll miss it, if he’ll get that ghost feeling people always talk about.
Arsène doesn’t give him any meaningful parting last words, he twists his mouth and nods at Cesc.
“I just- I want to say-” But Cesc doesn’t know what to say. He swallows his tears and just puts his arms around Arsène. “Thank you, thank you so much for everything.” And those are the only words that matter.
Cesc Fàbregas owes everything and more to him. The man who found him, who believed in a stupid 16 year old with a funny nose and so much desire to play. Arsène is not only the one who taught Cesc about football, who made him captain of a team filled with magic, he’s also the one who made his dream come true.
_
He doesn’t believe it. He tries really hard to hide all the joy in his face.
And then he’s there, shaking hands with Rosell and posing outside the club.
He’s picking up his uniform and has to almost pinch himself when he looks at the back of his jersey.
Fàbregas 4.
One day, you will be Barcelona’s #4
The fans scream his name and he is just so happy. His family is there too and Cesc wants to run, cry, scream, laugh, smile with them.
He kisses the crest. Once, twice and once more just because he can.
The waiting is bitter, but it makes the rewards much sweeter Arsène once told him, and he was right. He was so fucking right.
_
Madrid, at home. Camp Nou.
This is how Cesc Fàbregas debuts with his team. His team.
The dressing room seems much more intimidating now. Iniesta is there, and Xavi and Puyi and Villa.
Gerard is there too, and he pinches Cesc’s arm before wrapping both arms around him. “You’re here.”
And Cesc nods.
There’s nothing else left to say.
_
So this is what Francesc Fàbregas i Soler (both the player and person) has come to learn after 8 years:
That if you wait just enough, get to a place where you stop running away, dreams stop becoming just dreams. They finally become attainable. That things change and people leave, but that's just the nature of life. That he's a cule at heart, he's made up of Barca DNA. That he may no longer be a Gunner, but he'll always be a Gooner.
That sometimes, you can come back to Neverland, and it will feel like you never left to begin with.
That it's hard to play seamlessly, and even harder to let go of some things.
That, at 24, he has so much to learn, so much to fight for.
That he'll throw some faulty passes, and make mediocre calls, but he'll also score. And Lio will be there, and Puyol. And Gerard will make that stupid face and pull on his ear a little too hard. And it will feel like the happiest and only ending possible.
"You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it."
-Peter Pan
end.