we'll give ourselves new names (identities erased).
we'll give ourselves new names (identities erased)
For diskarte who gave me this prompt: i want to take you far from the cynics in this town / [...] / we'll give ourselves new names (identities erased).
Fernando Torres/Fernando Llorente, Xabi Alonso, Sergio Ramos, the usual suspects. ~4000 words. AU. | It's weird hearing someone talk about someone with your name who is not you. Xabi's been doing that for a week and a half.
It's always weird meeting someone with your name. It's weird hearing someone talk about someone with your name who is not you. Xabi's been doing that for a week and a half.
But they're just names, right? It shouldn't matter. So much stake shouldn't be put on a word. Your existence, your identity, is much more than that. Or it should be.
Fernando's felt like a ghost for most of his life. Maybe his name is all he has left, to anchor him to the concrete of this city. To anchor him to this world.
*
He finds himself biting his lip, looking down at his beer, when he first meets this other Fernando. He's not aggravating or pretentious or anything. He's not like any of Xabi's usual friends. He's not like Sergio who would probably be dancing, drunk, on the bar of the crowded, smoky club by now. He's not like Iker who Fernando would sit in a corner with and silently judge everyone and their clothes and their accents and everything. Which he would be fine with if he didn't think Iker was judging him too. He's not like Cesc who seems to have the energy of a five-year-old on a sugar-rush and talks a-mile-a-minute about shit Fernando can't even begin to understand, either because he's a genius or stark raving mad. Not even Xabi can ever figure that out, and it's not for a lack of trying.
Xabi likes to pretend otherwise, but Fernando doesn't really have friends. They're just Xabi's friends he tags along with when he's bored of his shithole apartment and telenovelas and take-out for one.
Xabi's been talking about this one a lot, so he knew it was only a matter of time before he met him. He's new in town, so he's still in that awestruck phase, where every little thing about the city is charming. There's nothing charming about this side of town though.
Fernando feels some kind of bitter satisfaction when they all eventually find this out.
Back to reality.
*
Reality shouldn't look as bright as this guy's smile though. Or his too-blue eyes.
"He lives in Sergio's building, actually," Xabi's saying while they're doing the customary introductory segment.
Fernando snorts. "Has he tried to fuck you yet?"
Xabi rolls his eyes, but Fernando just laughs, keeping his blue gaze fixed intently on Fernando's face. It's pretty intimidating, he has to admit; it feels searching rather than intrusive. Fernando knows a lot of people who are bold and relentlessly so for their own agendas, but this is different. It feels like he's just willing Fernando to be as open as he presumably always is. Fernando doesn't know how to handle that.
He lowers his glance, pretends to be studying his hands under the table. He feels like a coward, inexplicably. He doesn't like that. He doesn't like being unnerved.
"So, where do you work?" Fernando says, still looking at him, and leaning even further forward.
Fernando takes a sip of beer, before smiling wryly, and saying, "Didn't he tell you? I work from home. For a phone sex hotline."
He's used that one before (not on Sergio, God no), but the tiny look of shock before the amused expression is worth it.
"Fernando," Xabi says, sharply. The Stop scaring new friends away. is implied. And he's sounding more and more like his mother every day. It's uncanny.
Fernando's still looking at him like he's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, though.
It might actually sting for a second to see this one's optimism fade away.
*
He's almost at his building when he realises someone is following him. He's always mentally compared Xabi's friends to strays, but he didn't think it'd ever be this literal.
He turns around.
"Xabi's probably already asleep, you know. Or doing some 2am drunk-cleaning." He shrugs.
"Yeah, I know." His face brightens even more. "I just wanted to say it was nice to meet you. And I've never called a phone sex hotline, but I'm sure you have the perfect voice for that. Maybe you should try it out. See where it takes you."
Fernando smiles his first genuinely happy smile in a long while. He bites his lip to stop it as fast as he can.
Fernando's already given a half-wave and started walking away when he calls out, "It was nice to meet you too. Fernando."
There's not a noticeable reaction from him, but it's the first time he's said his name all night.
*
The next morning, he opens the door an inch, listens to the sounds in the apartment next door, the toilet flushing, the shower running, and then pots and pans clattering, something cooking on the stove. He counts to twenty before he knocks and casually starts talking about the night before. Xabi says, "Hold on," and disappears into the apartment leaving Fernando's sentence trailing. He comes back and holds out a slip of paper. He doesn't look down at it or up at Xabi's smug face. He just grabs it and turns around just as quickly.
"Shut up," he says, as he goes back into his own apartment, carefully folding the piece of paper with the phone number on it.
*
Fernando's on his lunch break when Xabi calls.
"So..."
"I'm not having this conversation."
"So you like him. You like the Other Fernando?"
"The Other Fernando? Is that his official title?"
"No, but it's how you've been mentally referring to him since you met him."
"So what if I like him? I'm allowed to like people." And he's not turning scarlet. He really isn't.
"But you don't. Usually."
"Because people are usually idiots."
"He doesn't seem like your type at all."
"I have a type?"
"Yeah, you do. You go for the broody, mysterious ones who hate life as much as you claim to."
"That was...nothing."
