Fic: When We Were Young - Loovens/van Persie; Huntelaar/van Persie
Title: When We Were Young
Author: huntingjanuary
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Complete fictive garbage makes the world go around.
Pairing: Glenn Loovens/Robin van Persie; Klaas Jan Huntelaar/Robin van Persie
As a kid, Glenn could always remember Robin’s self-satisfied smile when he managed to steal the ball from him and used that chance to score and impress everyone out in that pitch of concrete and steel. It wasn’t much to play in to begin with, but this was their playground, their scrapbook, their photo album, their hope of keeping something alive just between the two of them. He was quite sure that he hated every moment Robin tried to prove he was better at football than he was, but unfortunately he can never be genuinely angry just because he knew it was true. They played rivals, they played friendly competitors, but in the end, he accepted that Robin was just better at it than he could ever be.
Someday, I’m going to be Excelsior’s star striker. He remembered him say.
Glenn challenged him dutifully, but deep down he knew it would happen - one way or another. He was everything a boy could ask for and more from a best friend - he was loyal, affectionate, and never said no to whatever Robin had in store. When puberty hits, Robin was chasing every girl in town and Glenn played the role of wingman dutifully, and if he’s lucky he’d take the sloppy seconds that really wasn’t all that bad to begin with. Robin just had high standards, and looking back, he’s rather grateful he made the cut.
Then came Bouchra, and Robin fell hard - but being Robin van Persie, enough is never enough and finding the girl now meant he had other areas to focus on, particularly that of a fourteen-year old girl’s priority list: boys. When Feyenoord captured both of them, they were shoved into an inside world where sexuality wasn’t as black and white as they thought it’d be. Robin grew up tall, dark-haired, with smouldering good looks and he grew up... well, nice - curly blond locks to die for, deep blue eyes resembling those of a porcelain doll, but that unfortunately didn’t sell in this world.
Glenn still finds himself as the loyal wingman, but this time there were no sloppy seconds to take, they had Robin and they wanted more. So Glenn took a different role as the years pass, to appease Robin’s past fucks and avoid all kinds of drama. Robin cut the heart, and Glenn stood by faithfully performing the necessary anaesthesia. It didn’t really matter to him that it was a rather dysfunctional friendship as Glenn finds himself more and more drawn to Robin than ever. One day he realized he was in love with his best friend, but unfortunately, it was also the same day he realized that their rather simple farmer-looking friend from national team had grown up nice, better than nice. Golden brown hair, sharp features that had sweet undertones and rumours pass that he had the skills to challenge Robin - and he’s sure they’re not talking about football.
Glenn waited for the day for Robin to give him the green light to perform the usual routine on Klaas but it never came. Perhaps it was good-natured jealousy, perhaps it was genuine affection, but Glenn knew he had to confess now or never. But whatever involves Robin was always bad timing, and instead of ever getting the signal that he could tell Klaas to fuck off, he received an invitation for a farewell party as Robin had packed his bags to move to London.
You’ll always be my best mate. He remembered him say.
Glenn nodded unquestioningly, but deep down he knew - it wasn’t true. Robin was destined for greater things, and even if he had a bad attitude, it would never surpass the fact that he had an even greater talent. Glenn finally let go of Robin reluctantly, but there’s still that underlying hope even when they stood still at the gate that Robin would always come back to where he belonged. He even said a silent prayer to himself to seal the anticipation.
If you love someone, let them go. If they return to you, it was meant to be. If they don't, their love was never yours to begin with.
So Robin settled well in London, he heard of a few complaints from the press on Robin’s infamous attitude but Glenn never took it seriously - he just laughed at the endless jeers at his best friend and he felt more proud than ever, knowing that Robin stayed true to himself. He watches him behind the television screen, dressed in red and white and going for every chance of goal available and he can only smile.
Someday you’re going to be Arsenal’s star striker. He remembered himself say.
Robin was constantly on his mind, and never mind if he was never a part of Robin’s - but secretly hopes he was. Positivity is somewhat of a bad habit for Glenn and when it comes to Robin, it grew even worst. For the first few months, Robin still kept him up with the latest news and what’s-been-ups but when the calls and texts stops - knowing Robin, he was busying himself with trying to befriend the whole Arsenal squad - of course in true van Persie style: hi, you’re hot, let’s fuck, aren’t you lucky to have me, that’s not going there, and oh, piss off thanks.
