Forever Chasing Shadows [AU Fic 2/?]
Title: Forever Chasing Shadows [AU]
Characters: Daniel Agger, Martin Škrtel
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don’t own the people, but the plot is mine. This hasn’t happened nor will it ever happen.
Summary: He's so far away...
The sunlight filled his penthouse apartment, blinding him. He climbed from his bed, showered, shaved, brushed his teeth and then sat down at the table. He then remembered he lived alone and fetched his food with a regretting, homesick sigh.
The days were long. He couldn’t even remember what country he lived in, but he knew it wasn’t Europe. He wanted the familiar sights of Copenhagen or the Merseyside weather. He wanted his home. But if he went home, he’d never forgive himself. He missed football, his family and his friends. And that one friend, that one ‘friend’ that had been more than a friend for so long. Martin.
He squinted his eyes, shut them tightly and then opened them, seething. He punched a wall in disgust and collapsed down by the door in floods of tears. This was a daily reoccurrence. He held his head in his hands and cried, sobbed loudly, violently. A small clock in his mind told him he had to work in 2 hours, he had to get ready. But, still, the tears kept falling. He shifted slightly, fumbling through the left front pocket of his jeans and stared at his work identification card.
“Daniel Poulsen,” it read. The Dane shook his head with a small frown and ran his fingers through his longer hair. He constantly had to wear long sleeves because T-shirts were cheaper than skin grafts and he was broke. He lived in an apartment bought for him, not by him. He drove a car that was, once again, bought for him, not by him. He wanted out. He hated the so-called life he was living. He bit his lip, just like he’d always done, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Tightly. He exhaled deeply and clambered unsteadily to his feet. ‘Work, gym, home’ he told himself, not that he needed reminding. He was the most antisocial man at his workplace. Unfortunately, that intrigued his co-workers. And attention was the last thing he needed. Someone would find out.
Someone would find out and realise that he was kidnapped.
Someone would contact the authorities.
He would go home safe.
Martin would be safe.
And suddenly, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea.
After all, they’d find out he was really a footballer, a tattoo artist.
They’d find out that his name was Daniel Munthe Agger.
Characters: Daniel Agger, Martin Škrtel
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don’t own the people, but the plot is mine. This hasn’t happened nor will it ever happen.
Summary: He's so far away...
The sunlight filled his penthouse apartment, blinding him. He climbed from his bed, showered, shaved, brushed his teeth and then sat down at the table. He then remembered he lived alone and fetched his food with a regretting, homesick sigh.
The days were long. He couldn’t even remember what country he lived in, but he knew it wasn’t Europe. He wanted the familiar sights of Copenhagen or the Merseyside weather. He wanted his home. But if he went home, he’d never forgive himself. He missed football, his family and his friends. And that one friend, that one ‘friend’ that had been more than a friend for so long. Martin.
He squinted his eyes, shut them tightly and then opened them, seething. He punched a wall in disgust and collapsed down by the door in floods of tears. This was a daily reoccurrence. He held his head in his hands and cried, sobbed loudly, violently. A small clock in his mind told him he had to work in 2 hours, he had to get ready. But, still, the tears kept falling. He shifted slightly, fumbling through the left front pocket of his jeans and stared at his work identification card.
“Daniel Poulsen,” it read. The Dane shook his head with a small frown and ran his fingers through his longer hair. He constantly had to wear long sleeves because T-shirts were cheaper than skin grafts and he was broke. He lived in an apartment bought for him, not by him. He drove a car that was, once again, bought for him, not by him. He wanted out. He hated the so-called life he was living. He bit his lip, just like he’d always done, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Tightly. He exhaled deeply and clambered unsteadily to his feet. ‘Work, gym, home’ he told himself, not that he needed reminding. He was the most antisocial man at his workplace. Unfortunately, that intrigued his co-workers. And attention was the last thing he needed. Someone would find out.
Someone would find out and realise that he was kidnapped.
Someone would contact the authorities.
He would go home safe.
Martin would be safe.
And suddenly, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea.
After all, they’d find out he was really a footballer, a tattoo artist.
They’d find out that his name was Daniel Munthe Agger.