"Daniel was a lot of things, but 'nothing' wasn't one of them." And if Xabi could ever actually be teasing, this would be it. Fernando legitimately does hate life at this moment.
"Whatever."
"Just don't break his heart this time."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You made him cry. You made a six-foot-three, tattooed Viking cry."
"He wasn't an actual Viking."
"Still. Stop using your pretty face and brutal words to destroy souls."
"I'll try."
"And Fernando?"
"Yes."
"You should call him after I hang up."
And then he does. Fuck.
*
"Hey."
"Hi." He sounds kind of distracted, like he's busy with something, cradling his phone between his ear and his shoulder probably. He realises that he forgot exactly what Fernando told him he did, just that it was in the same office where Xabi works. He supposes there's not enough space in his head to store useful information like that along with a catalogue of all the different smiles Fernando had given him.
"Are you busy or something? I can call back..."
"No, it's okay."
"This is Fernando, by the way, the other Fernando," and it's really kind of disturbing how easily he can imagine his face then. He usually forgets faces easily. He remembers names, details; he remembers important things. This is the exact opposite of that. He doesn't know anything but the insignificant things about this man. It's enough, somehow.
"Yeah, I know." His tone is so warm. Fernando isn't used to people talking to him like that, like he's more, like he's worth more somehow. It's nice. Really nice.
"Yeah... I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out or something. Tomorrow, maybe? I mean, if that's good with you."
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine."
"Okay. You know where I live, obviously. I'll order pizza."
"And I'll bring a six-pack."
"Yeah, great."
*
Fernando lets him in around seven. His smile's just a little more tired than it was the night before, but he still looks very out of place standing in his doorway, surveying the apartment interestedly.
"Yeah, it's small, but -"
"No, it's really great." He directs the full force of the smile at Fernando, and he has to turn away.
Fernando follows him to the couch where he opens two beers and tries to relax.
Fernando's still looking at him in that kind of uncomforting way of his.
"What?" he says, eventually, when the awkwardness is a bit too much.
"Nothing." He looks amused.
"You didn't talk much," he says a second later. He's looking away now, like he's musing on something.
"What?"
"Last night. You didn't talk much. To me, I mean. Well, besides when you were being a smartass." He smiles, belying the insult. "And then you call me out of the blue. Are you going to tell me why?"
He's about to say, Haven't you guessed? but bites his tongue instead.
"Sometimes, I'd rather just listen," he says after a pause where they just sip their beers.
"I'm not that interesting though."
"You say interesting things."
"Really?" He narrows his eyes at him, like he really can't believe it.
"Yes," Fernando says, firmly.
"Okay." Fernando can practically see him make the decision in his head: to ignore his avoidance of the question, to leave it alone for now.
"So, you watch a lot of TV?" he asks, gesturing to the flat-screen.
"Yeah, you know, have to keep up with the soaps."
"Yeah, of course," Fernando says, mock-seriously.
"I watch a lot of animal shows too," he says, abruptly.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I was going to study zoology, actually. Once." And it's weird. He never volunteers information about himself unprompted. Usually.
Fernando, though, grins at him like he's something special.
"That's really cool."
"You didn't go to college, did you?"
"For a while. Dropped out." He shrugs.
"What were you studying?" Fernando asks, before tilting the bottle to his lips again.
"History."
"Oh, I like the History Channel too. Egypt's my favourite," he says, matter-of-factly.
Fernando laughs softly. "Mine too," he says, expression kind of nostalgic suddenly.
He changes the subject, for both their sakes. He actually has some tact sometimes, regardless of what Xabi says.
"Want to watch a movie or something?"
"Yeah. Okay."
*
They're standing in the tiny kitchen, leaning against opposite counters with their bare feet almost brushing on the cool, tiled floor.
"So I figure we should just have sex now."
"Really? You figure?" he replies, bemused but not alarmed, so that's a good sign, at least.
"Yeah, I mean..." He lets out a breath. "You wanted to know why I invited you here."
"And is this why?" He raises an eyebrow, looking slightly curious.
"I don't do this a lot. I'm not Sergio or anything. But I like you. And it's logical."
"Is it?" The corners of his mouth are quirking upwards into a tiny smile now.
"Yes. Just so we can decide if we should just be friends or...more. I mean, there's no point wasting time dancing around it, right?"
"No," he says, softly, eyes darkening.
"Are you objecting?"
"No, I mean, yes. There's no point wasting time."
"Okay."
Fernando takes the beer out of his hands, carefully, sets it down on the countertop. He's already unzipping his pants when Fernando stops his hands with his own, guides his face up to kiss him, so, so gently.
Fernando blows him against the counter. When he comes, he grips the edge so tightly that he gets splinters under his fingernails.
*
They're in Fernando's bed after, not touching except for their fingers when they pass a cigarette between them. Fernando can hear the sounds of the city outside his window. He kind of wants to shut it all out. He doesn't want to share this.
It's a strange sensation, feeling possessive, protective of something like this.
He tries not to think about when, inevitably, he'll have to let it go.
*
Everything's been straightforward to Fernando since he came here. It's about the framework of things and not the intricacies. It's about what he needs at the certain point in time. It's about not needing so much that he won't be able to discard all of it at a moment's notice.
