somewhere near the end of time | part one
title: somewhere near the end of time; part one
pairing: steven gerrard/xabi alonso
rating: pg-13
disclaimer: not true (apart from the things that are)
summary: xabi wishes he was enough to make one person want to stay. stevie and xabi over the course of liverpool fc’s 05-06 season
Xabi sits at a table back in San Sebastian with a plate of fresh rice in front of him - he chews mindlessly and to the tune of his mother washing dishes in the kitchen nearby. Nagore sits opposite him with an apple in one hand and a knife in the other.
“So I guess Steven is leaving the club after all,” she says without looking at him, beginning to carve a slice of fruit which she then slips into her mouth
Xabi stills, his fork halfway to his mouth, and furrows his brow. He makes a noise that sounds like he’s trying to clear his throat, “Why do you say that?”
Nagore looks at him curiously and shrugs, “It was on the radio just now. They said he handed in the transfer request.” She pauses in her apple-carving and twirls the knife before setting it down on the table. Xabi eyes her warily. “Do you think he’ll come to Spain?”
Xabi swallows thickly, “What and go to Madrid? I don’t… I don’t think Alex wants to move to a different country, no? Where did you hear this again?”
She raises an eyebrow pointedly before picking up the knife again. She puts a slice of apple on the side of Xabi’s plate and motions for him to finish the rest of his food. “The radio. I just told you! BBC International, if you don’t believe me. You can listen after you finish lunch. Personally, I think it’s strange that he would leave. He seemed so happy with everything in Turkey.”
“Well,” Xabi says before pausing to chew thoughtfully. He feels an instinctive need to defend Stevie and his decisions - no, that’s not it - he wants to rationalise the situation. Xabi would like to believe that most people have reasons for their actions. Even if he thinks what Stevie is doing is idiotic and foolish and stupid and wrong; surely there must be a reason. He struggles not to bite the inside of his cheek as he wonders whether he was the problem. Was he not good enough? Stevie wanted to play with better players; he wanted to play with players who could win things. But they had won things. He doesn’t realise how long he’s been silent for till he hears Nagore speak again
“You didn’t ask him to stay?” she questions but with a hint of indifference as she stands up to throw her apple core in the rubbish bin
Xabi laughs but it sounds hollow even to his own ears, “Like he would have listened to me”
Nagore’s forehead creases and she looks at Xabi the way she does whenever he gets self-deprecating - confused and exasperated, “Why wouldn’t he have? He likes you. He respects you. You should have given him your opinion at the very least or make it sound like you were giving him a piece of advice.”
Xabi shakes his head resolutely, “Maybe, you know, Carra or Didi or someone could have spoken to him but I’m still- I’m still new. I can’t go up to the captain of the club and say ‘I would like you to stay please.’” He picks up his plate and walks to the kitchen, “It just doesn’t work like that.”
“He likes you though”
Nagore says this almost plaintively but it causes Xabi’s plate to slip through his wet, soapy hands into the sink with a clatter. His mother rolls her eyes and smacks his hands away, shooing him out of the kitchen. He mumbles an apology and kisses her briefly on the cheek before turning to face Nagore. “What?” he asks her
“You know,” she makes an illustrative gesture with her hands that Xabi is unable to understand, “Alex says that he likes playing with you. And even on the pitch when I come to watch at Anfield, I can tell that the two of you - you play well together.”
Xabi feels something like frustration bubble up within him and he doesn’t know why he’s getting so angry because Nagore is just trying to have a normal conversation with him and they’re not one of those couples who have ‘personal spaces’ and ‘work spaces’ because they like sharing everything with each other. And Xabi does, he does, like talking about his job with Nagore and the ways it makes him happy and even when it makes him sad because she’s good at basking in the highs and cheering him up during the lows. But this is different - distinctly so - and Xabi doesn’t know why but it is and he needs for Nagore to let him be angry. Just for a little while. Let him be angry just for a little while that Stevie is leaving.
Players leave clubs all the time. He knows this. And it’s not so much that he will miss Stevie because you can’t miss something you never had to begin with - you can’t miss someone you barely know save for training sessions and the occasional locker room speech. But he had this almost irrational need to prove himself - to be the reason Stevie didn’t want to leave. It’s an exaggeration of his talents, of who he is as a person to think he’d be enough to make one man with a family and hopes and dreams want to stay. There’s a headache beginning at his temple and he rubs at his eyes wearily
“Xabi, are you ok?” Nagore asks and he looks up too see the worry etched on her face and the concern clear in her voice
He smiles at her and it’s sincere but tired, “Of course. I suppose it’s surprising news, that’s all.”
