like a broken rose (i/ii)
this is my work to the RPF Big Bang, a diego milito&gonzalo higuaín ~16,000 words story during the world cup, in which gonzalo can't deal with very well failure and diego notices. as real as a group of unicorns, notes at the end with more explanations and the like. also, this work is only complet when you take a look to the wonderful fanmix that nataixoco made for it. beta, hand-holding and all that jazz by lauchis.
.like a broken rose.
milito/higuaín. gen progressing to slash. worldcupverse. selección argentina. sensitive subjects. rated pg-15. title from nana's opening.
"Con el Pipa somos muy compatibles, podemos jugar juntos sin problemas.
Somos parecidos y diferentes a la vez.
Tenemos características similares, quizás yo soy un poco más de área
y él tiene más desequilibrio por las puntas,
pero jugamos por todo el frente de ataque
y nos podemos complementar".
-Diego Milito, about playing with Higuaín.
"Sinceramente no,
no es una presión, es un desafío.
Son situaciones del partido lo de convertir."
-Gonzalo Higuaín, about having Milito on the bench.
"Diego, keep an eye on him, will ya?" Maradona says to him like he says everything: careless, easy going, as if he's not making a big deal out of it. Milito nods, because that's not only Maradona talking to him and telling him what to do, that's also his coach and the one he ought to obey.
"What is it?" Diego asks, and the question is for Gonzalo, who's staring at the ball as if it was his biggest enemy.
"Weren't you watching?" Gonzalo murmurs, eyes still down.
"Watching what?" Diego feels lost, "I was on the other side with Mancuso and Sergio talking about shoots to tease our starting defense."
"Ah," Higuaín finally looks up, " couldn't score for the life of me, either I missed or Chiquito caught it, I'm having a pretty shitty day."
"It's been what, thirty minutes since your practice started, give yourself a break. And honestly, it's good that our goalkeeper can catch a ball or two, right?"
"Right," he agrees, but he mutters something else Diego doesn't hear.
"Say that again," he asks, not wanting to sound too demanding but not able of helping it.
"My dad used to say to my brother and I that in five minutes you could lose your starting position."
Diego blinks to that, thinks about his own father and the ways he always encouraged him and Gaby, even when they were both starting in the bench, how that was enough for Jorge; Diego assumes that that's the difference between having a father who was a soccer player and one who wasn't.
"All right then," Diego nods, "according to your father, how long would it take to have it back?"
"A full day of training," Gonzalo answers with something in his voice that Diego can't recognize.
"Very well, we'll be training the whole day."
"Diego you don't hav-"
"Of course I do," Milito cuts in, he feels like he's talking to Gabriel for a second, but pushes that thought away from his head by focusing on the training because they're playing against Nigeria tomorrow.
.
Diego wakes up because he's a light sleeper.
His younger brother had night terrors, and that got him used to paying attention to everything that went on when the lights were off, and in the present time he's the father of two young kids: for him any noise during the night is disturbing because it's not right, because it shouldn't be there, because it means there's something going on.
It takes Diego almost a whole minute to adjust his eyes to the lack of light, the room for him is a blurry dark space he isn't very used to just yet, even if they've been in there for almost a month (his room, after all, is one of the places in which he spends the less time). When he starts to search for sources of light, like the hole where the window is, he finds none, which assures him that it must be pretty late. There is, however, a small halo of light calling out for attention. It comes from the bathroom to the left of Gonzalo's bed, and the door is closed.
Then it happens again.
At the start it's a guttural noise, a cough stifled or mixed with something else, hard to recognize for Milito's ears, but after a moment it becomes almost familiar and Diego is confident about knowing what it is that's breaking the room's silence: a retch. Rasping, nasty and disgusting, it makes Diego's own stomach feel sick at the start, before the realization chimes in, when he notices what is going on and how little to no sense it makes. Gonzalo was the only other person in the room, why is Gonzalo throwing up in the bathroom at- Diego has no idea what time it is, so he searches for his phone on the night stand. The light from it causes him to blink a few times before he can actually watch the screen and read its content: ten past three, am. Knowing the time doesn't help him at all, but it gives him a stupid sense of security. He hears it again, which brings him back to the train of thoughts he interrupted before (why is Gonzalo throwing up at 3 am?). The part of Diego that's an older brother and a father wants to get up, make sure Higuaín is okay, wonder if Gonzalo would have wanted to call him (or anyone) for help, but couldn't or was ashamed.
Diego isn't sure what the right actions to do in this situation are, so before doing something impulsive that he would have done in his twenties (why is José so sick after going to a club? He said he'd behave, maybe I should call the doctor… and for a whole week, Chatruc didn't talk to him), he tries to analyze everything in the coldest way he can. Why is Higuaín sick? Maybe he ate something heavy during dinner, his mind tells him, but after a moment of that idea, he remembers that even if there were celebrating the first victory and his birthday, there was nothing out of the ordinary on the table.
Diego wonders what else it could be, he thinks about something he heard once regarding to some people that reacted badly to changes of water and environment, but that didn't make much sense either, mostly because they had been there nearly a month and this hadn't happened until this day. But - but what if he hasn't noticed? What if it has been going on since the start and he never noticed until today? In that case, Gonzalo should have told the doctor about it. And maybe he did, which would mean that Diego is over-worrying (something he does a lot) about something that's completely under control, and if he gets up and goes over there he'll end up only making himself and Higuaín uncomfortable.
Diego breathes heavily wishing he could just turn off his head for a second. It doesn't happen so he makes a decision: if he hears anything again, he'll get up, at least to ask something stupid like "everything okay there?" even if he gets a few curses and a "go away" as a reply. Okay, fine, Gonzalo wouldn't curse at him, Diego isn't sure why he knows that, but he's pretty certain about it.
Nothing happens.
A minute, two or maybe three go by. Milito is mutely waiting for anything that gives him a clue about what to do next, and the noise that finally occurs isn't the one he expected for but the known sound of the toilet being flushed, as strong and insolent as any other resonance before in the room. Then it's all quiet, and maybe Gonzalo is walking to the lavatory, idea that's confirmed when the sound of water running comes through the door. Then it opens, and with that Diego closes his eyes, stops moving, assumes Gonzalo turned off the lights leaving the room in full darkness as it should have been. Diego maybe hears or maybe imagines Higuaín's footsteps going towards the bed and climbing there, fighting with the sheets and the covers to fit inside them, to be comfortable and peaceful as if he hadn't moved at all.
Milito considers calling out Gonzalo's name, asking him if he's fine, making sure there's nothing he should know or he should be taking care of. He doesn't know if there's a right way to put it, to ask without sounding like he has been listening to Gonzalo throw up without doing much more than just staying in the other room without moving, even if that's exactly what happened. Thinking about that, about the proper way to ask or to say anything, he falls asleep. The next time he opens his eyes there's sunshine trying to come in all the way through the window and the water from the shower sounds as strong and fresh as the new day. He's too surprised about Gonzalo having gotten up before him like to give anything else a thought.
.
That morning during practice Diego thinks about going over to Gonzalo and saying something soft like 'I heard you getting up late last night, is everything all right?' but no matter how much he considers the idea, it sounds forced, fake and built up. And it is, but Diego can't help it.
Milito stares at him during lunch, glances back and forth between Gonzalo and his plate just to confirm that there's nothing wrong going on there: Higuaín eats fine. He's neither being picky about his food nor eating too much or too little. There's clearly nothing to see there, but Diego isn't sure what else he can do besides observing from far away like a witness who knows something that the rest ignores. At least it's the only option that doesn't involve going to talk to the team doctor or Maradona and stepping over Gonzalo's word, as if he was a kid who can't take care of himself.
That's not a good idea, Diego thinks while he eats slowly; he hasn't even asked Gonzalo about it, he doesn't know his view of things, his opinion on the matter, and maybe he should; after all this is about him and Diego only knows what he heard, meaning he has no real idea.
Diego drinks his water and looks at Gonzalo, who's laughing at something Mario is saying. He thinks that maybe he's simply blowing things out of proportion and that what happened last night was a random incident, a bad night, and for all he knows Pipa already went to the doctor for advice and care.
Yes, Gonzalo is a smart and conscientious guy, he certainly did that. Diego nods to himself when he comes to that conclusion.
"Are you mad at me?" Agüero's voice from the other side of the table snaps him back to reality.
"Eh, no, why?"
"You haven't said a word in the whole meal."
Diego looks at him, smiles cheekily remembering an old anecdote from the team, "well, not all of us feel the need to fill up every gasp of air with conversation, Sergio."
"Oh, fuck you," Agüero insults, but he's grinning.
Diego doesn't think about Gonzalo and last night during the rest of the lunch or dessert, too distracted and somehow amused with Burdisso and Samuel arguing about the best kind of yerba for mate.
.
It doesn't happen again.
Diego stays awake until a little after one a.m. and Higuaín sleeps the whole time. It doesn't look like anything is going to disturb his serene rest. Just in case, in a sort of desperate act, Diego sets up his phone alarm for it to ring a little after three and hides his phone under his pillows.
At three-thirty-something he opens his eyes and the room is dark, there's no light anywhere, there's no bathroom door closed and no halo under it. Everything is in rightful silence. He falls asleep before he can start to complain to himself about being an idiot.
.
Diego is actually happy for him after the match vs. South Korea. Romero even points out he's happier than Higuaín himself and if Heinze agrees, Milito just decides to ignore them both for talking nonsense.
The thing is that Gonzalo with that much confidence isn't good for the team: it's awesome. Gonzalo scoring three goals in the same match had so many good points that Diego could ignore how he wasn't on the starting team or given the same fair amount of opportunities. It was okay, everything was all right. Argentina kept winning and they were happy, it was enough for him, it made him smile; but it had always been easy to make Diego smile, mostly to forget when things didn't go the way he would like. Sometimes, his own positive thinking made him laugh a bit.
"What are you laughing at?" Gonzalo jumps at him from behind on the walk back from the bus to the hotel.
"You," Diego replies, and it's not entirely untrue.
"Oh," Gonzalo seems to consider something, "well, if it comes from you, it's all right." After that statement, Higuaín lets go of Milito's back and walks faster with some of the other guys.
Diego beams again - there goes happy, friendly Gonzalo, who hasn't felt sick since the day after the first game. Diego almost forgot about the whole thing. Almost.
.
He's not mad at Martín - that makes no sense actually; he's pleased to see someone like him, at his age, after all the bad things he's gone through, can accomplish something like that. But. But his pride is a little hurt. Verón said it better that he was able of expressing it: he said it was back luck with enhanced words and in a more technical way. He'll surely say something like that to the press and Milito is thankful for that.
He sits down at the end of the bench in the dressing rooms, after most of the players left, after Mardona hugged him once more and said he had so much faith on him it couldn't fit in all the stadiums in South Africa or even the world. Milito doesn't say anything about it even if the worst side of him is making snappy remarks inside his head (where's that positive thinking now?). He's a patient man and he'll continue with that. It takes Diego out of his absorption when someone sits down in front of him on the floor, Indian-style, hair wet and a worried face.
"Yes?" Diego asks when Gonzalo doesn't talk.
"Nothing," Higuaín shrugs his shoulders.
"Then, what are you doing?"
"Uh, you were like, sulking, so I thought I'd be a good friend if I sat down and sulked with you." Gonzalo explains simply, and as an afterthought adds, "we're sulking right?"
"No, we're not," Milito denies, "we're wondering if we'll ever be lucky."
Gonzalo stares at him, he almost looks horrified and Diego has no idea what he said.