He heard something about a giddy young Spaniard, a couple of classy young Swiss, an array of Frenchmen his heart desires, and a taste of the local English cuisine. Glenn faked his interest, buried his jealousy and once again played the role of the loyal best friend when Robin explained - positions and places. None of them however compared to that bitch of a farm boy even if he was hitting both every net and men available in Holland. Klaas grew to be a bigger part of him and this Glenn knew very well. This Glenn hates, and this Glenn wishes would never exist between them but it does, did, do - and whatever the case may be he’ll always be the last resort.
Sometimes he wonders if it’s all worth it, but when he’s around he knew it was more than that, it was that mythical love at first sight, a Shakespearean tragedy, an I have the right to kill you kind of affection. It was powerful, almost spiritual, and Glenn never knew quite how to explain to himself that it was also a kind of love that bordered on sickeningly cliché - the unrequited love.
Nevertheless, the pain was still exceptionally clear, like the kind he remembers feeling every time his parents had a go at him when he was little. A pain that can only be felt when innocence was still relevant. Most of the time people overlook the fact that innocence is nothing more than ignorance, and chasing after something or rather someone in vain really is the same thing.
Glenn knows somehow he’ll stay true though, just because.
At night he lies awake, most of the time staring at what he wishes to be something remotely symbolic, but really it’s all just bullshit. When he picks up the phone, his face flushes automatically just because he wished it was him. But even if it was, it really was no more than a tell tale to the latest adventurous fucks Robin had experienced.
Sometimes he wished him dead, other times he wished him everlasting pain, most of the time he just wishes him good health.
When he gets the chance, he’ll tell him what it feels like - the never-ending waiting, the self-abusing, and the constant questions on why exactly he and the rest of the world always wanted something they can’t have. He knows there was no use in constantly dwelling in something so obviously futile but so long as there’s a constant drive inside him - he knew it wasn’t fair to let it rot six feet under.
He knew someday, somehow, and somewhere - it would be clear that Robin was always his.
Author: huntingjanuary
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Complete fictive garbage makes the world go around.
Pairing: Glenn Loovens/Robin van Persie; Klaas Jan Huntelaar/Robin van Persie
As a kid, Glenn could always remember Robin’s self-satisfied smile when he managed to steal the ball from him and used that chance to score and impress everyone out in that pitch of concrete and steel. It wasn’t much to play in to begin with, but this was their playground, their scrapbook, their photo album, their hope of keeping something alive just between the two of them. He was quite sure that he hated every moment Robin tried to prove he was better at football than he was, but unfortunately he can never be genuinely angry just because he knew it was true. They played rivals, they played friendly competitors, but in the end, he accepted that Robin was just better at it than he could ever be.
Someday, I’m going to be Excelsior’s star striker. He remembered him say.
Glenn challenged him dutifully, but deep down he knew it would happen - one way or another. He was everything a boy could ask for and more from a best friend - he was loyal, affectionate, and never said no to whatever Robin had in store. When puberty hits, Robin was chasing every girl in town and Glenn played the role of wingman dutifully, and if he’s lucky he’d take the sloppy seconds that really wasn’t all that bad to begin with. Robin just had high standards, and looking back, he’s rather grateful he made the cut.
Then came Bouchra, and Robin fell hard - but being Robin van Persie, enough is never enough and finding the girl now meant he had other areas to focus on, particularly that of a fourteen-year old girl’s priority list: boys. When Feyenoord captured both of them, they were shoved into an inside world where sexuality wasn’t as black and white as they thought it’d be. Robin grew up tall, dark-haired, with smouldering good looks and he grew up... well, nice - curly blond locks to die for, deep blue eyes resembling those of a porcelain doll, but that unfortunately didn’t sell in this world.
