(no subject)
TITLE: Hide Behind Your Eyes - Chapter Eleven
RATING: R
SUMMARY: It hurts all the time when you don’t answer my calls and don’t have the time to remember how it was.
FANDOM: Spanish Football (Ramos/Torres)
STATUS: In Progress (11/12)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest darkest corner of my imagination.
*~*Part Eleven*~*
Authors Note: I wrote and re-wrote this chapter so many times! I swear there are about eight different versions that I wrote and discarded before finally writing something that I was happy with. So thank you all for your patience - hope you enjoy.
*~*
If hell was a physical location, then Fernando knew exactly where it was - it was right here, on the bench at the World Cup semi finals. Being benched was bad, but being benched because of his lacklustre performance was even worse.
It’s over.
If Fernando had known how much those words would hurt then he would have prepared for them better. He had always known that Sergio held a certain amount of power over his soul, but he hadn’t known that he could shatter it completely. But then... if he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he never would have expected Sergio to voice those two heart breaking words. Because Sergio was always so consistent, he was the one person that Fernando could always count on, the one person he could trust. The sudden removal of that person from his life had thrown Fernando in more ways than he could count.
After that, everything just fell apart. Gods, he couldn’t even pull himself together long enough to perform at his best for the World Cup. The freaking World Cup! Fernando scowled to himself and scanned his eyes across the field until he caught sight of Sergio on the opposite side of the pitch. He was having no separation problems of course; he was playing the best damn football of his career. He was playing like a huge weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, which, Fernando reflected, it probably had.
Closing his eyes, Fernando let out a weary breath. Gods... what a mess...
*
The restaurant was filled with animated chatter and overjoyed laughter. Sergio couldn’t help the contagious smile that spread across his face as he surveyed the chaos. They had done it, they had actually done it - they had made it to the World Cup final!
Racing across the room, Sergio threw himself into the closest group with a victorious shout and the whole group went tripping and stumbling onto the restaurants plush carpet in a bizarre tangle of arms, legs and surprised shouts.
“Sergio, you idiot,” David groaned, “I think you just broke my tailbone.”
“Pique, get off my legs! God, you weight a ton.”
“Gentleman!”
Sergio detangled himself from Iker and poked his head up from under Navas’s arm to see Del Bosque standing at the head of the room commanding their attention. He looked over them all amused, “make sure you enjoy your night, its back to training first thing Monday morning. We have a World Cup to win!”
The cheers and hollers were almost deafening. Sergio laughed, feeling so bright and light-hearted that he was sure his body was about to start levitating. He deftly avoided Iker’s playful slap and jumped to his feet before reaching out a hand and helping the keeper up.
“I didn’t crush your hands did I?” Sergio joked.
Iker struggled to his feet wincing, “no, just everything else.”
The remained standing for precisely two seconds until David launched himself at Iker, Iker stumbled into Sergio and they all went tumbling to the floor for a second time.
“I’m just staying down,” Iker relented as David jumped off them with a laugh and hurried away.
Sergio pushed himself into a seated position and crossed his legs underneath him like he was a little kid back in kindergarten. “Did you ever think we’d be here? Getting ready to play the final?”
“I hoped.” Iker smiled as he mirrored Sergio’s position. “But this is beyond anything I ever imagined.”
“Yeah,” Sergio grinned. “It’s amazing. It feels like... hell, I don’t even know. It feels like 24 years of hard work just reaching its fruition.”
“Not just 24,” Iker corrected, “this is a lifetime of work. This is every single Spaniard’s hopes and dreams combined into one perfect moment.”
“That is, of course, if we win.”
“We will,” Iker nodded confidently. He didn’t hold an ounce of arrogance in his tone; he spoke like there was no other outcome, except to win. He pulled his knees loosely to his chest, “so are you okay? I haven’t really had the chance to speak to you. I presume that something went down with Fernando considering you’re both avoiding each other. Right back at square one, then?”