“Mhmm,” she agrees and reaches for him so that she can lay her head against his chest comfortably and he runs a hand up her back.
The next day Steven Gerrard announces that he’s staying with Liverpool Football Club.
**
Rafa calls him into his office and says “Sit,” while he scribbles hastily in a notebook. “How was Spain, your mother, your father, everything is good?” he asks without looking up.
Xabi’s hands curl around the seat of the chair; “Can’t complain.” He knows Rafa is not one for conversation unless it is an in-depth analysis of Xabi’s bad timing when it comes to tackling.
“We’ll talk with the rest of the team later,” Rafa says abruptly as he sets his pen down and looks at Xabi in that familiar grave, authoritative way, “but I want to ask you this now. I’m asking a few players, actually. You know that Steven almost left the club isn’t it?”
Xabi contemplates telling Rafa that you had to have been hiding under some geographically misplaced rock to not have known but decides against it. He nods instead, “Sure. But he’s staying now.”
“You do not have any hard feelings towards him or-?” Rafa asks carefully, following Xabi with a steady gaze
“What? No. No, it’s not my place.” Xabi says, running a nervous hand through his too long-hair. “Why are you asking me this? Why does it matter?”
“Steven is the captain of the club and he can only be captain so long as he is respected by the rest of his team. If there were players who no longer felt he should have the status then-”
“Who said this?” Xabi interrupts darkly, brow furrowing in displeasure
“No, no-one has said this but if you feel this way then I would like to know.” Rafa says pointedly
“Of course I don’t feel that way.” He snaps and at once winces at his harsh tone when he sees the taken aback look on Rafa’s face. “I’m sorry,” he says more calmly now, “I just think he made a mistake and I’ve seen the things on the news and the way the fans have been reacting and maybe that is punishment enough. Not that he needs to be punished.” He hastens to add while chastising his tongue and it’s inability to work to any productive effect. “It’s just- I can’t think of a better person here to lead us. I don’t want anyone else.” He finishes determinedly
Rafa nods and Xabi wonders if he can detect the hints of a rare smile on his manager’s face, “Ok. Thank you, Xabi. We’ll meet with the rest of the players in fifteen minutes. I need to speak to Gerrard first.”
Xabi bites down on his lower lip. He hasn’t seen Stevie since he left for Spain a few months back. His stomach convulses in a way that is not entirely unpleasant. It’s only when Rafa raises an eyebrow at him that he realises he’s lingering in the open doorway. Colour rising to his cheeks, he mumbles a quick “see you” and shuts the door behind him.
**
Later that day Xabi finds himself rounded up with the rest of the team in the conference room except he’s pretty sure there isn’t a conference about to take place. The large mahogany desk usually centred has been pushed back against the wall while the sound system and it’s tangle of microphone wires lie haphazard across the floor. The others are lounging on chairs and drinking from juice boxes and mineral water bottles after a light run on the field. He makes sure to greet everyone, smile warmly at old faces and give Pepe a welcoming hug while assuring him of tours to all historical Liverpool sights. Pepe laughs but it sounds nervous and forced. Xabi is about to ask if Pepe doesn’t share his fervour for the city’s culture when Stevie steps into the room.
He doesn’t look at the rest of them and instead stares resolutely at the ground, hands stuffed into his pockets. Xabi can’t see his face but he’s never known Stevie to be nervous - too excited, too passionate maybe, but not nervous. It makes Xabi feel decidedly uncomfortable and he shifts awkwardly on his seat.
Rafa walks in behind Stevie and clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Steven,” Rafa motions toward Stevie as though needing to provide an introduction, “has requested that he speak to all of you. Listen to him and I’ll be back in a few minutes to discuss the program for pre-season, ok?” He quickly surveys the rest of the room, nods and leaves behind a currently extremely awkward Liverpool captain.
The room is silent save for Didi who appears to be humming a show tune under his breath. Xabi watches as Stevie looks up, straight at him. His breath momentarily hitches in his throat. Has Stevie’s eyes always been this blue? He tries to smile reassuringly, tries to convey to Stevie that it doesn’t matter - what happened over the summer doesn’t matter. He’s here now and they’re still champions of Europe and that’s what counts. Stevie offers him a small smile in return but his forehead is still creased and he shifts uneasily from left to right foot.