"You gotta be kidding me," he blurts out, and before Milito can reply he adds, "you lead the team you root for to championship after thirty-something years, you are loved and adored in Genoa, you got to play in the same team than your brother, now you're like the most wanted scorer in Italy and a fussy coach like Mourinho talks about you as if you're made of scores and pretty things. Really."
"José is not fussy, he's special." Diego smiles when he says that, and Gonzalo grins as a response.
"Stupid," he says back, "can my stupid roommate come to the bus with me?"
"Fine," Milito agrees, and when they get up he gives Gonzalo a long look, "did you really come to sulk with me? What are we, five?"
Gonzalo looks offended and he grabs Diego by the waist, "shut up."
"And also, when did you learn my biography?"
Gonzalo is quiet for a second as they walk, still joined, "there was this show at TyC before the World Cup started about every player…"
Diego smiles then, and when he notices Gonzalo isn't going to finish the sentence he confesses, "I watched yours, too."
.
This time it's not that late, there aren't lights outside, of course, and the room is pretty dark, but as soon as he notices something off, Diego sits up on his bed and turns on the dim light from his nightstand. While sitting, he has his feet still against the floor, with his thin white socks as the only barrier between the carpet and his skin; his eyes are lost somewhere in the semi-darkness. The silence in the room is as deafening as the crowd on the stadium was earlier that day, and it helps to echo the noises from around.
He hears it again, just like the first time days ago. At least this time he doesn't jump because of it. It's without any doubt a heave along with other gagging noises; it's exactly the same than two or so weeks ago. Diego isn't disgusted by the situation per se like he may have been the first time, he's aghast with whatever reason is behind it.
With an impulse, he does it. It's maybe the third or fourth time that he hears the same noise, so this time he gets up from the bed, grabs a bottle of water from the ones that room servise had left for them earlier and walks the short steps to the bathroom door.
In front of it, he has another moment of hesitation, but he thinks in sassy, cheerful Gonzalo going over to him earlier that day and believes he owes this to him at least. So he knocks on the door and without waiting for an answer he knows he won't get, walks in, carefully. Gonzalo is there, in the floor, as pale as the rest of the room and for a second or less Diego thinks about the first time Gabriel got drunk in his life, thinks about the amusement behind the whole thing, how he could say "I told you so" to his brother and how together they hid it from their parents. This time, there's nothing to make fun about or laugh or enjoy, Diego has nothing to say and if not running to the doctor or to Maradona counts as hiding, then that's the only thing alike. Gonzalo doesn't talk when he sees Diego, he barely straights himself up a bit on the floor, and without saying anything either, Diego hands him the bottled water.
"Spit the first one," he says, when he sees Gonzalo taking the bottle to his mouth. Higuaín does as he's told, he even spits twice before finally swallowing the third drink.
Diego looks at him from the corner of his eyes while pretending to pay attention to the bathroom, because he doesn't know if leaving would be all right or not, he's not even sure if he wants to leave. Higuaín doesn't give him enough time to think, not being able of stopping himself when another retch hitches in his throat and he ends up throwing up the water he just drank. Milito doesn't watch him for respect, and he starts to consider the chance of calling the team doctor. He doesn't do it because Gonzalo, as if reading his mind, talks to him, with a raspy voice that doesn't sound like him and that sounds much shyer than normal, "don't worry, I'm a bit of a pussy. My brother always said that."
Diego makes a face, but says nothing, ignores the feeling of wanting to punch the older Higuaín brother for not knowing how to be a brother. Instead, he walks closer to where Gonzalo is, very cautiously making sure he's not disturbing the younger man; when he's not stopped on his tracks, he goes on and sits down in the bathtub edge, far enough to give Higuaín his space, but closer than before. Gonzalo turns his head to watch him as he leaves the water between the two of them and does nothing, says nothing, besides staring at Diego.
Diego stares back, he's used to be the older one and have (and have to have) a sort of answer or solace, but this time he's not sure he feels like that. He doesn't have a response at all, he mostly has questions, many of them. But it's not the time to ask those, so he barely shrugs his shoulders and looks away for a moment.
Higuaín doesn't seem to mind, any of it, and Diego notices that when he looks down to him again, something he does when he feels Gonzalo's hand, the one that was a bit cold and wet from holding the water, against his leg. The hand moves forward until it meets with Diego's own, and it tangles with it in complete silence. None of them talk.
At least Gonzalo doesn't throw up again.
.
They have five days to prepare the match; Maradona has them under the obligation to relax in the afternoons, and that makes Diego a tiny bit more eager than normal because he's bored, and when he's bored he thinks too much, qualms too much. Mostly with what happened last night still in his head and without a real resolution or explanation of any sort. This is something that, by the way, Gonzalo hasn't brought up after they went to bed, and Diego isn't sure if he should, but someone has to do it.
Yet, Diego sees Higuaín there, sitting with the rest of the guys, laughing, talking, being overall okay, and he feels like he shouldn't ruin that, stain it with something Gonzalo won't want to talk about for sure. Diego wonders, while pretending to read a magazine and staring from time to time to the Real Madrid scorer, since when this has been happening, if anyone else ever noticed, if it happens all the time and the precise reason why it happens. It makes Diego believe it has something to do with Gonzalo and his game on the field or with how he acts, because it doesn't look like only a health issue appearing on assorted days, all different from each other which doesn't help Diego to know what exactly triggers this behavior, or what puts it off, which ever way you want to look at it. After the match against South Korea Gonzalo was dead tired and immensely happy, he had an outstanding performance and he had all the right to be so content; even if at some moments Diego considered that the rest of the team was more eager than the scorer, he had seen Gonzalo giggle and joke and be more than okay that whole day. And that night, Diego was sure, nothing had happened, nothing bad.
Then last night happened, after the match against Greece where Gonzalo hadn't played at all. He didn't do well or bad, because he didn't have a chance; but it wasn't because Higuaín was off that he was put away, it was only to make sure he rested, to make sure he'd be okay for the next game. Then why did that Gonzalo? Was he scared that Diego himself or Palermo or even Agüero could steal his place? That was stupid, even after the match Gonzalo should have noticed that his place on the team was not at all in danger. Still, that night after the match, he had been just as sick as after the first match, if not worse.
"What has you so distracted today?" Samuel asks, sitting down in front of him with an inquisitive gaze and a bottle of water in his hands.
"I'm fine," Diego lies and reads something about bad weather around the world without much attention.
"You're not, I've been seeing your pretty face too much in this past year or so, and I can tell when it doesn't look fine."
"You've talked more in that sentence than you have in the whole week, do you feel fine?"
"Fuck off, it's not like you came to ask anyway. "
Diego feels bad for that, 'cause it's true. He was so caught up with Gonzalo that he didn't take a look at his teammate and friend. "You never like to talk, anyway," he offers as a lame excuse.
"I don't, but you could have asked."
Diego looks up to him, Walter's blue eyes are lost in the room and his profile is as hard as ever, "and what could I tell you anyway?" he says in a soft voice, "I could have said welcome to the bench, get comfy, but you hate my morbid sense of humor."
"Because it really doesn't suit you, Diego."
"It does, you just don't like it."
"Maybe," Walter turns his head and they're staring at each other, Diego then smiles up a bit, forcing Walter to do the same. "How did your brother ever stay mad at you more than an hour?"
Diego now grins, "he didn't."
"Of course," Samuel sighs, "now, are you gonna tell me?"
"I'm worried about him," Diego responds pointing with his head to where Gonzalo is.
"Star boy number two?" Walter asks and gets a nod in response, "why? It's not like he'll be worried about you."
"I don't know, and it's not that, it's just... I'm worried."
"You worry too much, Cuchu is right."
"Cambiasso should remember that my worrying too much saved his and my brother's asses more than once," Diego's tone sounds like he's giving a lecture, but there's a glint of amusement in his blue eyes, "but maybe you're right."
"Of course I am," Samuel replies, "I'm the bitter old man, I get to be right, at least."
"Burdisso!" Diego calls out with a grin, "take this man away from me! He's calling himself old and bitter, and only one is true!"
"The old one?" Demichelis teases from nearby.
"You can only wish you'd preserve yourself like he has for the past ten or more years, Micho, looking just like you did in your twenties, with barely some grey hair." Burdisso says, going over to where Samuel and Milito are sitting, with a deck of cards and a mate in hand. "Now come here, be a little unfaithful to Jonas and play with us."
"All right, but I'm knocking on your door if he kicks me out tonight."
While Burdisso starts dealing cards, Samuel talks close to Diego who's now sitting next to him because they're playing against each other at truco, "'still worried?"
"I'll live," Diego waves it off, but his eyes go back to Gonzalo a few times during the game.
.
"What were you and Samuel talking about earlier today?" Gonzalo asks, he has his eyes on the TV but his voice is loud enough to call Diego's attention away from his computer.
"You," Diego answers honestly, he sees no point on lying to Gonzalo.
There's a second of silence, someone screams to someone else on TV and Diego considers turning and clarifying that he didn't say anything per se. Higuaín talks before he can, "what about me?"
"I told him I was worried about you," Diego says slowly, thinks this is a good way to bring up the subject that has him concerned, "I didn't tell him why, just told him that."
"He didn't ask?"
"Walter doesn't talk much, at least not when he knows not to."
"Okay," Gonzalo says, "you shouldn't be anyway."
"Yeah, he said something like that," Diego replies with a hint of bitterness in his voice, "repeated the same Cambiasso keeps telling me back in Milan about how much I worry."
"Maybe you do."
"Can't help it, older brother and father of two, worrying is a must."
"I'm not your brother or your kids."
"That's true," Diego gives in, and turns to face Gonzalo who's looking back at him, "you're my partner and you're in the same room with me, I get to care because of that."
"If it bothers you, I can ask to have another room."
"If it bothered me just because of plain annoyance, you would've known a while ago" Diego replies with a roll of eyes, "are you even going to talk to me about it or should I wait for the next time I wake up with you throwing up your insides?"
Gonzalo looks at him with what Diego believes is a horrified look, "since when do you know?"
"Since the first time," Diego thinks a second after talking, and corrects himself, "or what I believe was the first time, after the first match."
"Yeah, it was."
Diego nods, even if he's not sure what he's nodding at.
"That's all the explanation I get?"
"There's not much more," Gonzalo says with a shrug, "is not like I'm bulimic or anorexic or anything like that. I don't like throwing up," he makes a face when he says that; "as a matter of fact I hate it. It's just, I don't know, I need to do it, I feel so sick that I need to, well, vomit."
"Have you ever talked about it?" Diego asks, but something else comes to his head and adds another question, "wait, since when has this been going on?"
"Since I started to play for River, I don't know," Gonzalo shrugs again, tries to look away from Diego and distracts himself with the TV a moment before remembering he didn't answer fully. "And yes, I've talked to doctors, and I'm as healthy as it gets."
"And what about, erm, psychological help?" Diego doesn't say 'psychiatric' even if that's the word he's actually thinking about.
"That, too," Gonzalo nods, "they said it was some sort of 'stage fright' which made not much sense, since I had no issue being on the field. Then a woman wanted me to talk a lot about my family, apparently it has to do with that, which may be true, I don't know. And then a guy told me once that I was, ah, hysterical."
Diego makes a short laugh to that, not helping himself, "sorry," he says stopping abruptly, "sorry but-"
"I know, I've laughed too, it's fine."
"So?"
"So what?"
"So, what else?"
"There's nothing else, it ends there."
"But you're not doing anything about it."
"I'm dealing with it."
"Gonzalo, you throw up every time you-oh."
"What?" Higuaín asks, sitting up a bit.
"You throw up every time you don't score." Diego replies, realization hitting him like a splash of cold water right in his face, it felt dreadful.