Sergio shook his head, “no, I don’t think so. I think we’ve progressed.” He paused, “or maybe I just hope we have. I don’t know... I’m trying not to think about it.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I said what I should have said a long time ago. I told him that it’s over between us.”
“How did he take it?”
“He’s Fernando,” Sergio shrugged, “he took it with every ounce of class and elegance that he possesses.”
Iker shook his head. “He can hide behind that strong facade all he likes, but he’s hurt, it shows in his game.”
“Yeah,” Sergio mumbled, “I know.”
Iker pushed himself to his feet and reached out a hand, helping Sergio up. “Hey, listen; don’t worry about it, okay? He’s Fernando, he’ll pull through; he always does. Let’s just focus on the final, alright?”
Sergio nodded. The final. The beautiful final. He could almost see the whole team on the podium hoisting that golden trophy high with the pride of the nation around them. And here they were so close to achieving that goal. Everything could have been perfect... but it wasn’t.
*
He was looking again; Fernando could feel his gaze on the back of his neck like a light caress of warm fingertips that sent shivers down his spine. Shuddering and suddenly wishing he had on an extra layer of clothing, Fernando took off at a run up field to try and shake the sensation but it followed him wherever he went.
It was their final training session. It was cold and overcast and Fernando was frustrated. Playing badly was one thing, but playing badly under the worried eyes of Sergio was even worse. Especially when it was clear that Sergio wasn’t about to come over and see what the problem was, instead he was just watching from afar making Fernando feel more uncomfortable than ever. Gritting his teeth, Fernando pressed on, picking up his pace and sprinting to the end of the pitch before turning and jogging back.
The whistle blew and Fernando slowed to a walk, resting his hands on his hips and letting his breathing slow as he walked over to where Del Bosque stood waiting for him.
“Fernando, I’ve decided that you won’t be starting tomorrow.”
Not exactly surprising, but the sudden words still felt like they were knocking the wind out of him. For the second time in a week he felt like he was about to hyperventilate. Taking a deep breath Fernando nodded wordlessly.
“Okay.” Del Bosque clapped him on the shoulder, “get back to work.”
Easier said than done. Fernando felt like he was rooted to the spot, watching helplessly as his entire world crashed down around him. Tilting his head back, Fernando ran a hand over his face and swore under his breath.
What a mess.
*
Sergio lived for the football pitch; he loved the atmosphere of the crowd, the blinding lights, the familiar comforting scent of the grass and dirt and the roar of eighty thousand people pouring every inch of their emotion onto the field.
Stepping out onto the field was always special, but stepping out onto the field for the final of the World Cup was in a league all of its own. Especially when the most important person in the world was stepping out behind you... except that the most important person wasn’t there. And even if he was, he wasn’t allowed to be that special person anymore. It was strange. It felt wrong to be walking out without Fernando behind him.
Glancing behind himself, Sergio sought out Fernando on the bench. He was standing and looking cheerful enough despite his starting place being taken away from him. His hair was sticking up in wild wet spikes and each time Sergio looked over, his hair was in a slightly different form and shape. Just before the kick off, Fernando caught his eye and mouthed, “Good luck.”
*
The final whistle was like an explosion going off. Fernando only had a second to ponder the magnitude of what that whistle actually meant before he had his arms around three different team mates and they were laughing and jumping and crying and yelling in a muddle of excited confusion. David was yelling, Iker was inconsolable, and without a second though, Fernando was searching the field for Sergio.
Their eyes met and suddenly, it was like nothing had ever happened. It was as though they were both kids again without a care in the world except for their passion for the beautiful game and the shared joy that it brought them. Sergio grinned and ran the distance towards Fernando. They collided hard, each wrapping their arms tight around the other as they stumbled a few paces to regain balance from the impact.
“Just for tonight,” Fernando whispered as he clutched Sergio close, “let’s just forget about everything except for that golden trophy. Once the celebrations are over, we can say our goodbyes. But don’t make me do this without you. This is the biggest moment of my career and the biggest moment of your career. We worked towards this together so I want us to celebrate it together. Can you do that?”
There was a pause, a pause so thick with silence that it was almost as though time had stopped. But then...
