restless
title restless
pairing sergio ramos/fernando torres, implied iker casillas/david beckham, sergio ramos/iker casillas
word count 569
disclaimer i lie
prompt 071. broken
summary sergio can't sleep, so he calls iker.
note i can't sleep and i don't know why, so i woke up an hour ago and wrote this. i still can't sleep. whatever.
Sergio purses his lips and lets out a soft groan of discontent, almost afraid to glance over at the alarm clock, which tells him in glowing letters and no uncertain terms that it is 4.30am and he should be sleeping, because he has training tomorrow, has to be rested, his eyelids are so heavy and he really just wants to close them and drift off, but-
He can’t.
Not with the empty space next to him, the extra pillow, the extra side of the bed. Not without a warm body for him to press his cold feet against, not without the steady sound of Fernando’s breathing to lull him back to sleep and Fernando’s lovely, long fingers to stroke his spine until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Sergio groans miserably as he turns, over and over, unable to sleep but unwilling to be awake, falling fitfully in and out of dreams of weeks ago.
Because everything had changed so abruptly, from that one night when Fernando told him he was leaving, and two weeks later he was gone, and a month later, Sergio still couldn’t sleep, and while he couldn’t stop thinking about the older boy, Sergio refused to call him like this, vulnerable and desperate, because Fernando had left, left Madrid and Spain and Sergio, and forfeited the right to fix Sergio, fix the mess he’d made because he just couldn’t know how broken he’d left Sergio -wouldn’t have left is he did, Sergio tells himself over and over again on nights like these- and Sergio was going to do his damned best not to let it show.
So he calls Iker instead, whispers a broken plea, and a half an hour later, Sergio is stumbling into Iker’s apartment, tucking himself into bed next to the bleary-eyed goalkeeper, pressing himself against the long, warm body, burying his face against Iker’s neck, and Iker’s arms form a loose circle around him and his long, lovely fingers -hands of God, they say- rub small circles into his back, pressing just right, and there, in his warmth, Sergio can finally fall asleep.
When he wakes up a few hours later, he can hear Iker moving about the kitchen and Sergio has enough presence of mind to feel vaguely ashamed of himself, but mostly grateful, because Iker understands, knows what it’s like to suddenly be alone after years of being together- just as they don’t talk about Fernando, they don’t talk about David. They don’t need to, just as Sergio doesn’t need to explain himself to the keeper, doesn’t need to tell him how empty his bed feels and how there’s something beating against his ribcage as if it’s trying to break out of his chest but he isn’t sure what it is anymore, just wants it gone, and somehow, Sergio doesn’t feel dirty, crawling into Iker’s bed night after night- this is not the first time he’s driven across town in the early morning. Can’t feel dirty about this because there’s something in the way Iker holds him that makes him feel loved, makes him feel a little less abandoned, makes him feel a little less like a child. And at the same time, strangely, more like a child, because Iker has always known how to take care of him.
Grateful because, bathed by that understanding and held together by Iker’s arms, Sergio can begin to feel whole again.
pairing sergio ramos/fernando torres, implied iker casillas/david beckham, sergio ramos/iker casillas
word count 569
disclaimer i lie
prompt 071. broken
summary sergio can't sleep, so he calls iker.
note i can't sleep and i don't know why, so i woke up an hour ago and wrote this. i still can't sleep. whatever.
Sergio purses his lips and lets out a soft groan of discontent, almost afraid to glance over at the alarm clock, which tells him in glowing letters and no uncertain terms that it is 4.30am and he should be sleeping, because he has training tomorrow, has to be rested, his eyelids are so heavy and he really just wants to close them and drift off, but-
He can’t.
Not with the empty space next to him, the extra pillow, the extra side of the bed. Not without a warm body for him to press his cold feet against, not without the steady sound of Fernando’s breathing to lull him back to sleep and Fernando’s lovely, long fingers to stroke his spine until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Sergio groans miserably as he turns, over and over, unable to sleep but unwilling to be awake, falling fitfully in and out of dreams of weeks ago.
Because everything had changed so abruptly, from that one night when Fernando told him he was leaving, and two weeks later he was gone, and a month later, Sergio still couldn’t sleep, and while he couldn’t stop thinking about the older boy, Sergio refused to call him like this, vulnerable and desperate, because Fernando had left, left Madrid and Spain and Sergio, and forfeited the right to fix Sergio, fix the mess he’d made because he just couldn’t know how broken he’d left Sergio -wouldn’t have left is he did, Sergio tells himself over and over again on nights like these- and Sergio was going to do his damned best not to let it show.
So he calls Iker instead, whispers a broken plea, and a half an hour later, Sergio is stumbling into Iker’s apartment, tucking himself into bed next to the bleary-eyed goalkeeper, pressing himself against the long, warm body, burying his face against Iker’s neck, and Iker’s arms form a loose circle around him and his long, lovely fingers -hands of God, they say- rub small circles into his back, pressing just right, and there, in his warmth, Sergio can finally fall asleep.
When he wakes up a few hours later, he can hear Iker moving about the kitchen and Sergio has enough presence of mind to feel vaguely ashamed of himself, but mostly grateful, because Iker understands, knows what it’s like to suddenly be alone after years of being together- just as they don’t talk about Fernando, they don’t talk about David. They don’t need to, just as Sergio doesn’t need to explain himself to the keeper, doesn’t need to tell him how empty his bed feels and how there’s something beating against his ribcage as if it’s trying to break out of his chest but he isn’t sure what it is anymore, just wants it gone, and somehow, Sergio doesn’t feel dirty, crawling into Iker’s bed night after night- this is not the first time he’s driven across town in the early morning. Can’t feel dirty about this because there’s something in the way Iker holds him that makes him feel loved, makes him feel a little less abandoned, makes him feel a little less like a child. And at the same time, strangely, more like a child, because Iker has always known how to take care of him.
Grateful because, bathed by that understanding and held together by Iker’s arms, Sergio can begin to feel whole again.