"Not exactly," Gonzalo wants to argue, Diego notices, but he seems to give up for some reason and admits, "yeah, mostly. When I don't do something right, I'm not good at, uh, dealing with it, a therapist said something like that once."
"Then you should-"
"Diego, it's fine, really, no one even notices, and the docs always say I'm fine, so, really, there's nothing there," Gonzalo gets up while talking, "Samuel and Cambiasso are right, you worry too much," he says before entering the bathroom.
"What are you doing?" Diego calls out.
"Showering!" Gonzalo screams back, and after that Milito can hear the water starts running.
He sighs, and doesn't point out how Gonzalo showered just before dinner, less than two hours ago.
.
When Gonzalo scores, Diego's cheerfulness and laugh mixes the happiness of winning with what the goal means to Higuaín. He doesn't stop to think about it, but there must be something wrong about that. He doesn't care about that, he cares about that night, and celebrates inside his head that he won't have to see Gonzalo at his weakest.
.
"We're there! We made it to quarters again! Four years ago I was sitting at my dad's bed thinking this, and now I'm playing it, it's awesome," Diego nods, he doesn't say 'me too' or anything like that because he doesn't feel it, not like that. He's happy. He's glad, he does feel part of it yet... well, he's not playing.
"Aren't you happy?" Gonzalo inquires while they walk to the elevator together. It's late, after the game they all shared some time together in the dining room and now they had been sent to bed.
"Of course I'm happy," Diego says, and almost feels offended with Gonzalo's question.
"You don't look like it, sorry."
There's no more interaction after that, mostly because they're soon joined by other teammates. Lio is talking nonstop with Kun, and Verón jokes to Maxi about letting them share the room for the night, to which Rodriguez agrees at the start, but Messi refuses later and Kun supports him saying that if they don't break apart they wouldn't get any sleep at all. Diego has no idea how that feels, and wonders in silence if he's mad about it. His experience in the national team isn't as prolific as it has been with the clubs he has played for. He doesn't know what it feels like to be young and inexperienced in the national team; he only lived that throughout his brother. He remembers his conversation with Higuaín from a few days ago and still thinks the same: he's not lucky, not at all, not with this.
Someone pokes his side and Diego is almost sure he'll see Gonzalo's inquiring eyes on him, but to his surprise the one to blame isn't him but Agüero, who at some point stopped talking to Messi. Diego looks at him waiting for a reason, even if it wouldn't be the first time Kun pokes him without any point, the look in Sergio's eyes seem thoughtful.
"He's been staring at you the whole night."
"Who?" Diego asks, in the same whispering voice he has no idea why Sergio is using.
Kun rolls his eyes, "Pipa," he says as if it was the most obvious thing on Earth.
Diego looks taken aback for a second, but he composes himself quickly while he sees Di María and Otamendi exit on a floor before the rest, "and what where you doing looking at him all night?"
"Hey, don't make this shit about me," the other responses, and Diego would think he's mad if it wasn't for the smile that tries to sneak out of his lips, "I just couldn't help to notice."
"Are you two going to keep up the secrety talk or are you planning on going down?" Verón teases from the recently opened door he was holding by standing in the middle of it, after everyone else had left the elevator.
"We're going down," Diego answers, and shoves the comment off with a smile, "and don't give me that look, I'm not you."
"Blue eyes and a lot more hair," Kun points out.
"Thank you for stating the obvious Sergio," Verón replies.
"I try," the younger one answers before disappearing in the direction Maxi was walking in.
"That was uncalled for," Verón complains to Milito.
"So was your comment," he smiles, "good night Bruja."
"Good night Príncipe," Verón encloses Diego in a short hug before letting him go, Sebastián has become too touchy lately, too sensitive.
"Hey, where did Pipa go?"
"He ran off the elevator as soon as the door opened. If you hadn't been talking to Sergio then-"
"Oh, shut up," Milito cuts him, "go to your room."
Verón grins before each of them takes their route; Diego walks to his door still with a beam. When he tries to open the door he fails, which makes no sense because Gonzalo surely walked in before him and he was holding the key and he knew Diego wasn't with him, so he should have let it open.
"Pipa?" he calls out, knocking. There's no immediate response, until Diego hears a muffled laugh.
"I know you're in there, and you're too old for this game."
"In any case, you're too old," says Higuaín's voice from the door.
"All right, I'm old; you're grown up," Diego amends, "open up anyway."
"Secret password?"
"Higuaín is an idiot."
"Dude, you're outside the room, that won't get you far." Higuaín says trying to sound reasonable.
"I'm not going to compliment you over a door for you to let me in."
"I'm not asking for that."
"The guys are going to bed, and we're bothering them, probably won't even let them sleep if we keep talking so loud because of the door."
There's no reply to that, and Diego assumes it made Gonzalo think and that he'll open the door soon. He assumes wrong, a moment after the silence he feels his phone vibrating inside his pocket; when he grabs it, it reads 'G. Higuaín'.
"Oh my God," he sighs before picking up.
"Hi!" says Gonzalo's cheerful voice.
"Hello."
"This way you can whisper and I can still hear you."
"You're being a child," Diego says and indeed he's talking in a much lower tone than before, "how long do you plan on having me out here?"
"As long as it takes," Gonzalo replies easily. Diego wonders where he is, if he's still against the door or if he moved to the bed or to other sides of the room.
"As long as it takes me to guess the secret password?"
"That," Gonzalo nods, "and you gotta tell me why you're not happy."
"I am happy Gonzalo, I already told you that," Diego replies.
"It doesn't show."
"I'm glad you scored," he says, too, not as an answer per se, more as a fact he wanted to state. He also sits down while talking, he's tired and he's not sure how long Higuaín is going to have him out here, so he rests his back against the wall next to the door and stretches his legs on the floor.
"Thank you, I did it for you," Gonzalo replies as if he didn't really care about what he's saying, and Diego wants to chime in, wants to ask him why and what did he mean with that, but he has no chance as Higuaín keeps talking. "But I don't know, you seem off, like miles away, and we gotta be here man, you know that, you've told me that, like, in our first training day."
"I'm here," Diego says, "of course I am, I'm here and I'm with you guys."
"Then what is it?"
"You're too pushy today."
"You're rubbing on me."
Diego smiles a bit to that, he can't help himself, "I was thinking about my bad luck, but it'll go away in a bit, and I'll enjoy our triumph fully again."
"But you're not-"
"Gonzalo, I am, okay?" Diego isn't in the mood to hear that again, he'd like to be inside his room for starters and he's not receiving a lecture on luck from Gonzalo Higuaín, no way. "You may not notice because you are young and you are lucky; but I just turned thirty-one and this is my first and much likely my last World Cup. I am of course already thankful and glad to be part of this, mostly thinking about how some pretty awesome players were left out, but excuse me if I get a little bitter after every game when I notice how I have never been able to show what I can do while playing for the National Team. You don't get to have a say about this, because you didn't feel it and I don't think you ever will. You are lucky, and yes of course you're talented as hell, that's beyond discussion, but this is not about you, or about Martín or about Sergio, this is about me. That's why I deal with it on my own and in my silence, and it has nothing to do with being happy or not, because I am. Believe me, I'm thrilled, and I hope like nothing else that we take that motherfucking cup back home, with me on the bench or on the field, I don't give a damn about that. I just need ten minutes or less of my own piece of mind to wonder one hundred what-ifs and then I'll be done."
"Wow."
"What? I talk a lot sometimes."
"No, well, yeah, that too, but," Gonzalo pauses and Diego has no idea why, "how do you do it?" he asks, and at the same time he opens the door.
"Do what?" Diego asks to the phone and he feels stupid for doing that when Gonzalo is standing right in front of him, even if he is also holding his phone.
"Deal with that."
"I have things to rely on," Diego explains with a shrug, while getting up and shutting down his phone, "I have people, I talk about it, and most of all I know I always do the right thing. I always do what I should do, I give as much as I can, I do my part of the deal."
"Maybe that's what I don't have."
"Things to rely on?" Diego offers.
Gonzalo nods, "things, people."
"Maybe," Diego agrees while walking into the room, wonders why he has the need to say 'you have me', but holds it back.
Gonzalo looks at him while closing the door, "sorry for making you talk to me from outside the room."
"It's fine," Diego isn't annoyed anymore, he's more tired than anything, "now you'll have to let me shower first."
"I think that's fair," Higuaín smiles.
.
Maxi smacks him in the head, hard.
"Hey!" Diego complains, rubs with his hand where he was hit and gives Maxi a questioning look, "what was that for?"
"Because even if I agree with you, don't do that to me again."
Diego smiles a bit, a tiny hint of sadness on it, "like I said already, I didn't mean it in a bad way, it was an honest, matter-of-fact comment."
"Well, warn me or something. You surprised me and I didn't know what to do."
"You did fine Maxi, really," Diego tries his big brother smile and Maxi sighs, defeated (it always works).
"You deserve-"
"Oh, shut up," Diego doesn't even want to hear those words.
"Fine!" Maxi tries to sound exasperated but he looks pretty amused, and after a second he pulls Diego into a hug. It's not as discomfited as it was with Verón but it's still a bit odd, at least at the first second or so until the surprise goes away and it is indeed a mutual hug. Diego thinks they're all doing it too much these days, but says nothing about it.
"Guys, all good in there?"
Maxi laughs in Diego's neck and it tickles him, and makes him think of long afternoon practices and his younger years.
"Diegui, your roommate is jealous," Maxi says, still sounding amused.
"I'm not!" Gonzalo says, and Diego is smiling a bit too, "it's just that, well, you've been hugging for a while now."
Maxi is still laughing when he lets go of Diego, "I'm heading back, see you later," he says to the older one and barely waves to Higuaín.
When they're alone Milito gives Gonzalo an odd look.
"What?" Gonzalo asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Nothing…"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes?"
"Didn't we talk about this yesterday?"
Milito stares at him for a moment before knowing what Gonzalo is talking about, he's also distracted about what looks like Higuaín trying to give him a lecture or maybe to be the old one, the wise one, for once. His smile goes away before he answers, "I didn't mean it in a bad way, does anyone really fully listen to me?"
"I do," Aguero calls out from behind them, "but if you two don't listen to our coach and come back, you'll get in trouble."
"We'll follow you in a second, Kun."
"Why do you two get along so well? Shouldn't you, I don't know, hate each other for your clubs' sake?"
"Oh, we do," Diego nods, "in our own way. But we've shared more than a day together, because of my brother; plus here we are together, we are on the same team."
They start walking in silence. Diego wonders what Gonzalo is thinking about and considers asking, but maybe the player forgot that they were talking and is now more interested in the food they'll get and the time off they'll soon have.
"Diego?" Gonzalo calls for his attention.
"Mhm?"
"Don't say things like that again, I know they're true but,"
"Stop taking them personally when they're not Pipa," he shrugs it off, "I didn't mean it against you or Martin, or Aguero or even Maradona. I was just stating a fact."
"Awful fact," Gonzalo says, and speeds up his steps, leaving Diego a bit behind.
Milito gives him a half smile before also speeding up to match Gonzalo.
.
It's a little after two am according to his phone, and Diego trusts his phone.
Gonzalo went to the bathroom and came back more than twenty minutes ago. It did happen again, like Diego knew it would after that day's brief training. He didn't get up this time, at least not fully. He barely left his bed to grab a bottle of water and take it to the bathroom, but the door was locked, so he just left it on Gonzalo's table and got back to his bed after turning off the light. Diego isn't sure what bothers him most (and therefore doesn't let him sleep): if Gonzalo's total and complete acceptance of his situation without doing anything about it, or the fact that even knowing about it himself hasn't told it to anyone else. Maybe it's both things, added to how Gonzalo completely displeased his help by not letting him in, which in Milito's head makes no sense because Gonzalo hasn't rejected him before. In fact, all the contrary.