He doesn't think he ever needed Fernando though. It's one of those flights of fancy he never thought he'd have again.
Those are kind of dangerous, because they're unpredictable.
*
He wakes up to a headache and an empty bed. He makes coffee and has a cigarette out on the balcony while the sun is coming up. He looks through stinging eyes and smoke at the light filtering through the grey above the city. Illuminating more grey below, pavements and buildings and infrastructure put in place to trap souls.
Sometimes, he wonders if the sky is just an illusion. Something unreachable to taunt the masses. Maybe there's just smoke and dust and pollution up there and nothing at all above it.
*
He runs into Xabi in the hallway and they walk down together.
"So, I heard someone trying and failing to stealthily sneak out of your apartment this morning."
"Really? Well, I guess it's hard to manage stealth when you're six-five and all the lights are off in that closet I call an apartment that hasn't been cleaned in two months."
"First date, Fernando? I think that's a new record." Xabi tsks at him.
"It wasn't even a real date. It was just pizza and beer and sex."
"You are ridiculous."
*
Fernando's just finishing his shift when his phone rings.
The display says "Other Fernando." Fernando considers it for a second before answering.
"Yeah?"
"So have we come to a decision yet?"
"About what?" Fernando asks, innocently.
"The whole friends or more thing. Anyway, from the way Xabi was looking at me today, I don't think anyone's going to buy that we're just friends. I'm just saying."
"The walls are thin," he replies, dryly.
Fernando laughs.
"How did you meet Xabi anyway? He doesn't say much about it. Just that you've been friends for a couple years."
"He was good to me in a time when I didn't have anything else." Fernando can't remember ever saying that aloud to anyone else.
"So, should I come over tonight?"
"Yeah, there's this documentary about man-eating spiders I've been meaning to watch."
"Sounds lovely. See you in a couple hours."
*
It becomes an easy routine after that. Fernando lets himself become comfortable with it, lets himself fake it real. Fernando shows up outside his building after work most days. They have sex, or just order food and watch documentaries or old movies, or hang out at Xabi's when he's around. Fernando admits he doesn't like bars that much either, so they only go out when Xabi's adamant that he can't bear to see them inside either of their apartments anymore.
He calls up whoever's available that particular night, and so Fernando meets the rest of Xabi's strays, and gets along spectacularly with all them, unsurprisingly.
Even Sergio. Fernando glares murderously at him every time he gets too close, not because he thinks anything's going to happen but because his reactions are kind of hilarious.
The night he's more tipsy than usual and pulls Fernando down for a long kiss in front of everyone is one of the best nights in his recent memory. It's one of the only nights he's been here that he's felt sort of at home.
He doesn't tell him to stay that night.
*
Fernando finds him on the fire escape around dusk, a cigarette between his lips. He sits next to him, his side flush against Fernando. He wonders when his body, his warmth, became such a comfort.
"You look like you don't want to be anywhere you are."
"I don't."
"What are you doing here then?"
"When I first came, I told myself I was saving up for college. Then, that started to look bleak, so I said I was saving up for a better place. Then it was a TV that actually worked... Defining things is hard sometimes, but you have to do it."
"What about your parents?"
"My dad threw me out when he found out I was gay."
"Oh. I'm sorry." And he doesn't sound surprised like he assumed he would. It's a world-wearied sort of sadness instead. It makes him think that Fernando is not as bright and untarnished as he's always thought.
"No, it's not - It's just a fact. It's just an insignificant puzzle piece. It's not who I am. And I don't want pity or anything."
There's a pause in which he just exhales smoke into the grey, into that place between day and night, into the boundary between sky and concrete.
"Sometimes, I feel I could float away and no one would notice. Then I remember there's nowhere else to go."
*
Fernando's been putting this off for the last two months, but it had to happen eventually.
Xabi corners him one night after Fernando leaves.
"So..."
"Ugh. Don't," he warns, but there's no real heat behind it.
"I just wanted to say that you look happier these days."
"Really?"
"Well, anything's an improvement from... Never mind. I just. I think he's good for you. And you're good for him, for some bizarre reason."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Fernando says, rolling his eyes.
Xabi smiles, but then he gets ominously serious.
"Just...don't mess it up."
What happens next is really kind of ironic. Irony he'd appreciate if it didn't suck so much.
*
It's Friday morning when he knocks on his door.
Fernando smiles too brightly when he sees him, against his will.
"Hey, I was just leaving. You want coffee or -"
He stops when he sees his face.
"What's wrong?"
"Something sort of, uh, happened." And if he wasn't concerned before, the way Fernando's deliberately avoiding his eyes is a giant warning sign.
"What happened?" His eyes narrow, scanning his face, and he'd reach out and touch him, as reassurance, but that feels too, too - something. Too intimate, too real.
"I slept with someone." His eyes look dead when he finally turns them upwards to meet Fernando's, just for a second. He doesn't look apologetic or pleading or anything, just kind of small and scared.
"Okay..." he says, blinking kind of rapidly, but mostly succeeding in concealing the barrage of confusing emotions he's feeling.