Stevie clears his throat and his voice sounds gruff when he begins to speak, “Hi lads. Look, this won’t be long. I just wanted to tell you all that I’m sorry. I should, erm, apologise for the way I acted this summer. It wasn’t on. You all deserve better and like, I promise to be better. To be the kind of captain you lot deserve.”
“Oi, you aren’t gonna start crying now are you Stevie ‘la?” Carra yells from the back of the room. But when Xabi turns to look he’s grinning
Stevie smiles sheepishly and Xabi can’t help but note the faint spread of pink on either cheek.
Sami stands up and puts a firm hand on Stevie’s shoulder, “It’s ok,” he tells him and Xabi sees Stevie let out a relieved breath. Xabi feels a twinge in the pit of his stomach at the thoughts of the heavy weight on the other man’s shoulders and when the others go up to jokingly punch and pat Stevie on the back, assuring him that nothing has changed, Xabi lingers behind. The room filters out to Riise’s laughter and when Xabi is beside Stevie, there’s a relaxed smile on his face.
“I am glad you decided to stay,” Xabi tells him warmly, the anger and resentment he felt over the summer replaced by a new and completely different feeling
Stevie sighs but it doesn’t sound resigned or disappointed, “That means a lot coming from you.”
Xabi frowns as he puzzles over Stevie’s words but there’s a smile in the other man’s eyes and it looks like hope or The Beginning and they’re so frighteningly blue; so he allows Stevie to sling a comfortable arm around his shoulders and lead him out the door and into the next season.
**
They’re in Austria waiting to play their friendly against Leverkusen and there’s sunshine everywhere spread like a hot blanket over the grass. Stevie is lying on his back with his hands crossed behind his head and his eyes closed. Xabi sits with his knees propped up against his chest and watches him. He swats away a gnat that flies too close to Stevie’s face.
“Stop staring at me,” Stevie mumbles without opening his eyes
“Wha- what, I haven’t been- I’m not staring at you.” Xabi rushes to say, though he blatantly has been
Stevie chuckles warm and low; the sound hits Xabi in the gut like a missile and he struggles to mask the grin on his face in response. “It’s alright. I don’t mind the attention.”
“You’re a little full of yourself, no?” Xabi teases, “How would you even know I was staring at you? Your eyes have been closed the whole time.”
“I could feel you watching me,” Stevie says easily and Xabi’s glad his eyes are still closed because he blushes then even though he knows Stevie doesn’t mean it that way.
“Well, I wasn’t.” Xabi flicks a blade of grass at Stevie’s face. “The Austrian countryside is a much more pleasant view, thank you.”
“You liar!” Stevie accuses, opening his eyes now and raising himself up to rest on his elbows
“Despite this-” Xabi makes his point by sticking a few fingers into Stevie’s hair which has been spiked with gel, “and your devastating good looks, there are some of us that can manage to look away you know.”
“Oi, not me hair!” Stevie says, batting away Xabi’s hand and pouting
Xabi snickers, “If only Carra could see you now.”
“Better than the mushroom thing you’ve got going on, lad.” Stevie reaches forward to ruffle Xabi’s hair, “I think this is what Alex is planning for Lilly actually.”
Xabi would like very much to think of some witty retort but instead simply allows Stevie to playfully move the hair from his eyes, grinning as he does so. It’s been a long while since Stevie has been happy and relaxed like this. Ever since they’d arrived in Switzerland for their training camp he’d been on edge - polite to the point of being distant and spending an extra half hour training when everyone else had already gone back inside. Xabi would tell Stevie that he didn’t have to prove anything, not to anyone, if only he felt it were his place to do so.
When Xabi closes his eyes for a second, Stevie moves away. He opens them again to find the other man studying him with an unreadable expression on his face. “So you are saying I should change my hair?”
Half of Stevie’s mouth curves upwards in a soft smile and he shifts off the ground, beating at his pant-leg for grass stains. “We should probably go inside and start getting ready for the match.” He extends a hand to help Xabi up and the warmth of it makes Xabi’s throat dry. The sun is still high up, the stadium is awash with it’s light and it’s strange because inside Xabi there’s this light too and it’s there whenever Stevie looks at him, when he brushes past him, when he hears his rare laughter. It’s somewhere snug beneath his breastbone and Xabi prays desperately for it to go away.
tbc.
pairing: steven gerrard/xabi alonso
rating: pg-13
disclaimer: not true (apart from the things that are)
summary: xabi wishes he was enough to make one person want to stay. stevie and xabi over the course of liverpool fc’s 05-06 season
Xabi sits at a table back in San Sebastian with a plate of fresh rice in front of him - he chews mindlessly and to the tune of his mother washing dishes in the kitchen nearby. Nagore sits opposite him with an apple in one hand and a knife in the other.