"Diego?" the voice is so soft Diego wonders if he's actually meant to hear it.
"Yes?" he finally asks.
"Sorry I locked the door," Higuaín replies as if he was also answering Diego's silent reproach.
"Don't worry," Diego says, even if it's not true, because he doesn't know what else to say, because he's way too frustrated with all this.
"I don't know why I did it," he confesses, "I don't think it's 'cause I didn't want you in, because I did. So I dunno, I just locked it."
"Don't worry Gonzalo, really," Diego repeats, "sleep."
"You're not sleeping."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because I'm having the moral dilemma about telling someone about this or not."
"Please don't."
"Why not?"
"Because people don't get it."
"I don't get it, either."
"I know," Gonzalo says, "but you're like me, and you try."
Diego doesn't say 'I'm not like you at all' even if he thinks about it, even if that's what he feels; he doesn't say anything at all.
"Diego?" again, the same tone.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"Don't, I really don't think I'm helping."
And he's sure he's not.
.
"What about your brother?" he asks, it feels like he hasn't talked to Gonzalo for a while even if it's just been a few hours. He actually thought about that question a few days ago, when he saw the other Higuaín brother and his dad with Gonzalo.
"What about him?" Gonzalo asks without looking up from his laptop. Around them everyone is minding their own business, doing what they do when they have free time in their hands.
"He never noticed? You never talked to him about it?"
"I don't know how it is with you and Gabriel, but with Fede we don't talk much."
"Why?"
"We're too competitive I guess, playing in practically the same position isn't good for brotherly love," Gonzalo shrugs, he's still watching the computer, "he hates me."
"Don't be an idiot," Milito says rolling his eyes.
"He does, since we played in River together, or after, when he was sent to play for Chicago, he hates me because I'm lucky, just like you do."
"Don't be an idiot," Milito says again, and this time he sounds honestly angry, "I don't hate you."
Milito walks away and he's not sure why he's so mad out of a sudden, he even ignores Samuel calling him to offer a mate and a game of cards. He goes to his room because he needs to think without being bothered, or just because he wants to be away from everyone for a while.
Things don't go as planned because he hasn't even made himself comfortable in the room when Higuaín walks in. Diego doesn't wait for Gonzalo to say anything, he's the first one talking, "I thought I made myself perfectly clear when I said it wasn't about you, or about anyone besides me."
"I'm sorry."
"You're not, not now, and not last night when you locked the bathroom door," Diego replies.
"I'm sorry I said you were like my brother," Gonzalo clarifies.
"Well you should be, because I'm not him. For starters I do notice, I noticed since the first time, and second, I don't hate you; right now I may want to smack your head to see if I can make some sense get into it, but I don't hate you. I don't even know you that much."
"You want to smack my head?" Gonzalo almost laughs, "you're such a dad."
"I would never hit my kids," Diego says, "and I've also imagined drowning you in the bathtub or suffocating you with a pillow, but those options require too much work."
"Hey, how did you go from smacking to murdering?"
"I'm a patient man, but I have limits and you've blown them all."
"I'm awesome."
"You're an idiot."
"And you keep telling me that."
"Must be for some reason, don't you think?"
"Mhm," Gonzalo nods, "Diego?"
"Yes?"
"Would you practice with me tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Diego?"
"Now what?"
"Can I say thank you for this?"
Milito rolls his eyes, "yes, you can."
"Thank you then."
Diego considers leaving, if he wanted peace he won't get it with Higuaín there, but there's a movie starting on TV and he can relax enough with that, even if his partner stays; plus, lying down on his bed sounds more than okay for him. Yet, before being able to focus on the movie there's something he wants to say, and now seems like the perfect time, "Gonzalo, one thing."
"Yeah?"
"If you lock the door again, I'm telling the doctor and Maradona about it, is that clear?"
There's a silence, but Diego isn't backing up on what he said so Higuaín can only accept it or risk to be exposed.
"Yes," is the final reply. Diego can live with that for now.
.
Diego wakes up a little before his alarm, which is a feeling he's always liked. The clock says he still has ten more minutes to be lazy in bed if he wants to before he actually has to get up, shower, go have breakfast and do everything he ought to do. The game against Germany is still far, yet he can almost feel it around the corner, mostly for the way people is acting: his teammates, journalists, everyone.
He grabs the remote and turns on the TV just out of habit, the volume is high and he curses under his breath because it scared him.
"Turn that shit down," says as protest a voice from the other bed.
"Don't talk like that."
"Don't be a dad."
Diego beams to that, "can't, I have two kids at home and I have you here."
"I'm not your child," says Gonzalo's voice muffled by the covers, "you want to hit me, remember?"
"Hard to forget."
"Just checking," he finally open his eyes, "what time is it?"
"Ten to nine."
"Sweet, I have ten minutes, plus the twenty you take in the shower, g'night."
"You could shower first…"
"No way, and let me sleep."
"Lazy."
"and tired!" he turns in his bed and Diego laughs softly, presses the 'mute' button on the TV and goes shower.
When he's out Gonzalo is still sleeping.
"Oh for heaven's sake," he mutters while walking to the bed, "wake up."
"No!"
"Gonzalo Higuaín, get your ass out of that bed!"
"No," Gonzalo says softly, his eyes closed and his mouth barely moving with a noticiable mocking tone "and don't say ass Diego."
Diego sighs and leaves his things in the chair near the still closed window, he considers opening the curtains to let the light in, since Gonzalo is facing that direction; he decides to give him another chance before doing such a cruel thing.
"If you don't get up," he says, walking near the bed again, poking Gonzalo's shoulder, "I'll let the sun in."
"I can sleep with the sun, I'm not a vampire."
"Yay," Diego replies with heavy mockery, "really, you're never this hard to wake up."
"I'm feeling lazy."
"So you say," Diego agrees, and again he's poking Gonzalo.
"Oh, stop that!" Gonzalo grabs Diego's hand shocking him, and pulls it close to him, making Diego lose balance and practically fall into the bed.
"You big-" Diego is planning on calling him an idiot, because that's the insult he uses with Gonzalo and knows that he doesn't take it personal. He plans on sitting up from the bed and going straight to open the curtains and tickle him out of the bed if necessary. Diego, as usual, has great plans. Yet all of his plans fail this time because of Gonzalo's plan. Gonzalo's plan is much simpler, because after he made Diego almost fall into his bed, he hits him by surprise when pushing his mouth into Diego's open-in-the-middle-of-a-sentence mouth.
It's not at all a kiss. Is the awkward meeting of two lips, there's no grace into it as much as bumping. Diego is still surprised and his eyes are open, he's not doing anything and Gonzalo isn't of great help, he also seems caught off guard by his very own actions. Milito ends up making the smarter choice, and finishes the whole action when recovering control of his own balance and stepping away from Gonzalo's personal space.
They're in silence until Milito talks, with a sly smile on his lips, "good thing you play soccer much better than you kiss."
"Hey! That's unfair! And I could-"
"Shower, now. It's already late, don't make me go to open the curtains."
"Bitch," Gonzalo says under his breath as Diego, who doesn't even pretend to be offended by that comment, walks away from the room.
.
Training session goes as smooth as it should. If Maradona could move them as dolls he wouldn't have done it better. The cameras cover most part of it, the game itself and the after ritual that they always share.
Diego is in a good mood and so is Gonzalo. Verón is the only one who taunts them about it, but Gonzalo can easily ignore him and laugh, while Diego enjoys making jokes with anything he can think about against Verón. They do stay behind, like they've done before. This time Maradona stays with them for a while, he says how good it is to have them both bonding, working together as the team they are. This is what Milito was saying in that old interview with Olé before the World Cup started.
They're late for lunch, and later on they're also late for supper; even Maradona wants to make a comment about it, but they're both taking practice, and mostly practicing together, so seriously that no one actually dares.
.
Diego knows this is a bad idea, and actually, both of them know it, there's no excuse for what they're doing (yet it's not like they sat around waiting for one). This won't change anything, this won't make them understand each other better on the field, this won't solve or hide Gonzalo's issues. But somehow it makes sense, because they've been roommates, they're stuck in this together, they play in similar ways (sometimes even too alike and other times awfully dissimilar), most days they're the last ones coming back from training and Maradona usually talks to them as if they were only one person.
That's why; that and the failed kiss earlier that morning. That's the reason why Gonzalo, when they came back to the room, started to say he definitely knew how to kiss, he started to taunt Diego that he could ask around and no one would tell him the opposite. Milito played it cool, didn't give Gonzalo his full attention and bothered him saying he had trust issues in that area. The jokes moved to bets, to challenges. "I bet you can't", "I bet you won't" and other things of the like were said. They were pestering each other with dares and defies as they didn't do on the field, in their teams outside the NT.
All that justifies Diego's behavior and Gonzalo's response; it's the only reasonable explanation to how Diego has Gonzalo pressed against one of the walls in their room, with his hands on Higuaín's waist and his mouth on Gonzalo's.
This time there is a kiss. An open-mouthed, hungry, defiant kiss, with both of them acting on it, eyes closed and lips busy with each other. Gonzalo runs around Diego's lips with his tongue, teases around before digging into Diego's mouth, before their tongues also meet in the classic battle for dominance that Diego wins as easily as any other argument with Higuaín.
"I can kiss," says Gonzalo into Diego's skin after he moves his mouth, "I can kiss very fucking well," he adds, planting small open-mouthed kisses along Diego's jaw and into his neck.
"That you can," Diego says, and he may sound a bit out of breath but that doesn't stop him, "doesn't mean you know how to do it."
"Help me practice with this too, then," Gonzalo replies back, and puts his mouth against Diego's again, and they're kissing like at that start, not slowing down and not even caring if they're bruising each other from the pressure.
Higuaín tries to push Diego away from the wall, tries to get some control over Milito's body, but doesn't succeed at all; Diego is in control and he's not giving that away, as he makes clear by pushing back into the wall, Gonzalo's back bumping lightly into it and making him hiss inside Diego's mouth.
There's a knock on the door and both of them freeze. Diego has his hands on Gonzalo's body, and Gonzalo is grasping onto Diego as if his life depended on it. Neither of them talks and there is another knock.
"Diego?" Agüero's voice is unsure outside and Milito curses quietly without thinking against Gonzalo's lips.
"We're getting into bed Kun, what is it?" he says, and decides that if his voice sounds off Agüero should blame it on the sleepiness.
"Your brother called me twice, he says you're not picking up your phone," he explains, "want me to call him and tell him why?"
Milito sighs, and ignores how Gonzalo decides it's all right to start sucking his neck with Agüero on the other side of the door.
"No," he answers, while pinching Gonzalo's middle to make him stop, which causes a tiny laugh against his neck, "I'll call him, don't worry. Thanks Kun."
"Sorry for waking you up. G'night."
"Good night."
Milito lets go of Gonzalo and steps back while Agüero surely returns to his room.
"Are you really gonna call your brother now?"
"If you prefer Agüero coming back to the room to check on me, that's your thing, but I don't," Milito takes the phone he had thrown on his bed when they first entered the room, and sees there are a few texts and two missed calls. His fault honestly, he had told Gaby he could call him after dinner.
"Don't take too long."
Milito gives him a look, for a second he actually thinks about replying to that, but instead he turns and dials Gabriel's phone number.
When Diego finishes talking Gonzalo is lying down on Diego's bed instead of his own, t-shirt off, and fully asleep; Milito has to put a hand on his mouth to shut down the small laugh that the image brings up. He considers waking Gonzalo up and making him move to his own bed, but instead he grabs some of the extra covers that are inside the closet and wraps him with those. He holds the impulse to kiss Gonzalo's forehead and goes to sleep in his roommate's bed.
