nothing left to lose (part 2)
Title: nothing left to lose (part 2)
Characters: Xabi Alonso, Steven Gerrard
Disclaimer: All fiction
Comments: Would be lovely <3
Xabi walked out of the locker room with his bag strapped around his shoulder, having said goodbye to Mesut who was still changing inside. He liked boy, the 22 year-old had a quiet disposition, was very down-to-earth and never caused any trouble. Stepping out onto the sidewalk he hailed a cab, ready to head back home to sleep off memories of the match. They had won, but Xabi knew it was merely by luck. Getafe had played well. He knew his performance had been substandard, and he hated to admit to himself that it was because he was still distressed about that night with Steven.
As a cab pulled to his side, he gave the driver his address, to which the man merely nodded briefly, and slipped into the backseat of the car. Leaning his head against the headrest, Xabi rubbed his eyes hard, trying to push aside the exhaustion from having had no sleep over the past two nights. He felt worn out, like his body wasn’t his own, like he’d gone to bed one night and woken up with somebody else’s legs and arms and dead beat body.
The driver pulled into the driveway of his house and Xabi paid him, telling him to keep the change. The minute he walked into his bedroom he threw his bag onto the floor and sank onto the mattress. Nagore had left the lamp at his bedside switched on, and a little note that said ‘Glad you’re back. I love you.’
Xabi switched the light off and rested his head on the pillow. He was physically weary and mentally fatigued. The night after having left Steven’s hotel he’d gone back to his own, crawled into bed and replayed the conversation over and over in his head, thinking through every word that Steven had said, wondering if he meant them.
What we have - what we had, Xabs, wasn’t real. Hearing those words, after all these years, after all they had been through together, after the whispered promises and tender love-making, brought tears to his eyes. He could feel this bitterness in his heart, this longing to be numb, to not be able to feel the crushing pain that had settled in his chest, like a big tumour weighing him down. And although in his head Steven’s voice was playing like a broken recorder, around him was complete silence, all he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ribcage, so deafening he was sure he was going insane.
It was all a fucking big mistake, Xabs. That had hurt too. He knew sometimes things had not gone well. With him in Madrid and Steven in Liverpool, and their hectic trainings and plane flights, it was more than difficult to try to pick days to meet up. He understood that things were complicated, that their demanding careers and the fact that they both had wives and children made things even worse; but to him everything else didn’t matter, everything else was worth it if it meant he still got to see Steven. Even if only briefly, even if it meant having to fly to Liverpool in the early hours of the morning, and having to wait in the hotel room until Steven could leave the house without Alex getting suspicious, if it was possible - sometimes Steven would say he’d be there and then later text him to say he couldn’t make it because Alex had had a change of plans, or she wanted him to watch the kids, or something else came up - and then flying back to Madrid on the same day. To Xabi all the hassle, the fatigue, the waiting and the occasional disappointments were unimportant if at the end of it all he could spend some time with Steven. To hear the Scouser say it was all a mistake felt like Steven had literally ripped his heart out of his chest and torn it into pieces.
Lying on his back, Xabi fixed his eyes at the ceiling although his mind was somewhere else. He felt drained, as if every last bit of energy he had in his body had seeped out and yet at night when he went to bed he could not sleep. His mind wouldn’t stop working, wouldn’t stop putting thoughts into his head although the weight on his eyelids reminded him that he needed to get some rest, although around him darkness enveloped the sky and the world went to sleep.
He took his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. It was already twenty minutes past three. Three hours had flown by and he was still lying on his back, his mind in a million miles away. There were no new messages, no missed calls. He went to his inbox and scrolled through the text messages, all of them from Steven. He opened one randomly.
Fuck you. Leave me the hell alone.
He scrolled down further.
I hate you. I FUCKING hate you for leaving me. You fuck.
And another one.
How dare you fucking tell me you love me and then leave like that? Who the fuck do you think you are?
He scrolled down some more, until he came across one that wasn’t angry, that didn’t seem like Steven hated his guts, that sounded more like the Steven he knew and loved.
I miss you Xabs. I really fucking miss you.