“Yes.”
RATING: R
SUMMARY: It hurts all the time when you don’t answer my calls and don’t have the time to remember how it was.
FANDOM: Spanish Football (Ramos/Torres)
STATUS: In Progress (11/12)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest darkest corner of my imagination.
*~*Part Eleven*~*
Authors Note: I wrote and re-wrote this chapter so many times! I swear there are about eight different versions that I wrote and discarded before finally writing something that I was happy with. So thank you all for your patience - hope you enjoy.
*~*
If hell was a physical location, then Fernando knew exactly where it was - it was right here, on the bench at the World Cup semi finals. Being benched was bad, but being benched because of his lacklustre performance was even worse.
It’s over.
If Fernando had known how much those words would hurt then he would have prepared for them better. He had always known that Sergio held a certain amount of power over his soul, but he hadn’t known that he could shatter it completely. But then... if he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he never would have expected Sergio to voice those two heart breaking words. Because Sergio was always so consistent, he was the one person that Fernando could always count on, the one person he could trust. The sudden removal of that person from his life had thrown Fernando in more ways than he could count.
After that, everything just fell apart. Gods, he couldn’t even pull himself together long enough to perform at his best for the World Cup. The freaking World Cup! Fernando scowled to himself and scanned his eyes across the field until he caught sight of Sergio on the opposite side of the pitch. He was having no separation problems of course; he was playing the best damn football of his career. He was playing like a huge weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, which, Fernando reflected, it probably had.
Closing his eyes, Fernando let out a weary breath. Gods... what a mess...
*
The restaurant was filled with animated chatter and overjoyed laughter. Sergio couldn’t help the contagious smile that spread across his face as he surveyed the chaos. They had done it, they had actually done it - they had made it to the World Cup final!
Racing across the room, Sergio threw himself into the closest group with a victorious shout and the whole group went tripping and stumbling onto the restaurants plush carpet in a bizarre tangle of arms, legs and surprised shouts.
“Sergio, you idiot,” David groaned, “I think you just broke my tailbone.”
“Pique, get off my legs! God, you weight a ton.”
“Gentleman!”
Sergio detangled himself from Iker and poked his head up from under Navas’s arm to see Del Bosque standing at the head of the room commanding their attention. He looked over them all amused, “make sure you enjoy your night, its back to training first thing Monday morning. We have a World Cup to win!”
The cheers and hollers were almost deafening. Sergio laughed, feeling so bright and light-hearted that he was sure his body was about to start levitating. He deftly avoided Iker’s playful slap and jumped to his feet before reaching out a hand and helping the keeper up.
“I didn’t crush your hands did I?” Sergio joked.
Iker struggled to his feet wincing, “no, just everything else.”
The remained standing for precisely two seconds until David launched himself at Iker, Iker stumbled into Sergio and they all went tumbling to the floor for a second time.
“I’m just staying down,” Iker relented as David jumped off them with a laugh and hurried away.
Sergio pushed himself into a seated position and crossed his legs underneath him like he was a little kid back in kindergarten. “Did you ever think we’d be here? Getting ready to play the final?”
“I hoped.” Iker smiled as he mirrored Sergio’s position. “But this is beyond anything I ever imagined.”
“Yeah,” Sergio grinned. “It’s amazing. It feels like... hell, I don’t even know. It feels like 24 years of hard work just reaching its fruition.”
“Not just 24,” Iker corrected, “this is a lifetime of work. This is every single Spaniard’s hopes and dreams combined into one perfect moment.”
“That is, of course, if we win.”
“We will,” Iker nodded confidently. He didn’t hold an ounce of arrogance in his tone; he spoke like there was no other outcome, except to win. He pulled his knees loosely to his chest, “so are you okay? I haven’t really had the chance to speak to you. I presume that something went down with Fernando considering you’re both avoiding each other. Right back at square one, then?”
Sergio shook his head, “no, I don’t think so. I think we’ve progressed.” He paused, “or maybe I just hope we have. I don’t know... I’m trying not to think about it.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I said what I should have said a long time ago. I told him that it’s over between us.”