"It was this guy that I knew in college. He's in town for a few days. We just had a couple drinks and started talking about the good old days and it just...happened."
"Yeah," he says. And then says, "Yeah," again, as if to reassure himself instead. "It's not like -" It's not like what? It's not like this was ever going to permanent, it's not like these things ever last...
Usually, his relationships come with a self-imposed expiry date. He never thought about this one like that though. He should have seen it coming though.
"I'm - I'm sorry." He stops, like he'd decided not to say that beforehand. "I'm not making excuses. I just. I like you a lot. So I thought you should know. And it won't happen again. Because I don't want it to, even if we never promised each other anything."
"Yeah. Right." Fernando starts walking to the door.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine. I just - I have to go to work. So I'll see you."
*
Fernando's goes through the rest of the day like a zombie.
When he gets home, he doesn't get out of bed until Saturday afternoon.
*
Xabi finds him sprawled on the couch, a half-empty bottle of colourless liquid at his lips. He sighs before opening the window and the door to the balcony to get rid of the smell of alcohol and smoke in the apartment.
Fernando starts talking in slurs to the ceiling.
"Ever feel like you're starting to forget something you see every day? Like your face. Or your name." He spits out the last part bitterly.
"You're drunk," Xabi says, evenly. "You only spout seemingly profound nonsense when you're drunk."
Xabi takes the bottle away, pulls him up and off the couch and leads him to his bed.
"Sober up," he says. "Then go talk to him."
*
Fernando's only been to his place a few times. He stands outside his door, feeling like a stranger for a moment. He's always let people into his life a little at a time. It's easier that way, less messy. Easier to let them go. He doesn't ever want to feel like he's being let into someone else's life instead. Fernando makes him want something else though, every now and then.
"You look awful," he says, when he opens the door.
Fernando nods. "Yeah."
He kind of grimaces at him before gesturing him inside.
He doesn't lead him to the couch, leans against the kitchen counter instead. And Fernando takes a deep breath before standing next to him, this time.
He looks like he's waiting, eyes trained down to the floor.
Fernando starts talking, in a way he's never done before.
"Usually, I'd be relieved when something like this happens. Because it's a good excuse to cut and run. Again. I don't really want to though. And I don't understand why."
"What do you want then?"
"I want to know more about you. I want to stop calling you the other Fernando, because you're so much more than that. I want to kiss you in bars and fall asleep with the TV on and I want it to be normal. And enough."
"Are you asking me to go steady?" he says, cracking a smile.
Fernando has to look up at him then, smiling too.
"Yes."
"Okay."
Fernando takes his hand then, threads their fingers together, and he didn't know how much he wanted them to fit until he realised that they did.
*
It's a week later when Xabi interrupts them making-out on the couch to tell them that they're going out for Fernando's birthday the next evening if he has to physically tie them up and drag them outside himself.
*
Fernando shows up at his apartment after work with an unwrapped book about Komodo dragons and a cupcake with a lit candle stuck in the centre.
He thanks him as Fernando lets him lick icing off his finger and then leans down to lick some out of his mouth himself.
*
Everyone's sufficiently buzzed when Cesc starts ranting about the economy and politics and whatever else he deems appropriate post-midnight drunken conversation, with Xabi making insightful comments, and Iker interjecting with well-placed curses.
Sergio shakes his head, as if to say, See what I have to put up with?
"These guys are no fun," he says, then takes another shot.
His face brightens up then as he surveys both Fernandos. "Come on. This is not how you celebrate a birthday."
Sergio pulls them both onto the dance floor and then disappears into the crowd, leaving them alone. Fernando smiles at him, pulls him closer, and wraps his arms loosely around his waist. The music is fast, but they move almost in slow-motion, touching without touching. There are lights flashing off his skin, sweat dripping down his neck, and Fernando wonders how the skin below his ear would taste if he just reached up and pressed his lips to it, surrounded by bodies and the steady pulse of music like a cocoon around them, closing them off to the world.
After a while, Fernando reaches up to link his hands together at the nape of his neck, rests his head gently against his chest, feels his heartbeat there, the loudest thing in the room suddenly.
He doesn't let go for a long while.
*
They're walking down the pavement after, holding onto each other, giggling and trying not to lose their balance and fall into a ditch or something worse. Fernando stops, abruptly, lets go of his arm, and grabs onto a lamp post instead. He spins around it a few times, feeling the night air cold on his face, staring up at the sky. He sits down on the pavement after, dizzy, watching the world spin around him. Fernando sits next to him, puts a hand on his shoulder.
"How far do you think we could get by morning if we leave here now?" he breathes out.
He feels Fernando's grip tense slightly.
"Are you really that unhappy?"
"No," he says, softly. It feels like a confession, something he's kept inside for a long time. It feels like a weakness.
He looks across and up at him, feeling small and childlike again. Fernando smiles, blue eyes almost twinkling as they reflect the light from above.
He touches surprisingly warm fingers to the freckles on his cheeks, raises his face up to kiss him, first on the forehead and then, chaste and familiar, on the mouth.
He stands up and then reaches a hand out for Fernando to take.
Fernando reaches back, no longer feeling unbalanced.