He falls asleep at some point after one am.
.
dos
.like a broken rose.
milito/higuaín. gen progressing to slash. worldcupverse. selección argentina. sensitive subjects. rated pg-15. title from nana's opening.
"Con el Pipa somos muy compatibles, podemos jugar juntos sin problemas.
Somos parecidos y diferentes a la vez.
Tenemos características similares, quizás yo soy un poco más de área
y él tiene más desequilibrio por las puntas,
pero jugamos por todo el frente de ataque
y nos podemos complementar".
-Diego Milito, about playing with Higuaín.
"Sinceramente no,
no es una presión, es un desafío.
Son situaciones del partido lo de convertir."
-Gonzalo Higuaín, about having Milito on the bench.
"Diego, keep an eye on him, will ya?" Maradona says to him like he says everything: careless, easy going, as if he's not making a big deal out of it. Milito nods, because that's not only Maradona talking to him and telling him what to do, that's also his coach and the one he ought to obey.
"What is it?" Diego asks, and the question is for Gonzalo, who's staring at the ball as if it was his biggest enemy.
"Weren't you watching?" Gonzalo murmurs, eyes still down.
"Watching what?" Diego feels lost, "I was on the other side with Mancuso and Sergio talking about shoots to tease our starting defense."
"Ah," Higuaín finally looks up, " couldn't score for the life of me, either I missed or Chiquito caught it, I'm having a pretty shitty day."
"It's been what, thirty minutes since your practice started, give yourself a break. And honestly, it's good that our goalkeeper can catch a ball or two, right?"
"Right," he agrees, but he mutters something else Diego doesn't hear.
"Say that again," he asks, not wanting to sound too demanding but not able of helping it.
"My dad used to say to my brother and I that in five minutes you could lose your starting position."
Diego blinks to that, thinks about his own father and the ways he always encouraged him and Gaby, even when they were both starting in the bench, how that was enough for Jorge; Diego assumes that that's the difference between having a father who was a soccer player and one who wasn't.
"All right then," Diego nods, "according to your father, how long would it take to have it back?"
"A full day of training," Gonzalo answers with something in his voice that Diego can't recognize.
"Very well, we'll be training the whole day."
"Diego you don't hav-"
"Of course I do," Milito cuts in, he feels like he's talking to Gabriel for a second, but pushes that thought away from his head by focusing on the training because they're playing against Nigeria tomorrow.
.
Diego wakes up because he's a light sleeper.
His younger brother had night terrors, and that got him used to paying attention to everything that went on when the lights were off, and in the present time he's the father of two young kids: for him any noise during the night is disturbing because it's not right, because it shouldn't be there, because it means there's something going on.
It takes Diego almost a whole minute to adjust his eyes to the lack of light, the room for him is a blurry dark space he isn't very used to just yet, even if they've been in there for almost a month (his room, after all, is one of the places in which he spends the less time). When he starts to search for sources of light, like the hole where the window is, he finds none, which assures him that it must be pretty late. There is, however, a small halo of light calling out for attention. It comes from the bathroom to the left of Gonzalo's bed, and the door is closed.
Then it happens again.
At the start it's a guttural noise, a cough stifled or mixed with something else, hard to recognize for Milito's ears, but after a moment it becomes almost familiar and Diego is confident about knowing what it is that's breaking the room's silence: a retch. Rasping, nasty and disgusting, it makes Diego's own stomach feel sick at the start, before the realization chimes in, when he notices what is going on and how little to no sense it makes. Gonzalo was the only other person in the room, why is Gonzalo throwing up in the bathroom at- Diego has no idea what time it is, so he searches for his phone on the night stand. The light from it causes him to blink a few times before he can actually watch the screen and read its content: ten past three, am. Knowing the time doesn't help him at all, but it gives him a stupid sense of security. He hears it again, which brings him back to the train of thoughts he interrupted before (why is Gonzalo throwing up at 3 am?). The part of Diego that's an older brother and a father wants to get up, make sure Higuaín is okay, wonder if Gonzalo would have wanted to call him (or anyone) for help, but couldn't or was ashamed.
Diego isn't sure what the right actions to do in this situation are, so before doing something impulsive that he would have done in his twenties (why is José so sick after going to a club? He said he'd behave, maybe I should call the doctor… and for a whole week, Chatruc didn't talk to him), he tries to analyze everything in the coldest way he can. Why is Higuaín sick? Maybe he ate something heavy during dinner, his mind tells him, but after a moment of that idea, he remembers that even if there were celebrating the first victory and his birthday, there was nothing out of the ordinary on the table.
Diego wonders what else it could be, he thinks about something he heard once regarding to some people that reacted badly to changes of water and environment, but that didn't make much sense either, mostly because they had been there nearly a month and this hadn't happened until this day. But - but what if he hasn't noticed? What if it has been going on since the start and he never noticed until today? In that case, Gonzalo should have told the doctor about it. And maybe he did, which would mean that Diego is over-worrying (something he does a lot) about something that's completely under control, and if he gets up and goes over there he'll end up only making himself and Higuaín uncomfortable.
Diego breathes heavily wishing he could just turn off his head for a second. It doesn't happen so he makes a decision: if he hears anything again, he'll get up, at least to ask something stupid like "everything okay there?" even if he gets a few curses and a "go away" as a reply. Okay, fine, Gonzalo wouldn't curse at him, Diego isn't sure why he knows that, but he's pretty certain about it.
Nothing happens.
A minute, two or maybe three go by. Milito is mutely waiting for anything that gives him a clue about what to do next, and the noise that finally occurs isn't the one he expected for but the known sound of the toilet being flushed, as strong and insolent as any other resonance before in the room. Then it's all quiet, and maybe Gonzalo is walking to the lavatory, idea that's confirmed when the sound of water running comes through the door. Then it opens, and with that Diego closes his eyes, stops moving, assumes Gonzalo turned off the lights leaving the room in full darkness as it should have been. Diego maybe hears or maybe imagines Higuaín's footsteps going towards the bed and climbing there, fighting with the sheets and the covers to fit inside them, to be comfortable and peaceful as if he hadn't moved at all.
Milito considers calling out Gonzalo's name, asking him if he's fine, making sure there's nothing he should know or he should be taking care of. He doesn't know if there's a right way to put it, to ask without sounding like he has been listening to Gonzalo throw up without doing much more than just staying in the other room without moving, even if that's exactly what happened. Thinking about that, about the proper way to ask or to say anything, he falls asleep. The next time he opens his eyes there's sunshine trying to come in all the way through the window and the water from the shower sounds as strong and fresh as the new day. He's too surprised about Gonzalo having gotten up before him like to give anything else a thought.
.
That morning during practice Diego thinks about going over to Gonzalo and saying something soft like 'I heard you getting up late last night, is everything all right?' but no matter how much he considers the idea, it sounds forced, fake and built up. And it is, but Diego can't help it.
Milito stares at him during lunch, glances back and forth between Gonzalo and his plate just to confirm that there's nothing wrong going on there: Higuaín eats fine. He's neither being picky about his food nor eating too much or too little. There's clearly nothing to see there, but Diego isn't sure what else he can do besides observing from far away like a witness who knows something that the rest ignores. At least it's the only option that doesn't involve going to talk to the team doctor or Maradona and stepping over Gonzalo's word, as if he was a kid who can't take care of himself.
That's not a good idea, Diego thinks while he eats slowly; he hasn't even asked Gonzalo about it, he doesn't know his view of things, his opinion on the matter, and maybe he should; after all this is about him and Diego only knows what he heard, meaning he has no real idea.
Diego drinks his water and looks at Gonzalo, who's laughing at something Mario is saying. He thinks that maybe he's simply blowing things out of proportion and that what happened last night was a random incident, a bad night, and for all he knows Pipa already went to the doctor for advice and care.
Yes, Gonzalo is a smart and conscientious guy, he certainly did that. Diego nods to himself when he comes to that conclusion.
"Are you mad at me?" Agüero's voice from the other side of the table snaps him back to reality.
"Eh, no, why?"
"You haven't said a word in the whole meal."
Diego looks at him, smiles cheekily remembering an old anecdote from the team, "well, not all of us feel the need to fill up every gasp of air with conversation, Sergio."
"Oh, fuck you," Agüero insults, but he's grinning.
Diego doesn't think about Gonzalo and last night during the rest of the lunch or dessert, too distracted and somehow amused with Burdisso and Samuel arguing about the best kind of yerba for mate.
.
It doesn't happen again.
Diego stays awake until a little after one a.m. and Higuaín sleeps the whole time. It doesn't look like anything is going to disturb his serene rest. Just in case, in a sort of desperate act, Diego sets up his phone alarm for it to ring a little after three and hides his phone under his pillows.
At three-thirty-something he opens his eyes and the room is dark, there's no light anywhere, there's no bathroom door closed and no halo under it. Everything is in rightful silence. He falls asleep before he can start to complain to himself about being an idiot.
.
Diego is actually happy for him after the match vs. South Korea. Romero even points out he's happier than Higuaín himself and if Heinze agrees, Milito just decides to ignore them both for talking nonsense.
The thing is that Gonzalo with that much confidence isn't good for the team: it's awesome. Gonzalo scoring three goals in the same match had so many good points that Diego could ignore how he wasn't on the starting team or given the same fair amount of opportunities. It was okay, everything was all right. Argentina kept winning and they were happy, it was enough for him, it made him smile; but it had always been easy to make Diego smile, mostly to forget when things didn't go the way he would like. Sometimes, his own positive thinking made him laugh a bit.
"What are you laughing at?" Gonzalo jumps at him from behind on the walk back from the bus to the hotel.
"You," Diego replies, and it's not entirely untrue.
"Oh," Gonzalo seems to consider something, "well, if it comes from you, it's all right." After that statement, Higuaín lets go of Milito's back and walks faster with some of the other guys.
Diego beams again - there goes happy, friendly Gonzalo, who hasn't felt sick since the day after the first game. Diego almost forgot about the whole thing. Almost.
.
He's not mad at Martín - that makes no sense actually; he's pleased to see someone like him, at his age, after all the bad things he's gone through, can accomplish something like that. But. But his pride is a little hurt. Verón said it better that he was able of expressing it: he said it was back luck with enhanced words and in a more technical way. He'll surely say something like that to the press and Milito is thankful for that.
He sits down at the end of the bench in the dressing rooms, after most of the players left, after Mardona hugged him once more and said he had so much faith on him it couldn't fit in all the stadiums in South Africa or even the world. Milito doesn't say anything about it even if the worst side of him is making snappy remarks inside his head (where's that positive thinking now?). He's a patient man and he'll continue with that. It takes Diego out of his absorption when someone sits down in front of him on the floor, Indian-style, hair wet and a worried face.
"Yes?" Diego asks when Gonzalo doesn't talk.
"Nothing," Higuaín shrugs his shoulders.
"Then, what are you doing?"
"Uh, you were like, sulking, so I thought I'd be a good friend if I sat down and sulked with you." Gonzalo explains simply, and as an afterthought adds, "we're sulking right?"
"No, we're not," Milito denies, "we're wondering if we'll ever be lucky."
Gonzalo stares at him, he almost looks horrified and Diego has no idea what he said.
"You gotta be kidding me," he blurts out, and before Milito can reply he adds, "you lead the team you root for to championship after thirty-something years, you are loved and adored in Genoa, you got to play in the same team than your brother, now you're like the most wanted scorer in Italy and a fussy coach like Mourinho talks about you as if you're made of scores and pretty things. Really."