“So I guess Steven is leaving the club after all,” she says without looking at him, beginning to carve a slice of fruit which she then slips into her mouth
Xabi stills, his fork halfway to his mouth, and furrows his brow. He makes a noise that sounds like he’s trying to clear his throat, “Why do you say that?”
Nagore looks at him curiously and shrugs, “It was on the radio just now. They said he handed in the transfer request.” She pauses in her apple-carving and twirls the knife before setting it down on the table. Xabi eyes her warily. “Do you think he’ll come to Spain?”
Xabi swallows thickly, “What and go to Madrid? I don’t… I don’t think Alex wants to move to a different country, no? Where did you hear this again?”
She raises an eyebrow pointedly before picking up the knife again. She puts a slice of apple on the side of Xabi’s plate and motions for him to finish the rest of his food. “The radio. I just told you! BBC International, if you don’t believe me. You can listen after you finish lunch. Personally, I think it’s strange that he would leave. He seemed so happy with everything in Turkey.”
“Well,” Xabi says before pausing to chew thoughtfully. He feels an instinctive need to defend Stevie and his decisions - no, that’s not it - he wants to rationalise the situation. Xabi would like to believe that most people have reasons for their actions. Even if he thinks what Stevie is doing is idiotic and foolish and stupid and wrong; surely there must be a reason. He struggles not to bite the inside of his cheek as he wonders whether he was the problem. Was he not good enough? Stevie wanted to play with better players; he wanted to play with players who could win things. But they had won things. He doesn’t realise how long he’s been silent for till he hears Nagore speak again
“You didn’t ask him to stay?” she questions but with a hint of indifference as she stands up to throw her apple core in the rubbish bin
Xabi laughs but it sounds hollow even to his own ears, “Like he would have listened to me”
Nagore’s forehead creases and she looks at Xabi the way she does whenever he gets self-deprecating - confused and exasperated, “Why wouldn’t he have? He likes you. He respects you. You should have given him your opinion at the very least or make it sound like you were giving him a piece of advice.”
Xabi shakes his head resolutely, “Maybe, you know, Carra or Didi or someone could have spoken to him but I’m still- I’m still new. I can’t go up to the captain of the club and say ‘I would like you to stay please.’” He picks up his plate and walks to the kitchen, “It just doesn’t work like that.”
“He likes you though”
Nagore says this almost plaintively but it causes Xabi’s plate to slip through his wet, soapy hands into the sink with a clatter. His mother rolls her eyes and smacks his hands away, shooing him out of the kitchen. He mumbles an apology and kisses her briefly on the cheek before turning to face Nagore. “What?” he asks her
“You know,” she makes an illustrative gesture with her hands that Xabi is unable to understand, “Alex says that he likes playing with you. And even on the pitch when I come to watch at Anfield, I can tell that the two of you - you play well together.”
Xabi feels something like frustration bubble up within him and he doesn’t know why he’s getting so angry because Nagore is just trying to have a normal conversation with him and they’re not one of those couples who have ‘personal spaces’ and ‘work spaces’ because they like sharing everything with each other. And Xabi does, he does, like talking about his job with Nagore and the ways it makes him happy and even when it makes him sad because she’s good at basking in the highs and cheering him up during the lows. But this is different - distinctly so - and Xabi doesn’t know why but it is and he needs for Nagore to let him be angry. Just for a little while. Let him be angry just for a little while that Stevie is leaving.
Players leave clubs all the time. He knows this. And it’s not so much that he will miss Stevie because you can’t miss something you never had to begin with - you can’t miss someone you barely know save for training sessions and the occasional locker room speech. But he had this almost irrational need to prove himself - to be the reason Stevie didn’t want to leave. It’s an exaggeration of his talents, of who he is as a person to think he’d be enough to make one man with a family and hopes and dreams want to stay. There’s a headache beginning at his temple and he rubs at his eyes wearily
“Xabi, are you ok?” Nagore asks and he looks up too see the worry etched on her face and the concern clear in her voice
He smiles at her and it’s sincere but tired, “Of course. I suppose it’s surprising news, that’s all.”