"Let's go home."
For diskarte who gave me this prompt: i want to take you far from the cynics in this town / [...] / we'll give ourselves new names (identities erased).
Fernando Torres/Fernando Llorente, Xabi Alonso, Sergio Ramos, the usual suspects. ~4000 words. AU. | It's weird hearing someone talk about someone with your name who is not you. Xabi's been doing that for a week and a half.
It's always weird meeting someone with your name. It's weird hearing someone talk about someone with your name who is not you. Xabi's been doing that for a week and a half.
But they're just names, right? It shouldn't matter. So much stake shouldn't be put on a word. Your existence, your identity, is much more than that. Or it should be.
Fernando's felt like a ghost for most of his life. Maybe his name is all he has left, to anchor him to the concrete of this city. To anchor him to this world.
*
He finds himself biting his lip, looking down at his beer, when he first meets this other Fernando. He's not aggravating or pretentious or anything. He's not like any of Xabi's usual friends. He's not like Sergio who would probably be dancing, drunk, on the bar of the crowded, smoky club by now. He's not like Iker who Fernando would sit in a corner with and silently judge everyone and their clothes and their accents and everything. Which he would be fine with if he didn't think Iker was judging him too. He's not like Cesc who seems to have the energy of a five-year-old on a sugar-rush and talks a-mile-a-minute about shit Fernando can't even begin to understand, either because he's a genius or stark raving mad. Not even Xabi can ever figure that out, and it's not for a lack of trying.
Xabi likes to pretend otherwise, but Fernando doesn't really have friends. They're just Xabi's friends he tags along with when he's bored of his shithole apartment and telenovelas and take-out for one.
Xabi's been talking about this one a lot, so he knew it was only a matter of time before he met him. He's new in town, so he's still in that awestruck phase, where every little thing about the city is charming. There's nothing charming about this side of town though.
Fernando feels some kind of bitter satisfaction when they all eventually find this out.
Back to reality.
*
Reality shouldn't look as bright as this guy's smile though. Or his too-blue eyes.
"He lives in Sergio's building, actually," Xabi's saying while they're doing the customary introductory segment.
Fernando snorts. "Has he tried to fuck you yet?"
Xabi rolls his eyes, but Fernando just laughs, keeping his blue gaze fixed intently on Fernando's face. It's pretty intimidating, he has to admit; it feels searching rather than intrusive. Fernando knows a lot of people who are bold and relentlessly so for their own agendas, but this is different. It feels like he's just willing Fernando to be as open as he presumably always is. Fernando doesn't know how to handle that.
He lowers his glance, pretends to be studying his hands under the table. He feels like a coward, inexplicably. He doesn't like that. He doesn't like being unnerved.
"So, where do you work?" Fernando says, still looking at him, and leaning even further forward.
Fernando takes a sip of beer, before smiling wryly, and saying, "Didn't he tell you? I work from home. For a phone sex hotline."
He's used that one before (not on Sergio, God no), but the tiny look of shock before the amused expression is worth it.
"Fernando," Xabi says, sharply. The Stop scaring new friends away. is implied. And he's sounding more and more like his mother every day. It's uncanny.
Fernando's still looking at him like he's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen, though.
It might actually sting for a second to see this one's optimism fade away.
*
He's almost at his building when he realises someone is following him. He's always mentally compared Xabi's friends to strays, but he didn't think it'd ever be this literal.
He turns around.
"Xabi's probably already asleep, you know. Or doing some 2am drunk-cleaning." He shrugs.
"Yeah, I know." His face brightens even more. "I just wanted to say it was nice to meet you. And I've never called a phone sex hotline, but I'm sure you have the perfect voice for that. Maybe you should try it out. See where it takes you."
Fernando smiles his first genuinely happy smile in a long while. He bites his lip to stop it as fast as he can.
Fernando's already given a half-wave and started walking away when he calls out, "It was nice to meet you too. Fernando."
There's not a noticeable reaction from him, but it's the first time he's said his name all night.
*
The next morning, he opens the door an inch, listens to the sounds in the apartment next door, the toilet flushing, the shower running, and then pots and pans clattering, something cooking on the stove. He counts to twenty before he knocks and casually starts talking about the night before. Xabi says, "Hold on," and disappears into the apartment leaving Fernando's sentence trailing. He comes back and holds out a slip of paper. He doesn't look down at it or up at Xabi's smug face. He just grabs it and turns around just as quickly.
"Shut up," he says, as he goes back into his own apartment, carefully folding the piece of paper with the phone number on it.
*
Fernando's on his lunch break when Xabi calls.
"So..."
"I'm not having this conversation."
"So you like him. You like the Other Fernando?"
"The Other Fernando? Is that his official title?"
"No, but it's how you've been mentally referring to him since you met him."
"So what if I like him? I'm allowed to like people." And he's not turning scarlet. He really isn't.
"But you don't. Usually."
"Because people are usually idiots."
"He doesn't seem like your type at all."
"I have a type?"
"Yeah, you do. You go for the broody, mysterious ones who hate life as much as you claim to."
"That was...nothing."