Xabi read the nine words over and over again, unaware that he had started to cry.
Characters: Xabi Alonso, Steven Gerrard
Disclaimer: All fiction
Comments: Would be lovely <3
Xabi walked out of the locker room with his bag strapped around his shoulder, having said goodbye to Mesut who was still changing inside. He liked boy, the 22 year-old had a quiet disposition, was very down-to-earth and never caused any trouble. Stepping out onto the sidewalk he hailed a cab, ready to head back home to sleep off memories of the match. They had won, but Xabi knew it was merely by luck. Getafe had played well. He knew his performance had been substandard, and he hated to admit to himself that it was because he was still distressed about that night with Steven.
As a cab pulled to his side, he gave the driver his address, to which the man merely nodded briefly, and slipped into the backseat of the car. Leaning his head against the headrest, Xabi rubbed his eyes hard, trying to push aside the exhaustion from having had no sleep over the past two nights. He felt worn out, like his body wasn’t his own, like he’d gone to bed one night and woken up with somebody else’s legs and arms and dead beat body.
The driver pulled into the driveway of his house and Xabi paid him, telling him to keep the change. The minute he walked into his bedroom he threw his bag onto the floor and sank onto the mattress. Nagore had left the lamp at his bedside switched on, and a little note that said ‘Glad you’re back. I love you.’
Xabi switched the light off and rested his head on the pillow. He was physically weary and mentally fatigued. The night after having left Steven’s hotel he’d gone back to his own, crawled into bed and replayed the conversation over and over in his head, thinking through every word that Steven had said, wondering if he meant them.
What we have - what we had, Xabs, wasn’t real. Hearing those words, after all these years, after all they had been through together, after the whispered promises and tender love-making, brought tears to his eyes. He could feel this bitterness in his heart, this longing to be numb, to not be able to feel the crushing pain that had settled in his chest, like a big tumour weighing him down. And although in his head Steven’s voice was playing like a broken recorder, around him was complete silence, all he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ribcage, so deafening he was sure he was going insane.
It was all a fucking big mistake, Xabs. That had hurt too. He knew sometimes things had not gone well. With him in Madrid and Steven in Liverpool, and their hectic trainings and plane flights, it was more than difficult to try to pick days to meet up. He understood that things were complicated, that their demanding careers and the fact that they both had wives and children made things even worse; but to him everything else didn’t matter, everything else was worth it if it meant he still got to see Steven. Even if only briefly, even if it meant having to fly to Liverpool in the early hours of the morning, and having to wait in the hotel room until Steven could leave the house without Alex getting suspicious, if it was possible - sometimes Steven would say he’d be there and then later text him to say he couldn’t make it because Alex had had a change of plans, or she wanted him to watch the kids, or something else came up - and then flying back to Madrid on the same day. To Xabi all the hassle, the fatigue, the waiting and the occasional disappointments were unimportant if at the end of it all he could spend some time with Steven. To hear the Scouser say it was all a mistake felt like Steven had literally ripped his heart out of his chest and torn it into pieces.
Lying on his back, Xabi fixed his eyes at the ceiling although his mind was somewhere else. He felt drained, as if every last bit of energy he had in his body had seeped out and yet at night when he went to bed he could not sleep. His mind wouldn’t stop working, wouldn’t stop putting thoughts into his head although the weight on his eyelids reminded him that he needed to get some rest, although around him darkness enveloped the sky and the world went to sleep.
He took his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. It was already twenty minutes past three. Three hours had flown by and he was still lying on his back, his mind in a million miles away. There were no new messages, no missed calls. He went to his inbox and scrolled through the text messages, all of them from Steven. He opened one randomly.
Fuck you. Leave me the hell alone.
He scrolled down further.
I hate you. I FUCKING hate you for leaving me. You fuck.
And another one.
How dare you fucking tell me you love me and then leave like that? Who the fuck do you think you are?
He scrolled down some more, until he came across one that wasn’t angry, that didn’t seem like Steven hated his guts, that sounded more like the Steven he knew and loved.
I miss you Xabs. I really fucking miss you.
Xabi read the nine words over and over again, unaware that he had started to cry.