"José is not fussy, he's special." Diego smiles when he says that, and Gonzalo grins as a response.
"Stupid," he says back, "can my stupid roommate come to the bus with me?"
"Fine," Milito agrees, and when they get up he gives Gonzalo a long look, "did you really come to sulk with me? What are we, five?"
Gonzalo looks offended and he grabs Diego by the waist, "shut up."
"And also, when did you learn my biography?"
Gonzalo is quiet for a second as they walk, still joined, "there was this show at TyC before the World Cup started about every player…"
Diego smiles then, and when he notices Gonzalo isn't going to finish the sentence he confesses, "I watched yours, too."
.
This time it's not that late, there aren't lights outside, of course, and the room is pretty dark, but as soon as he notices something off, Diego sits up on his bed and turns on the dim light from his nightstand. While sitting, he has his feet still against the floor, with his thin white socks as the only barrier between the carpet and his skin; his eyes are lost somewhere in the semi-darkness. The silence in the room is as deafening as the crowd on the stadium was earlier that day, and it helps to echo the noises from around.
He hears it again, just like the first time days ago. At least this time he doesn't jump because of it. It's without any doubt a heave along with other gagging noises; it's exactly the same than two or so weeks ago. Diego isn't disgusted by the situation per se like he may have been the first time, he's aghast with whatever reason is behind it.
With an impulse, he does it. It's maybe the third or fourth time that he hears the same noise, so this time he gets up from the bed, grabs a bottle of water from the ones that room servise had left for them earlier and walks the short steps to the bathroom door.
In front of it, he has another moment of hesitation, but he thinks in sassy, cheerful Gonzalo going over to him earlier that day and believes he owes this to him at least. So he knocks on the door and without waiting for an answer he knows he won't get, walks in, carefully. Gonzalo is there, in the floor, as pale as the rest of the room and for a second or less Diego thinks about the first time Gabriel got drunk in his life, thinks about the amusement behind the whole thing, how he could say "I told you so" to his brother and how together they hid it from their parents. This time, there's nothing to make fun about or laugh or enjoy, Diego has nothing to say and if not running to the doctor or to Maradona counts as hiding, then that's the only thing alike. Gonzalo doesn't talk when he sees Diego, he barely straights himself up a bit on the floor, and without saying anything either, Diego hands him the bottled water.
"Spit the first one," he says, when he sees Gonzalo taking the bottle to his mouth. Higuaín does as he's told, he even spits twice before finally swallowing the third drink.
Diego looks at him from the corner of his eyes while pretending to pay attention to the bathroom, because he doesn't know if leaving would be all right or not, he's not even sure if he wants to leave. Higuaín doesn't give him enough time to think, not being able of stopping himself when another retch hitches in his throat and he ends up throwing up the water he just drank. Milito doesn't watch him for respect, and he starts to consider the chance of calling the team doctor. He doesn't do it because Gonzalo, as if reading his mind, talks to him, with a raspy voice that doesn't sound like him and that sounds much shyer than normal, "don't worry, I'm a bit of a pussy. My brother always said that."
Diego makes a face, but says nothing, ignores the feeling of wanting to punch the older Higuaín brother for not knowing how to be a brother. Instead, he walks closer to where Gonzalo is, very cautiously making sure he's not disturbing the younger man; when he's not stopped on his tracks, he goes on and sits down in the bathtub edge, far enough to give Higuaín his space, but closer than before. Gonzalo turns his head to watch him as he leaves the water between the two of them and does nothing, says nothing, besides staring at Diego.
Diego stares back, he's used to be the older one and have (and have to have) a sort of answer or solace, but this time he's not sure he feels like that. He doesn't have a response at all, he mostly has questions, many of them. But it's not the time to ask those, so he barely shrugs his shoulders and looks away for a moment.
Higuaín doesn't seem to mind, any of it, and Diego notices that when he looks down to him again, something he does when he feels Gonzalo's hand, the one that was a bit cold and wet from holding the water, against his leg. The hand moves forward until it meets with Diego's own, and it tangles with it in complete silence. None of them talk.
At least Gonzalo doesn't throw up again.
.
They have five days to prepare the match; Maradona has them under the obligation to relax in the afternoons, and that makes Diego a tiny bit more eager than normal because he's bored, and when he's bored he thinks too much, qualms too much. Mostly with what happened last night still in his head and without a real resolution or explanation of any sort. This is something that, by the way, Gonzalo hasn't brought up after they went to bed, and Diego isn't sure if he should, but someone has to do it.
Yet, Diego sees Higuaín there, sitting with the rest of the guys, laughing, talking, being overall okay, and he feels like he shouldn't ruin that, stain it with something Gonzalo won't want to talk about for sure. Diego wonders, while pretending to read a magazine and staring from time to time to the Real Madrid scorer, since when this has been happening, if anyone else ever noticed, if it happens all the time and the precise reason why it happens. It makes Diego believe it has something to do with Gonzalo and his game on the field or with how he acts, because it doesn't look like only a health issue appearing on assorted days, all different from each other which doesn't help Diego to know what exactly triggers this behavior, or what puts it off, which ever way you want to look at it. After the match against South Korea Gonzalo was dead tired and immensely happy, he had an outstanding performance and he had all the right to be so content; even if at some moments Diego considered that the rest of the team was more eager than the scorer, he had seen Gonzalo giggle and joke and be more than okay that whole day. And that night, Diego was sure, nothing had happened, nothing bad.
Then last night happened, after the match against Greece where Gonzalo hadn't played at all. He didn't do well or bad, because he didn't have a chance; but it wasn't because Higuaín was off that he was put away, it was only to make sure he rested, to make sure he'd be okay for the next game. Then why did that Gonzalo? Was he scared that Diego himself or Palermo or even Agüero could steal his place? That was stupid, even after the match Gonzalo should have noticed that his place on the team was not at all in danger. Still, that night after the match, he had been just as sick as after the first match, if not worse.
"What has you so distracted today?" Samuel asks, sitting down in front of him with an inquisitive gaze and a bottle of water in his hands.
"I'm fine," Diego lies and reads something about bad weather around the world without much attention.
"You're not, I've been seeing your pretty face too much in this past year or so, and I can tell when it doesn't look fine."
"You've talked more in that sentence than you have in the whole week, do you feel fine?"
"Fuck off, it's not like you came to ask anyway. "
Diego feels bad for that, 'cause it's true. He was so caught up with Gonzalo that he didn't take a look at his teammate and friend. "You never like to talk, anyway," he offers as a lame excuse.
"I don't, but you could have asked."
Diego looks up to him, Walter's blue eyes are lost in the room and his profile is as hard as ever, "and what could I tell you anyway?" he says in a soft voice, "I could have said welcome to the bench, get comfy, but you hate my morbid sense of humor."
"Because it really doesn't suit you, Diego."
"It does, you just don't like it."
"Maybe," Walter turns his head and they're staring at each other, Diego then smiles up a bit, forcing Walter to do the same. "How did your brother ever stay mad at you more than an hour?"
Diego now grins, "he didn't."
"Of course," Samuel sighs, "now, are you gonna tell me?"
"I'm worried about him," Diego responds pointing with his head to where Gonzalo is.
"Star boy number two?" Walter asks and gets a nod in response, "why? It's not like he'll be worried about you."
"I don't know, and it's not that, it's just... I'm worried."
"You worry too much, Cuchu is right."
"Cambiasso should remember that my worrying too much saved his and my brother's asses more than once," Diego's tone sounds like he's giving a lecture, but there's a glint of amusement in his blue eyes, "but maybe you're right."
"Of course I am," Samuel replies, "I'm the bitter old man, I get to be right, at least."
"Burdisso!" Diego calls out with a grin, "take this man away from me! He's calling himself old and bitter, and only one is true!"
"The old one?" Demichelis teases from nearby.
"You can only wish you'd preserve yourself like he has for the past ten or more years, Micho, looking just like you did in your twenties, with barely some grey hair." Burdisso says, going over to where Samuel and Milito are sitting, with a deck of cards and a mate in hand. "Now come here, be a little unfaithful to Jonas and play with us."
"All right, but I'm knocking on your door if he kicks me out tonight."
While Burdisso starts dealing cards, Samuel talks close to Diego who's now sitting next to him because they're playing against each other at truco, "'still worried?"
"I'll live," Diego waves it off, but his eyes go back to Gonzalo a few times during the game.
.
"What were you and Samuel talking about earlier today?" Gonzalo asks, he has his eyes on the TV but his voice is loud enough to call Diego's attention away from his computer.
"You," Diego answers honestly, he sees no point on lying to Gonzalo.
There's a second of silence, someone screams to someone else on TV and Diego considers turning and clarifying that he didn't say anything per se. Higuaín talks before he can, "what about me?"
"I told him I was worried about you," Diego says slowly, thinks this is a good way to bring up the subject that has him concerned, "I didn't tell him why, just told him that."
"He didn't ask?"
"Walter doesn't talk much, at least not when he knows not to."
"Okay," Gonzalo says, "you shouldn't be anyway."
"Yeah, he said something like that," Diego replies with a hint of bitterness in his voice, "repeated the same Cambiasso keeps telling me back in Milan about how much I worry."
"Maybe you do."
"Can't help it, older brother and father of two, worrying is a must."
"I'm not your brother or your kids."
"That's true," Diego gives in, and turns to face Gonzalo who's looking back at him, "you're my partner and you're in the same room with me, I get to care because of that."
"If it bothers you, I can ask to have another room."
"If it bothered me just because of plain annoyance, you would've known a while ago" Diego replies with a roll of eyes, "are you even going to talk to me about it or should I wait for the next time I wake up with you throwing up your insides?"
Gonzalo looks at him with what Diego believes is a horrified look, "since when do you know?"
"Since the first time," Diego thinks a second after talking, and corrects himself, "or what I believe was the first time, after the first match."
"Yeah, it was."
Diego nods, even if he's not sure what he's nodding at.
"That's all the explanation I get?"
"There's not much more," Gonzalo says with a shrug, "is not like I'm bulimic or anorexic or anything like that. I don't like throwing up," he makes a face when he says that; "as a matter of fact I hate it. It's just, I don't know, I need to do it, I feel so sick that I need to, well, vomit."
"Have you ever talked about it?" Diego asks, but something else comes to his head and adds another question, "wait, since when has this been going on?"
"Since I started to play for River, I don't know," Gonzalo shrugs again, tries to look away from Diego and distracts himself with the TV a moment before remembering he didn't answer fully. "And yes, I've talked to doctors, and I'm as healthy as it gets."
"And what about, erm, psychological help?" Diego doesn't say 'psychiatric' even if that's the word he's actually thinking about.
"That, too," Gonzalo nods, "they said it was some sort of 'stage fright' which made not much sense, since I had no issue being on the field. Then a woman wanted me to talk a lot about my family, apparently it has to do with that, which may be true, I don't know. And then a guy told me once that I was, ah, hysterical."
Diego makes a short laugh to that, not helping himself, "sorry," he says stopping abruptly, "sorry but-"
"I know, I've laughed too, it's fine."
"So?"
"So what?"
"So, what else?"
"There's nothing else, it ends there."
"But you're not doing anything about it."
"I'm dealing with it."
"Gonzalo, you throw up every time you-oh."
"What?" Higuaín asks, sitting up a bit.
"You throw up every time you don't score." Diego replies, realization hitting him like a splash of cold water right in his face, it felt dreadful.
"Not exactly," Gonzalo wants to argue, Diego notices, but he seems to give up for some reason and admits, "yeah, mostly. When I don't do something right, I'm not good at, uh, dealing with it, a therapist said something like that once."