“Mhmm,” she agrees and reaches for him so that she can lay her head against his chest comfortably and he runs a hand up her back.
The next day Steven Gerrard announces that he’s staying with Liverpool Football Club.
**
Rafa calls him into his office and says “Sit,” while he scribbles hastily in a notebook. “How was Spain, your mother, your father, everything is good?” he asks without looking up.
Xabi’s hands curl around the seat of the chair; “Can’t complain.” He knows Rafa is not one for conversation unless it is an in-depth analysis of Xabi’s bad timing when it comes to tackling.
“We’ll talk with the rest of the team later,” Rafa says abruptly as he sets his pen down and looks at Xabi in that familiar grave, authoritative way, “but I want to ask you this now. I’m asking a few players, actually. You know that Steven almost left the club isn’t it?”
Xabi contemplates telling Rafa that you had to have been hiding under some geographically misplaced rock to not have known but decides against it. He nods instead, “Sure. But he’s staying now.”
“You do not have any hard feelings towards him or-?” Rafa asks carefully, following Xabi with a steady gaze
“What? No. No, it’s not my place.” Xabi says, running a nervous hand through his too long-hair. “Why are you asking me this? Why does it matter?”
“Steven is the captain of the club and he can only be captain so long as he is respected by the rest of his team. If there were players who no longer felt he should have the status then-”
“Who said this?” Xabi interrupts darkly, brow furrowing in displeasure
“No, no-one has said this but if you feel this way then I would like to know.” Rafa says pointedly
“Of course I don’t feel that way.” He snaps and at once winces at his harsh tone when he sees the taken aback look on Rafa’s face. “I’m sorry,” he says more calmly now, “I just think he made a mistake and I’ve seen the things on the news and the way the fans have been reacting and maybe that is punishment enough. Not that he needs to be punished.” He hastens to add while chastising his tongue and it’s inability to work to any productive effect. “It’s just- I can’t think of a better person here to lead us. I don’t want anyone else.” He finishes determinedly
Rafa nods and Xabi wonders if he can detect the hints of a rare smile on his manager’s face, “Ok. Thank you, Xabi. We’ll meet with the rest of the players in fifteen minutes. I need to speak to Gerrard first.”
Xabi bites down on his lower lip. He hasn’t seen Stevie since he left for Spain a few months back. His stomach convulses in a way that is not entirely unpleasant. It’s only when Rafa raises an eyebrow at him that he realises he’s lingering in the open doorway. Colour rising to his cheeks, he mumbles a quick “see you” and shuts the door behind him.
**
Later that day Xabi finds himself rounded up with the rest of the team in the conference room except he’s pretty sure there isn’t a conference about to take place. The large mahogany desk usually centred has been pushed back against the wall while the sound system and it’s tangle of microphone wires lie haphazard across the floor. The others are lounging on chairs and drinking from juice boxes and mineral water bottles after a light run on the field. He makes sure to greet everyone, smile warmly at old faces and give Pepe a welcoming hug while assuring him of tours to all historical Liverpool sights. Pepe laughs but it sounds nervous and forced. Xabi is about to ask if Pepe doesn’t share his fervour for the city’s culture when Stevie steps into the room.
He doesn’t look at the rest of them and instead stares resolutely at the ground, hands stuffed into his pockets. Xabi can’t see his face but he’s never known Stevie to be nervous - too excited, too passionate maybe, but not nervous. It makes Xabi feel decidedly uncomfortable and he shifts awkwardly on his seat.
Rafa walks in behind Stevie and clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Steven,” Rafa motions toward Stevie as though needing to provide an introduction, “has requested that he speak to all of you. Listen to him and I’ll be back in a few minutes to discuss the program for pre-season, ok?” He quickly surveys the rest of the room, nods and leaves behind a currently extremely awkward Liverpool captain.
The room is silent save for Didi who appears to be humming a show tune under his breath. Xabi watches as Stevie looks up, straight at him. His breath momentarily hitches in his throat. Has Stevie’s eyes always been this blue? He tries to smile reassuringly, tries to convey to Stevie that it doesn’t matter - what happened over the summer doesn’t matter. He’s here now and they’re still champions of Europe and that’s what counts. Stevie offers him a small smile in return but his forehead is still creased and he shifts uneasily from left to right foot.