"Daniel was a lot of things, but 'nothing' wasn't one of them." And if Xabi could ever actually be teasing, this would be it. Fernando legitimately does hate life at this moment.
"Whatever."
"Just don't break his heart this time."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You made him cry. You made a six-foot-three, tattooed Viking cry."
"He wasn't an actual Viking."
"Still. Stop using your pretty face and brutal words to destroy souls."
"I'll try."
"And Fernando?"
"Yes."
"You should call him after I hang up."
And then he does. Fuck.
*
"Hey."
"Hi." He sounds kind of distracted, like he's busy with something, cradling his phone between his ear and his shoulder probably. He realises that he forgot exactly what Fernando told him he did, just that it was in the same office where Xabi works. He supposes there's not enough space in his head to store useful information like that along with a catalogue of all the different smiles Fernando had given him.
"Are you busy or something? I can call back..."
"No, it's okay."
"This is Fernando, by the way, the other Fernando," and it's really kind of disturbing how easily he can imagine his face then. He usually forgets faces easily. He remembers names, details; he remembers important things. This is the exact opposite of that. He doesn't know anything but the insignificant things about this man. It's enough, somehow.
"Yeah, I know." His tone is so warm. Fernando isn't used to people talking to him like that, like he's more, like he's worth more somehow. It's nice. Really nice.
"Yeah... I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out or something. Tomorrow, maybe? I mean, if that's good with you."
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine."
"Okay. You know where I live, obviously. I'll order pizza."
"And I'll bring a six-pack."
"Yeah, great."
*
Fernando lets him in around seven. His smile's just a little more tired than it was the night before, but he still looks very out of place standing in his doorway, surveying the apartment interestedly.
"Yeah, it's small, but -"
"No, it's really great." He directs the full force of the smile at Fernando, and he has to turn away.
Fernando follows him to the couch where he opens two beers and tries to relax.
Fernando's still looking at him in that kind of uncomforting way of his.
"What?" he says, eventually, when the awkwardness is a bit too much.
"Nothing." He looks amused.
"You didn't talk much," he says a second later. He's looking away now, like he's musing on something.
"What?"
"Last night. You didn't talk much. To me, I mean. Well, besides when you were being a smartass." He smiles, belying the insult. "And then you call me out of the blue. Are you going to tell me why?"
He's about to say, Haven't you guessed? but bites his tongue instead.
"Sometimes, I'd rather just listen," he says after a pause where they just sip their beers.
"I'm not that interesting though."
"You say interesting things."
"Really?" He narrows his eyes at him, like he really can't believe it.
"Yes," Fernando says, firmly.
"Okay." Fernando can practically see him make the decision in his head: to ignore his avoidance of the question, to leave it alone for now.
"So, you watch a lot of TV?" he asks, gesturing to the flat-screen.
"Yeah, you know, have to keep up with the soaps."
"Yeah, of course," Fernando says, mock-seriously.
"I watch a lot of animal shows too," he says, abruptly.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I was going to study zoology, actually. Once." And it's weird. He never volunteers information about himself unprompted. Usually.
Fernando, though, grins at him like he's something special.
"That's really cool."
"You didn't go to college, did you?"
"For a while. Dropped out." He shrugs.
"What were you studying?" Fernando asks, before tilting the bottle to his lips again.
"History."
"Oh, I like the History Channel too. Egypt's my favourite," he says, matter-of-factly.
Fernando laughs softly. "Mine too," he says, expression kind of nostalgic suddenly.
He changes the subject, for both their sakes. He actually has some tact sometimes, regardless of what Xabi says.
"Want to watch a movie or something?"
"Yeah. Okay."
*
They're standing in the tiny kitchen, leaning against opposite counters with their bare feet almost brushing on the cool, tiled floor.
"So I figure we should just have sex now."
"Really? You figure?" he replies, bemused but not alarmed, so that's a good sign, at least.
"Yeah, I mean..." He lets out a breath. "You wanted to know why I invited you here."
"And is this why?" He raises an eyebrow, looking slightly curious.
"I don't do this a lot. I'm not Sergio or anything. But I like you. And it's logical."
"Is it?" The corners of his mouth are quirking upwards into a tiny smile now.
"Yes. Just so we can decide if we should just be friends or...more. I mean, there's no point wasting time dancing around it, right?"
"No," he says, softly, eyes darkening.
"Are you objecting?"
"No, I mean, yes. There's no point wasting time."
"Okay."
Fernando takes the beer out of his hands, carefully, sets it down on the countertop. He's already unzipping his pants when Fernando stops his hands with his own, guides his face up to kiss him, so, so gently.
Fernando blows him against the counter. When he comes, he grips the edge so tightly that he gets splinters under his fingernails.
*
They're in Fernando's bed after, not touching except for their fingers when they pass a cigarette between them. Fernando can hear the sounds of the city outside his window. He kind of wants to shut it all out. He doesn't want to share this.
It's a strange sensation, feeling possessive, protective of something like this.
He tries not to think about when, inevitably, he'll have to let it go.
*
Everything's been straightforward to Fernando since he came here. It's about the framework of things and not the intricacies. It's about what he needs at the certain point in time. It's about not needing so much that he won't be able to discard all of it at a moment's notice.