“How did he take it?”
“He’s Fernando,” Sergio shrugged, “he took it with every ounce of class and elegance that he possesses.”
Iker shook his head. “He can hide behind that strong facade all he likes, but he’s hurt, it shows in his game.”
“Yeah,” Sergio mumbled, “I know.”
Iker pushed himself to his feet and reached out a hand, helping Sergio up. “Hey, listen; don’t worry about it, okay? He’s Fernando, he’ll pull through; he always does. Let’s just focus on the final, alright?”
Sergio nodded. The final. The beautiful final. He could almost see the whole team on the podium hoisting that golden trophy high with the pride of the nation around them. And here they were so close to achieving that goal. Everything could have been perfect... but it wasn’t.
*
He was looking again; Fernando could feel his gaze on the back of his neck like a light caress of warm fingertips that sent shivers down his spine. Shuddering and suddenly wishing he had on an extra layer of clothing, Fernando took off at a run up field to try and shake the sensation but it followed him wherever he went.
It was their final training session. It was cold and overcast and Fernando was frustrated. Playing badly was one thing, but playing badly under the worried eyes of Sergio was even worse. Especially when it was clear that Sergio wasn’t about to come over and see what the problem was, instead he was just watching from afar making Fernando feel more uncomfortable than ever. Gritting his teeth, Fernando pressed on, picking up his pace and sprinting to the end of the pitch before turning and jogging back.
The whistle blew and Fernando slowed to a walk, resting his hands on his hips and letting his breathing slow as he walked over to where Del Bosque stood waiting for him.
“Fernando, I’ve decided that you won’t be starting tomorrow.”
Not exactly surprising, but the sudden words still felt like they were knocking the wind out of him. For the second time in a week he felt like he was about to hyperventilate. Taking a deep breath Fernando nodded wordlessly.
“Okay.” Del Bosque clapped him on the shoulder, “get back to work.”
Easier said than done. Fernando felt like he was rooted to the spot, watching helplessly as his entire world crashed down around him. Tilting his head back, Fernando ran a hand over his face and swore under his breath.
What a mess.
*
Sergio lived for the football pitch; he loved the atmosphere of the crowd, the blinding lights, the familiar comforting scent of the grass and dirt and the roar of eighty thousand people pouring every inch of their emotion onto the field.
Stepping out onto the field was always special, but stepping out onto the field for the final of the World Cup was in a league all of its own. Especially when the most important person in the world was stepping out behind you... except that the most important person wasn’t there. And even if he was, he wasn’t allowed to be that special person anymore. It was strange. It felt wrong to be walking out without Fernando behind him.
Glancing behind himself, Sergio sought out Fernando on the bench. He was standing and looking cheerful enough despite his starting place being taken away from him. His hair was sticking up in wild wet spikes and each time Sergio looked over, his hair was in a slightly different form and shape. Just before the kick off, Fernando caught his eye and mouthed, “Good luck.”
*
The final whistle was like an explosion going off. Fernando only had a second to ponder the magnitude of what that whistle actually meant before he had his arms around three different team mates and they were laughing and jumping and crying and yelling in a muddle of excited confusion. David was yelling, Iker was inconsolable, and without a second though, Fernando was searching the field for Sergio.
Their eyes met and suddenly, it was like nothing had ever happened. It was as though they were both kids again without a care in the world except for their passion for the beautiful game and the shared joy that it brought them. Sergio grinned and ran the distance towards Fernando. They collided hard, each wrapping their arms tight around the other as they stumbled a few paces to regain balance from the impact.
“Just for tonight,” Fernando whispered as he clutched Sergio close, “let’s just forget about everything except for that golden trophy. Once the celebrations are over, we can say our goodbyes. But don’t make me do this without you. This is the biggest moment of my career and the biggest moment of your career. We worked towards this together so I want us to celebrate it together. Can you do that?”
There was a pause, a pause so thick with silence that it was almost as though time had stopped. But then...
“Yes.”