Stevie clears his throat and his voice sounds gruff when he begins to speak, “Hi lads. Look, this won’t be long. I just wanted to tell you all that I’m sorry. I should, erm, apologise for the way I acted this summer. It wasn’t on. You all deserve better and like, I promise to be better. To be the kind of captain you lot deserve.”
“Oi, you aren’t gonna start crying now are you Stevie ‘la?” Carra yells from the back of the room. But when Xabi turns to look he’s grinning
Stevie smiles sheepishly and Xabi can’t help but note the faint spread of pink on either cheek.
Sami stands up and puts a firm hand on Stevie’s shoulder, “It’s ok,” he tells him and Xabi sees Stevie let out a relieved breath. Xabi feels a twinge in the pit of his stomach at the thoughts of the heavy weight on the other man’s shoulders and when the others go up to jokingly punch and pat Stevie on the back, assuring him that nothing has changed, Xabi lingers behind. The room filters out to Riise’s laughter and when Xabi is beside Stevie, there’s a relaxed smile on his face.
“I am glad you decided to stay,” Xabi tells him warmly, the anger and resentment he felt over the summer replaced by a new and completely different feeling
Stevie sighs but it doesn’t sound resigned or disappointed, “That means a lot coming from you.”
Xabi frowns as he puzzles over Stevie’s words but there’s a smile in the other man’s eyes and it looks like hope or The Beginning and they’re so frighteningly blue; so he allows Stevie to sling a comfortable arm around his shoulders and lead him out the door and into the next season.
**
They’re in Austria waiting to play their friendly against Leverkusen and there’s sunshine everywhere spread like a hot blanket over the grass. Stevie is lying on his back with his hands crossed behind his head and his eyes closed. Xabi sits with his knees propped up against his chest and watches him. He swats away a gnat that flies too close to Stevie’s face.
“Stop staring at me,” Stevie mumbles without opening his eyes
“Wha- what, I haven’t been- I’m not staring at you.” Xabi rushes to say, though he blatantly has been
Stevie chuckles warm and low; the sound hits Xabi in the gut like a missile and he struggles to mask the grin on his face in response. “It’s alright. I don’t mind the attention.”
“You’re a little full of yourself, no?” Xabi teases, “How would you even know I was staring at you? Your eyes have been closed the whole time.”
“I could feel you watching me,” Stevie says easily and Xabi’s glad his eyes are still closed because he blushes then even though he knows Stevie doesn’t mean it that way.
“Well, I wasn’t.” Xabi flicks a blade of grass at Stevie’s face. “The Austrian countryside is a much more pleasant view, thank you.”
“You liar!” Stevie accuses, opening his eyes now and raising himself up to rest on his elbows
“Despite this-” Xabi makes his point by sticking a few fingers into Stevie’s hair which has been spiked with gel, “and your devastating good looks, there are some of us that can manage to look away you know.”
“Oi, not me hair!” Stevie says, batting away Xabi’s hand and pouting
Xabi snickers, “If only Carra could see you now.”
“Better than the mushroom thing you’ve got going on, lad.” Stevie reaches forward to ruffle Xabi’s hair, “I think this is what Alex is planning for Lilly actually.”
Xabi would like very much to think of some witty retort but instead simply allows Stevie to playfully move the hair from his eyes, grinning as he does so. It’s been a long while since Stevie has been happy and relaxed like this. Ever since they’d arrived in Switzerland for their training camp he’d been on edge - polite to the point of being distant and spending an extra half hour training when everyone else had already gone back inside. Xabi would tell Stevie that he didn’t have to prove anything, not to anyone, if only he felt it were his place to do so.
When Xabi closes his eyes for a second, Stevie moves away. He opens them again to find the other man studying him with an unreadable expression on his face. “So you are saying I should change my hair?”
Half of Stevie’s mouth curves upwards in a soft smile and he shifts off the ground, beating at his pant-leg for grass stains. “We should probably go inside and start getting ready for the match.” He extends a hand to help Xabi up and the warmth of it makes Xabi’s throat dry. The sun is still high up, the stadium is awash with it’s light and it’s strange because inside Xabi there’s this light too and it’s there whenever Stevie looks at him, when he brushes past him, when he hears his rare laughter. It’s somewhere snug beneath his breastbone and Xabi prays desperately for it to go away.
tbc.