He doesn't think he ever needed Fernando though. It's one of those flights of fancy he never thought he'd have again.
Those are kind of dangerous, because they're unpredictable.
*
He wakes up to a headache and an empty bed. He makes coffee and has a cigarette out on the balcony while the sun is coming up. He looks through stinging eyes and smoke at the light filtering through the grey above the city. Illuminating more grey below, pavements and buildings and infrastructure put in place to trap souls.
Sometimes, he wonders if the sky is just an illusion. Something unreachable to taunt the masses. Maybe there's just smoke and dust and pollution up there and nothing at all above it.
*
He runs into Xabi in the hallway and they walk down together.
"So, I heard someone trying and failing to stealthily sneak out of your apartment this morning."
"Really? Well, I guess it's hard to manage stealth when you're six-five and all the lights are off in that closet I call an apartment that hasn't been cleaned in two months."
"First date, Fernando? I think that's a new record." Xabi tsks at him.
"It wasn't even a real date. It was just pizza and beer and sex."
"You are ridiculous."
*
Fernando's just finishing his shift when his phone rings.
The display says "Other Fernando." Fernando considers it for a second before answering.
"Yeah?"
"So have we come to a decision yet?"
"About what?" Fernando asks, innocently.
"The whole friends or more thing. Anyway, from the way Xabi was looking at me today, I don't think anyone's going to buy that we're just friends. I'm just saying."
"The walls are thin," he replies, dryly.
Fernando laughs.
"How did you meet Xabi anyway? He doesn't say much about it. Just that you've been friends for a couple years."
"He was good to me in a time when I didn't have anything else." Fernando can't remember ever saying that aloud to anyone else.
"So, should I come over tonight?"
"Yeah, there's this documentary about man-eating spiders I've been meaning to watch."
"Sounds lovely. See you in a couple hours."
*
It becomes an easy routine after that. Fernando lets himself become comfortable with it, lets himself fake it real. Fernando shows up outside his building after work most days. They have sex, or just order food and watch documentaries or old movies, or hang out at Xabi's when he's around. Fernando admits he doesn't like bars that much either, so they only go out when Xabi's adamant that he can't bear to see them inside either of their apartments anymore.
He calls up whoever's available that particular night, and so Fernando meets the rest of Xabi's strays, and gets along spectacularly with all them, unsurprisingly.
Even Sergio. Fernando glares murderously at him every time he gets too close, not because he thinks anything's going to happen but because his reactions are kind of hilarious.
The night he's more tipsy than usual and pulls Fernando down for a long kiss in front of everyone is one of the best nights in his recent memory. It's one of the only nights he's been here that he's felt sort of at home.
He doesn't tell him to stay that night.
*
Fernando finds him on the fire escape around dusk, a cigarette between his lips. He sits next to him, his side flush against Fernando. He wonders when his body, his warmth, became such a comfort.
"You look like you don't want to be anywhere you are."
"I don't."
"What are you doing here then?"
"When I first came, I told myself I was saving up for college. Then, that started to look bleak, so I said I was saving up for a better place. Then it was a TV that actually worked... Defining things is hard sometimes, but you have to do it."
"What about your parents?"
"My dad threw me out when he found out I was gay."
"Oh. I'm sorry." And he doesn't sound surprised like he assumed he would. It's a world-wearied sort of sadness instead. It makes him think that Fernando is not as bright and untarnished as he's always thought.
"No, it's not - It's just a fact. It's just an insignificant puzzle piece. It's not who I am. And I don't want pity or anything."
There's a pause in which he just exhales smoke into the grey, into that place between day and night, into the boundary between sky and concrete.
"Sometimes, I feel I could float away and no one would notice. Then I remember there's nowhere else to go."
*
Fernando's been putting this off for the last two months, but it had to happen eventually.
Xabi corners him one night after Fernando leaves.
"So..."
"Ugh. Don't," he warns, but there's no real heat behind it.
"I just wanted to say that you look happier these days."
"Really?"
"Well, anything's an improvement from... Never mind. I just. I think he's good for you. And you're good for him, for some bizarre reason."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Fernando says, rolling his eyes.
Xabi smiles, but then he gets ominously serious.
"Just...don't mess it up."
What happens next is really kind of ironic. Irony he'd appreciate if it didn't suck so much.
*
It's Friday morning when he knocks on his door.
Fernando smiles too brightly when he sees him, against his will.
"Hey, I was just leaving. You want coffee or -"
He stops when he sees his face.
"What's wrong?"
"Something sort of, uh, happened." And if he wasn't concerned before, the way Fernando's deliberately avoiding his eyes is a giant warning sign.
"What happened?" His eyes narrow, scanning his face, and he'd reach out and touch him, as reassurance, but that feels too, too - something. Too intimate, too real.
"I slept with someone." His eyes look dead when he finally turns them upwards to meet Fernando's, just for a second. He doesn't look apologetic or pleading or anything, just kind of small and scared.
"Okay..." he says, blinking kind of rapidly, but mostly succeeding in concealing the barrage of confusing emotions he's feeling.