"Then you should-"
"Diego, it's fine, really, no one even notices, and the docs always say I'm fine, so, really, there's nothing there," Gonzalo gets up while talking, "Samuel and Cambiasso are right, you worry too much," he says before entering the bathroom.
"What are you doing?" Diego calls out.
"Showering!" Gonzalo screams back, and after that Milito can hear the water starts running.
He sighs, and doesn't point out how Gonzalo showered just before dinner, less than two hours ago.
.
When Gonzalo scores, Diego's cheerfulness and laugh mixes the happiness of winning with what the goal means to Higuaín. He doesn't stop to think about it, but there must be something wrong about that. He doesn't care about that, he cares about that night, and celebrates inside his head that he won't have to see Gonzalo at his weakest.
.
"We're there! We made it to quarters again! Four years ago I was sitting at my dad's bed thinking this, and now I'm playing it, it's awesome," Diego nods, he doesn't say 'me too' or anything like that because he doesn't feel it, not like that. He's happy. He's glad, he does feel part of it yet... well, he's not playing.
"Aren't you happy?" Gonzalo inquires while they walk to the elevator together. It's late, after the game they all shared some time together in the dining room and now they had been sent to bed.
"Of course I'm happy," Diego says, and almost feels offended with Gonzalo's question.
"You don't look like it, sorry."
There's no more interaction after that, mostly because they're soon joined by other teammates. Lio is talking nonstop with Kun, and Verón jokes to Maxi about letting them share the room for the night, to which Rodriguez agrees at the start, but Messi refuses later and Kun supports him saying that if they don't break apart they wouldn't get any sleep at all. Diego has no idea how that feels, and wonders in silence if he's mad about it. His experience in the national team isn't as prolific as it has been with the clubs he has played for. He doesn't know what it feels like to be young and inexperienced in the national team; he only lived that throughout his brother. He remembers his conversation with Higuaín from a few days ago and still thinks the same: he's not lucky, not at all, not with this.
Someone pokes his side and Diego is almost sure he'll see Gonzalo's inquiring eyes on him, but to his surprise the one to blame isn't him but Agüero, who at some point stopped talking to Messi. Diego looks at him waiting for a reason, even if it wouldn't be the first time Kun pokes him without any point, the look in Sergio's eyes seem thoughtful.
"He's been staring at you the whole night."
"Who?" Diego asks, in the same whispering voice he has no idea why Sergio is using.
Kun rolls his eyes, "Pipa," he says as if it was the most obvious thing on Earth.
Diego looks taken aback for a second, but he composes himself quickly while he sees Di María and Otamendi exit on a floor before the rest, "and what where you doing looking at him all night?"
"Hey, don't make this shit about me," the other responses, and Diego would think he's mad if it wasn't for the smile that tries to sneak out of his lips, "I just couldn't help to notice."
"Are you two going to keep up the secrety talk or are you planning on going down?" Verón teases from the recently opened door he was holding by standing in the middle of it, after everyone else had left the elevator.
"We're going down," Diego answers, and shoves the comment off with a smile, "and don't give me that look, I'm not you."
"Blue eyes and a lot more hair," Kun points out.
"Thank you for stating the obvious Sergio," Verón replies.
"I try," the younger one answers before disappearing in the direction Maxi was walking in.
"That was uncalled for," Verón complains to Milito.
"So was your comment," he smiles, "good night Bruja."
"Good night Príncipe," Verón encloses Diego in a short hug before letting him go, Sebastián has become too touchy lately, too sensitive.
"Hey, where did Pipa go?"
"He ran off the elevator as soon as the door opened. If you hadn't been talking to Sergio then-"
"Oh, shut up," Milito cuts him, "go to your room."
Verón grins before each of them takes their route; Diego walks to his door still with a beam. When he tries to open the door he fails, which makes no sense because Gonzalo surely walked in before him and he was holding the key and he knew Diego wasn't with him, so he should have let it open.
"Pipa?" he calls out, knocking. There's no immediate response, until Diego hears a muffled laugh.
"I know you're in there, and you're too old for this game."
"In any case, you're too old," says Higuaín's voice from the door.
"All right, I'm old; you're grown up," Diego amends, "open up anyway."
"Secret password?"
"Higuaín is an idiot."
"Dude, you're outside the room, that won't get you far." Higuaín says trying to sound reasonable.
"I'm not going to compliment you over a door for you to let me in."
"I'm not asking for that."
"The guys are going to bed, and we're bothering them, probably won't even let them sleep if we keep talking so loud because of the door."
There's no reply to that, and Diego assumes it made Gonzalo think and that he'll open the door soon. He assumes wrong, a moment after the silence he feels his phone vibrating inside his pocket; when he grabs it, it reads 'G. Higuaín'.
"Oh my God," he sighs before picking up.
"Hi!" says Gonzalo's cheerful voice.
"Hello."
"This way you can whisper and I can still hear you."
"You're being a child," Diego says and indeed he's talking in a much lower tone than before, "how long do you plan on having me out here?"
"As long as it takes," Gonzalo replies easily. Diego wonders where he is, if he's still against the door or if he moved to the bed or to other sides of the room.
"As long as it takes me to guess the secret password?"
"That," Gonzalo nods, "and you gotta tell me why you're not happy."
"I am happy Gonzalo, I already told you that," Diego replies.
"It doesn't show."
"I'm glad you scored," he says, too, not as an answer per se, more as a fact he wanted to state. He also sits down while talking, he's tired and he's not sure how long Higuaín is going to have him out here, so he rests his back against the wall next to the door and stretches his legs on the floor.
"Thank you, I did it for you," Gonzalo replies as if he didn't really care about what he's saying, and Diego wants to chime in, wants to ask him why and what did he mean with that, but he has no chance as Higuaín keeps talking. "But I don't know, you seem off, like miles away, and we gotta be here man, you know that, you've told me that, like, in our first training day."
"I'm here," Diego says, "of course I am, I'm here and I'm with you guys."
"Then what is it?"
"You're too pushy today."
"You're rubbing on me."
Diego smiles a bit to that, he can't help himself, "I was thinking about my bad luck, but it'll go away in a bit, and I'll enjoy our triumph fully again."
"But you're not-"
"Gonzalo, I am, okay?" Diego isn't in the mood to hear that again, he'd like to be inside his room for starters and he's not receiving a lecture on luck from Gonzalo Higuaín, no way. "You may not notice because you are young and you are lucky; but I just turned thirty-one and this is my first and much likely my last World Cup. I am of course already thankful and glad to be part of this, mostly thinking about how some pretty awesome players were left out, but excuse me if I get a little bitter after every game when I notice how I have never been able to show what I can do while playing for the National Team. You don't get to have a say about this, because you didn't feel it and I don't think you ever will. You are lucky, and yes of course you're talented as hell, that's beyond discussion, but this is not about you, or about Martín or about Sergio, this is about me. That's why I deal with it on my own and in my silence, and it has nothing to do with being happy or not, because I am. Believe me, I'm thrilled, and I hope like nothing else that we take that motherfucking cup back home, with me on the bench or on the field, I don't give a damn about that. I just need ten minutes or less of my own piece of mind to wonder one hundred what-ifs and then I'll be done."
"Wow."
"What? I talk a lot sometimes."
"No, well, yeah, that too, but," Gonzalo pauses and Diego has no idea why, "how do you do it?" he asks, and at the same time he opens the door.
"Do what?" Diego asks to the phone and he feels stupid for doing that when Gonzalo is standing right in front of him, even if he is also holding his phone.
"Deal with that."
"I have things to rely on," Diego explains with a shrug, while getting up and shutting down his phone, "I have people, I talk about it, and most of all I know I always do the right thing. I always do what I should do, I give as much as I can, I do my part of the deal."
"Maybe that's what I don't have."
"Things to rely on?" Diego offers.
Gonzalo nods, "things, people."
"Maybe," Diego agrees while walking into the room, wonders why he has the need to say 'you have me', but holds it back.
Gonzalo looks at him while closing the door, "sorry for making you talk to me from outside the room."
"It's fine," Diego isn't annoyed anymore, he's more tired than anything, "now you'll have to let me shower first."
"I think that's fair," Higuaín smiles.
.
Maxi smacks him in the head, hard.
"Hey!" Diego complains, rubs with his hand where he was hit and gives Maxi a questioning look, "what was that for?"
"Because even if I agree with you, don't do that to me again."
Diego smiles a bit, a tiny hint of sadness on it, "like I said already, I didn't mean it in a bad way, it was an honest, matter-of-fact comment."
"Well, warn me or something. You surprised me and I didn't know what to do."
"You did fine Maxi, really," Diego tries his big brother smile and Maxi sighs, defeated (it always works).
"You deserve-"
"Oh, shut up," Diego doesn't even want to hear those words.
"Fine!" Maxi tries to sound exasperated but he looks pretty amused, and after a second he pulls Diego into a hug. It's not as discomfited as it was with Verón but it's still a bit odd, at least at the first second or so until the surprise goes away and it is indeed a mutual hug. Diego thinks they're all doing it too much these days, but says nothing about it.
"Guys, all good in there?"
Maxi laughs in Diego's neck and it tickles him, and makes him think of long afternoon practices and his younger years.
"Diegui, your roommate is jealous," Maxi says, still sounding amused.
"I'm not!" Gonzalo says, and Diego is smiling a bit too, "it's just that, well, you've been hugging for a while now."
Maxi is still laughing when he lets go of Diego, "I'm heading back, see you later," he says to the older one and barely waves to Higuaín.
When they're alone Milito gives Gonzalo an odd look.
"What?" Gonzalo asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Nothing…"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes?"
"Didn't we talk about this yesterday?"
Milito stares at him for a moment before knowing what Gonzalo is talking about, he's also distracted about what looks like Higuaín trying to give him a lecture or maybe to be the old one, the wise one, for once. His smile goes away before he answers, "I didn't mean it in a bad way, does anyone really fully listen to me?"
"I do," Aguero calls out from behind them, "but if you two don't listen to our coach and come back, you'll get in trouble."
"We'll follow you in a second, Kun."
"Why do you two get along so well? Shouldn't you, I don't know, hate each other for your clubs' sake?"
"Oh, we do," Diego nods, "in our own way. But we've shared more than a day together, because of my brother; plus here we are together, we are on the same team."
They start walking in silence. Diego wonders what Gonzalo is thinking about and considers asking, but maybe the player forgot that they were talking and is now more interested in the food they'll get and the time off they'll soon have.
"Diego?" Gonzalo calls for his attention.
"Mhm?"
"Don't say things like that again, I know they're true but,"
"Stop taking them personally when they're not Pipa," he shrugs it off, "I didn't mean it against you or Martin, or Aguero or even Maradona. I was just stating a fact."
"Awful fact," Gonzalo says, and speeds up his steps, leaving Diego a bit behind.
Milito gives him a half smile before also speeding up to match Gonzalo.
.
It's a little after two am according to his phone, and Diego trusts his phone.
Gonzalo went to the bathroom and came back more than twenty minutes ago. It did happen again, like Diego knew it would after that day's brief training. He didn't get up this time, at least not fully. He barely left his bed to grab a bottle of water and take it to the bathroom, but the door was locked, so he just left it on Gonzalo's table and got back to his bed after turning off the light. Diego isn't sure what bothers him most (and therefore doesn't let him sleep): if Gonzalo's total and complete acceptance of his situation without doing anything about it, or the fact that even knowing about it himself hasn't told it to anyone else. Maybe it's both things, added to how Gonzalo completely displeased his help by not letting him in, which in Milito's head makes no sense because Gonzalo hasn't rejected him before. In fact, all the contrary.
"Diego?" the voice is so soft Diego wonders if he's actually meant to hear it.