Glenn still finds himself as the loyal wingman, but this time there were no sloppy seconds to take, they had Robin and they wanted more. So Glenn took a different role as the years pass, to appease Robin’s past fucks and avoid all kinds of drama. Robin cut the heart, and Glenn stood by faithfully performing the necessary anaesthesia. It didn’t really matter to him that it was a rather dysfunctional friendship as Glenn finds himself more and more drawn to Robin than ever. One day he realized he was in love with his best friend, but unfortunately, it was also the same day he realized that their rather simple farmer-looking friend from national team had grown up nice, better than nice. Golden brown hair, sharp features that had sweet undertones and rumours pass that he had the skills to challenge Robin - and he’s sure they’re not talking about football.
Glenn waited for the day for Robin to give him the green light to perform the usual routine on Klaas but it never came. Perhaps it was good-natured jealousy, perhaps it was genuine affection, but Glenn knew he had to confess now or never. But whatever involves Robin was always bad timing, and instead of ever getting the signal that he could tell Klaas to fuck off, he received an invitation for a farewell party as Robin had packed his bags to move to London.
You’ll always be my best mate. He remembered him say.
Glenn nodded unquestioningly, but deep down he knew - it wasn’t true. Robin was destined for greater things, and even if he had a bad attitude, it would never surpass the fact that he had an even greater talent. Glenn finally let go of Robin reluctantly, but there’s still that underlying hope even when they stood still at the gate that Robin would always come back to where he belonged. He even said a silent prayer to himself to seal the anticipation.
If you love someone, let them go. If they return to you, it was meant to be. If they don't, their love was never yours to begin with.
So Robin settled well in London, he heard of a few complaints from the press on Robin’s infamous attitude but Glenn never took it seriously - he just laughed at the endless jeers at his best friend and he felt more proud than ever, knowing that Robin stayed true to himself. He watches him behind the television screen, dressed in red and white and going for every chance of goal available and he can only smile.
Someday you’re going to be Arsenal’s star striker. He remembered himself say.
Robin was constantly on his mind, and never mind if he was never a part of Robin’s - but secretly hopes he was. Positivity is somewhat of a bad habit for Glenn and when it comes to Robin, it grew even worst. For the first few months, Robin still kept him up with the latest news and what’s-been-ups but when the calls and texts stops - knowing Robin, he was busying himself with trying to befriend the whole Arsenal squad - of course in true van Persie style: hi, you’re hot, let’s fuck, aren’t you lucky to have me, that’s not going there, and oh, piss off thanks.
He heard something about a giddy young Spaniard, a couple of classy young Swiss, an array of Frenchmen his heart desires, and a taste of the local English cuisine. Glenn faked his interest, buried his jealousy and once again played the role of the loyal best friend when Robin explained - positions and places. None of them however compared to that bitch of a farm boy even if he was hitting both every net and men available in Holland. Klaas grew to be a bigger part of him and this Glenn knew very well. This Glenn hates, and this Glenn wishes would never exist between them but it does, did, do - and whatever the case may be he’ll always be the last resort.
Sometimes he wonders if it’s all worth it, but when he’s around he knew it was more than that, it was that mythical love at first sight, a Shakespearean tragedy, an I have the right to kill you kind of affection. It was powerful, almost spiritual, and Glenn never knew quite how to explain to himself that it was also a kind of love that bordered on sickeningly cliché - the unrequited love.
Nevertheless, the pain was still exceptionally clear, like the kind he remembers feeling every time his parents had a go at him when he was little. A pain that can only be felt when innocence was still relevant. Most of the time people overlook the fact that innocence is nothing more than ignorance, and chasing after something or rather someone in vain really is the same thing.
Glenn knows somehow he’ll stay true though, just because.
At night he lies awake, most of the time staring at what he wishes to be something remotely symbolic, but really it’s all just bullshit. When he picks up the phone, his face flushes automatically just because he wished it was him. But even if it was, it really was no more than a tell tale to the latest adventurous fucks Robin had experienced.
Sometimes he wished him dead, other times he wished him everlasting pain, most of the time he just wishes him good health.
When he gets the chance, he’ll tell him what it feels like - the never-ending waiting, the self-abusing, and the constant questions on why exactly he and the rest of the world always wanted something they can’t have. He knows there was no use in constantly dwelling in something so obviously futile but so long as there’s a constant drive inside him - he knew it wasn’t fair to let it rot six feet under.
He knew someday, somehow, and somewhere - it would be clear that Robin was always his.