"It was this guy that I knew in college. He's in town for a few days. We just had a couple drinks and started talking about the good old days and it just...happened."
"Yeah," he says. And then says, "Yeah," again, as if to reassure himself instead. "It's not like -" It's not like what? It's not like this was ever going to permanent, it's not like these things ever last...
Usually, his relationships come with a self-imposed expiry date. He never thought about this one like that though. He should have seen it coming though.
"I'm - I'm sorry." He stops, like he'd decided not to say that beforehand. "I'm not making excuses. I just. I like you a lot. So I thought you should know. And it won't happen again. Because I don't want it to, even if we never promised each other anything."
"Yeah. Right." Fernando starts walking to the door.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine. I just - I have to go to work. So I'll see you."
*
Fernando's goes through the rest of the day like a zombie.
When he gets home, he doesn't get out of bed until Saturday afternoon.
*
Xabi finds him sprawled on the couch, a half-empty bottle of colourless liquid at his lips. He sighs before opening the window and the door to the balcony to get rid of the smell of alcohol and smoke in the apartment.
Fernando starts talking in slurs to the ceiling.
"Ever feel like you're starting to forget something you see every day? Like your face. Or your name." He spits out the last part bitterly.
"You're drunk," Xabi says, evenly. "You only spout seemingly profound nonsense when you're drunk."
Xabi takes the bottle away, pulls him up and off the couch and leads him to his bed.
"Sober up," he says. "Then go talk to him."
*
Fernando's only been to his place a few times. He stands outside his door, feeling like a stranger for a moment. He's always let people into his life a little at a time. It's easier that way, less messy. Easier to let them go. He doesn't ever want to feel like he's being let into someone else's life instead. Fernando makes him want something else though, every now and then.
"You look awful," he says, when he opens the door.
Fernando nods. "Yeah."
He kind of grimaces at him before gesturing him inside.
He doesn't lead him to the couch, leans against the kitchen counter instead. And Fernando takes a deep breath before standing next to him, this time.
He looks like he's waiting, eyes trained down to the floor.
Fernando starts talking, in a way he's never done before.
"Usually, I'd be relieved when something like this happens. Because it's a good excuse to cut and run. Again. I don't really want to though. And I don't understand why."
"What do you want then?"
"I want to know more about you. I want to stop calling you the other Fernando, because you're so much more than that. I want to kiss you in bars and fall asleep with the TV on and I want it to be normal. And enough."
"Are you asking me to go steady?" he says, cracking a smile.
Fernando has to look up at him then, smiling too.
"Yes."
"Okay."
Fernando takes his hand then, threads their fingers together, and he didn't know how much he wanted them to fit until he realised that they did.
*
It's a week later when Xabi interrupts them making-out on the couch to tell them that they're going out for Fernando's birthday the next evening if he has to physically tie them up and drag them outside himself.
*
Fernando shows up at his apartment after work with an unwrapped book about Komodo dragons and a cupcake with a lit candle stuck in the centre.
He thanks him as Fernando lets him lick icing off his finger and then leans down to lick some out of his mouth himself.
*
Everyone's sufficiently buzzed when Cesc starts ranting about the economy and politics and whatever else he deems appropriate post-midnight drunken conversation, with Xabi making insightful comments, and Iker interjecting with well-placed curses.
Sergio shakes his head, as if to say, See what I have to put up with?
"These guys are no fun," he says, then takes another shot.
His face brightens up then as he surveys both Fernandos. "Come on. This is not how you celebrate a birthday."
Sergio pulls them both onto the dance floor and then disappears into the crowd, leaving them alone. Fernando smiles at him, pulls him closer, and wraps his arms loosely around his waist. The music is fast, but they move almost in slow-motion, touching without touching. There are lights flashing off his skin, sweat dripping down his neck, and Fernando wonders how the skin below his ear would taste if he just reached up and pressed his lips to it, surrounded by bodies and the steady pulse of music like a cocoon around them, closing them off to the world.
After a while, Fernando reaches up to link his hands together at the nape of his neck, rests his head gently against his chest, feels his heartbeat there, the loudest thing in the room suddenly.
He doesn't let go for a long while.
*
They're walking down the pavement after, holding onto each other, giggling and trying not to lose their balance and fall into a ditch or something worse. Fernando stops, abruptly, lets go of his arm, and grabs onto a lamp post instead. He spins around it a few times, feeling the night air cold on his face, staring up at the sky. He sits down on the pavement after, dizzy, watching the world spin around him. Fernando sits next to him, puts a hand on his shoulder.
"How far do you think we could get by morning if we leave here now?" he breathes out.
He feels Fernando's grip tense slightly.
"Are you really that unhappy?"
"No," he says, softly. It feels like a confession, something he's kept inside for a long time. It feels like a weakness.
He looks across and up at him, feeling small and childlike again. Fernando smiles, blue eyes almost twinkling as they reflect the light from above.
He touches surprisingly warm fingers to the freckles on his cheeks, raises his face up to kiss him, first on the forehead and then, chaste and familiar, on the mouth.
He stands up and then reaches a hand out for Fernando to take.
Fernando reaches back, no longer feeling unbalanced.
"Let's go home."