"Yes?" he finally asks.
"Sorry I locked the door," Higuaín replies as if he was also answering Diego's silent reproach.
"Don't worry," Diego says, even if it's not true, because he doesn't know what else to say, because he's way too frustrated with all this.
"I don't know why I did it," he confesses, "I don't think it's 'cause I didn't want you in, because I did. So I dunno, I just locked it."
"Don't worry Gonzalo, really," Diego repeats, "sleep."
"You're not sleeping."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because I'm having the moral dilemma about telling someone about this or not."
"Please don't."
"Why not?"
"Because people don't get it."
"I don't get it, either."
"I know," Gonzalo says, "but you're like me, and you try."
Diego doesn't say 'I'm not like you at all' even if he thinks about it, even if that's what he feels; he doesn't say anything at all.
"Diego?" again, the same tone.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"Don't, I really don't think I'm helping."
And he's sure he's not.
.
"What about your brother?" he asks, it feels like he hasn't talked to Gonzalo for a while even if it's just been a few hours. He actually thought about that question a few days ago, when he saw the other Higuaín brother and his dad with Gonzalo.
"What about him?" Gonzalo asks without looking up from his laptop. Around them everyone is minding their own business, doing what they do when they have free time in their hands.
"He never noticed? You never talked to him about it?"
"I don't know how it is with you and Gabriel, but with Fede we don't talk much."
"Why?"
"We're too competitive I guess, playing in practically the same position isn't good for brotherly love," Gonzalo shrugs, he's still watching the computer, "he hates me."
"Don't be an idiot," Milito says rolling his eyes.
"He does, since we played in River together, or after, when he was sent to play for Chicago, he hates me because I'm lucky, just like you do."
"Don't be an idiot," Milito says again, and this time he sounds honestly angry, "I don't hate you."
Milito walks away and he's not sure why he's so mad out of a sudden, he even ignores Samuel calling him to offer a mate and a game of cards. He goes to his room because he needs to think without being bothered, or just because he wants to be away from everyone for a while.
Things don't go as planned because he hasn't even made himself comfortable in the room when Higuaín walks in. Diego doesn't wait for Gonzalo to say anything, he's the first one talking, "I thought I made myself perfectly clear when I said it wasn't about you, or about anyone besides me."
"I'm sorry."
"You're not, not now, and not last night when you locked the bathroom door," Diego replies.
"I'm sorry I said you were like my brother," Gonzalo clarifies.
"Well you should be, because I'm not him. For starters I do notice, I noticed since the first time, and second, I don't hate you; right now I may want to smack your head to see if I can make some sense get into it, but I don't hate you. I don't even know you that much."
"You want to smack my head?" Gonzalo almost laughs, "you're such a dad."
"I would never hit my kids," Diego says, "and I've also imagined drowning you in the bathtub or suffocating you with a pillow, but those options require too much work."
"Hey, how did you go from smacking to murdering?"
"I'm a patient man, but I have limits and you've blown them all."
"I'm awesome."
"You're an idiot."
"And you keep telling me that."
"Must be for some reason, don't you think?"
"Mhm," Gonzalo nods, "Diego?"
"Yes?"
"Would you practice with me tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Diego?"
"Now what?"
"Can I say thank you for this?"
Milito rolls his eyes, "yes, you can."
"Thank you then."
Diego considers leaving, if he wanted peace he won't get it with Higuaín there, but there's a movie starting on TV and he can relax enough with that, even if his partner stays; plus, lying down on his bed sounds more than okay for him. Yet, before being able to focus on the movie there's something he wants to say, and now seems like the perfect time, "Gonzalo, one thing."
"Yeah?"
"If you lock the door again, I'm telling the doctor and Maradona about it, is that clear?"
There's a silence, but Diego isn't backing up on what he said so Higuaín can only accept it or risk to be exposed.
"Yes," is the final reply. Diego can live with that for now.
.
Diego wakes up a little before his alarm, which is a feeling he's always liked. The clock says he still has ten more minutes to be lazy in bed if he wants to before he actually has to get up, shower, go have breakfast and do everything he ought to do. The game against Germany is still far, yet he can almost feel it around the corner, mostly for the way people is acting: his teammates, journalists, everyone.
He grabs the remote and turns on the TV just out of habit, the volume is high and he curses under his breath because it scared him.
"Turn that shit down," says as protest a voice from the other bed.
"Don't talk like that."
"Don't be a dad."
Diego beams to that, "can't, I have two kids at home and I have you here."
"I'm not your child," says Gonzalo's voice muffled by the covers, "you want to hit me, remember?"
"Hard to forget."
"Just checking," he finally open his eyes, "what time is it?"
"Ten to nine."
"Sweet, I have ten minutes, plus the twenty you take in the shower, g'night."
"You could shower first…"
"No way, and let me sleep."
"Lazy."
"and tired!" he turns in his bed and Diego laughs softly, presses the 'mute' button on the TV and goes shower.
When he's out Gonzalo is still sleeping.
"Oh for heaven's sake," he mutters while walking to the bed, "wake up."
"No!"
"Gonzalo Higuaín, get your ass out of that bed!"
"No," Gonzalo says softly, his eyes closed and his mouth barely moving with a noticiable mocking tone "and don't say ass Diego."
Diego sighs and leaves his things in the chair near the still closed window, he considers opening the curtains to let the light in, since Gonzalo is facing that direction; he decides to give him another chance before doing such a cruel thing.
"If you don't get up," he says, walking near the bed again, poking Gonzalo's shoulder, "I'll let the sun in."
"I can sleep with the sun, I'm not a vampire."
"Yay," Diego replies with heavy mockery, "really, you're never this hard to wake up."
"I'm feeling lazy."
"So you say," Diego agrees, and again he's poking Gonzalo.
"Oh, stop that!" Gonzalo grabs Diego's hand shocking him, and pulls it close to him, making Diego lose balance and practically fall into the bed.
"You big-" Diego is planning on calling him an idiot, because that's the insult he uses with Gonzalo and knows that he doesn't take it personal. He plans on sitting up from the bed and going straight to open the curtains and tickle him out of the bed if necessary. Diego, as usual, has great plans. Yet all of his plans fail this time because of Gonzalo's plan. Gonzalo's plan is much simpler, because after he made Diego almost fall into his bed, he hits him by surprise when pushing his mouth into Diego's open-in-the-middle-of-a-sentence mouth.
It's not at all a kiss. Is the awkward meeting of two lips, there's no grace into it as much as bumping. Diego is still surprised and his eyes are open, he's not doing anything and Gonzalo isn't of great help, he also seems caught off guard by his very own actions. Milito ends up making the smarter choice, and finishes the whole action when recovering control of his own balance and stepping away from Gonzalo's personal space.
They're in silence until Milito talks, with a sly smile on his lips, "good thing you play soccer much better than you kiss."
"Hey! That's unfair! And I could-"
"Shower, now. It's already late, don't make me go to open the curtains."
"Bitch," Gonzalo says under his breath as Diego, who doesn't even pretend to be offended by that comment, walks away from the room.
.
Training session goes as smooth as it should. If Maradona could move them as dolls he wouldn't have done it better. The cameras cover most part of it, the game itself and the after ritual that they always share.
Diego is in a good mood and so is Gonzalo. Verón is the only one who taunts them about it, but Gonzalo can easily ignore him and laugh, while Diego enjoys making jokes with anything he can think about against Verón. They do stay behind, like they've done before. This time Maradona stays with them for a while, he says how good it is to have them both bonding, working together as the team they are. This is what Milito was saying in that old interview with Olé before the World Cup started.
They're late for lunch, and later on they're also late for supper; even Maradona wants to make a comment about it, but they're both taking practice, and mostly practicing together, so seriously that no one actually dares.
.
Diego knows this is a bad idea, and actually, both of them know it, there's no excuse for what they're doing (yet it's not like they sat around waiting for one). This won't change anything, this won't make them understand each other better on the field, this won't solve or hide Gonzalo's issues. But somehow it makes sense, because they've been roommates, they're stuck in this together, they play in similar ways (sometimes even too alike and other times awfully dissimilar), most days they're the last ones coming back from training and Maradona usually talks to them as if they were only one person.
That's why; that and the failed kiss earlier that morning. That's the reason why Gonzalo, when they came back to the room, started to say he definitely knew how to kiss, he started to taunt Diego that he could ask around and no one would tell him the opposite. Milito played it cool, didn't give Gonzalo his full attention and bothered him saying he had trust issues in that area. The jokes moved to bets, to challenges. "I bet you can't", "I bet you won't" and other things of the like were said. They were pestering each other with dares and defies as they didn't do on the field, in their teams outside the NT.
All that justifies Diego's behavior and Gonzalo's response; it's the only reasonable explanation to how Diego has Gonzalo pressed against one of the walls in their room, with his hands on Higuaín's waist and his mouth on Gonzalo's.
This time there is a kiss. An open-mouthed, hungry, defiant kiss, with both of them acting on it, eyes closed and lips busy with each other. Gonzalo runs around Diego's lips with his tongue, teases around before digging into Diego's mouth, before their tongues also meet in the classic battle for dominance that Diego wins as easily as any other argument with Higuaín.
"I can kiss," says Gonzalo into Diego's skin after he moves his mouth, "I can kiss very fucking well," he adds, planting small open-mouthed kisses along Diego's jaw and into his neck.
"That you can," Diego says, and he may sound a bit out of breath but that doesn't stop him, "doesn't mean you know how to do it."
"Help me practice with this too, then," Gonzalo replies back, and puts his mouth against Diego's again, and they're kissing like at that start, not slowing down and not even caring if they're bruising each other from the pressure.
Higuaín tries to push Diego away from the wall, tries to get some control over Milito's body, but doesn't succeed at all; Diego is in control and he's not giving that away, as he makes clear by pushing back into the wall, Gonzalo's back bumping lightly into it and making him hiss inside Diego's mouth.
There's a knock on the door and both of them freeze. Diego has his hands on Gonzalo's body, and Gonzalo is grasping onto Diego as if his life depended on it. Neither of them talks and there is another knock.
"Diego?" Agüero's voice is unsure outside and Milito curses quietly without thinking against Gonzalo's lips.
"We're getting into bed Kun, what is it?" he says, and decides that if his voice sounds off Agüero should blame it on the sleepiness.
"Your brother called me twice, he says you're not picking up your phone," he explains, "want me to call him and tell him why?"
Milito sighs, and ignores how Gonzalo decides it's all right to start sucking his neck with Agüero on the other side of the door.
"No," he answers, while pinching Gonzalo's middle to make him stop, which causes a tiny laugh against his neck, "I'll call him, don't worry. Thanks Kun."
"Sorry for waking you up. G'night."
"Good night."
Milito lets go of Gonzalo and steps back while Agüero surely returns to his room.
"Are you really gonna call your brother now?"
"If you prefer Agüero coming back to the room to check on me, that's your thing, but I don't," Milito takes the phone he had thrown on his bed when they first entered the room, and sees there are a few texts and two missed calls. His fault honestly, he had told Gaby he could call him after dinner.
"Don't take too long."
Milito gives him a look, for a second he actually thinks about replying to that, but instead he turns and dials Gabriel's phone number.
When Diego finishes talking Gonzalo is lying down on Diego's bed instead of his own, t-shirt off, and fully asleep; Milito has to put a hand on his mouth to shut down the small laugh that the image brings up. He considers waking Gonzalo up and making him move to his own bed, but instead he grabs some of the extra covers that are inside the closet and wraps him with those. He holds the impulse to kiss Gonzalo's forehead and goes to sleep in his roommate's bed.
He falls asleep at some point after one am.
.
dos