Prompt: Betrayal, Character: Cristiano Ronaldo
Title: Father of Mine
Fandom: Football RPF
Pairing: Cristiano Ronaldo/José Dinis Aveiro
Rating: PG
Prompt: Betrayal
Disclaimer: Just figments of my imagination
Word count: 1303
Summary: Cristiano's father died in 2005 from complications due to alcohol abuse.
Cristiano really distrusted journalists. Ever since the 2006 World Cup and the firestorm that came after it, he swore he would never believe a word any of them said. He knew most of the negativity from his transfer wish in the summer of 2008 was his fault, but there were still lies embedded in his truthful words. But when a journalist from the American magazine, Time, asked for an interview and promised that all the money Cristiano would have been paid for his time would be sent to a charity of his choice, Cristiano decided he’d go through with the interview.
The interview was set up at Cristano’s house in Cheshire and the interviewer introduced himself as Mike. Mike spoke fluent Portuguese, which impressed Cristiano and made him relieved that his still poor English wouldn’t be put on display. Cristiano’s brother, Hugo, made tea and showed Mike to Cristiano’s library. Mike walked in an ornate room filled with books, trophies, and photos to see Cristiano juggling a football.
“You take your work home with you often?” Mike asked.
“The ball is the one thing throughout my life that has remained the same. It doesn’t judge me or think differently of me. Plus, I have a short attention span.” Cristiano replied.
Kicking the ball towards Hugo, Cristiano showed Mike to two chairs set up for the interview. Making sure his guest was comfortable, Cristiano relaxed and prepared for the inevitable barrage of personal and professional questions. This was nothing new for him.
“Now, Cristiano, I’d like to ask you about a sensitive subject. How did you deal with your father’s death? Does it still affect you?”
“That’s difficult to answer. Obviously, it still affects me. He was my father, my hero, my world. That night and his funeral were the worst days of my life. I can still remember when I was told.” Cristiano cleared his throat and bit his lower lip slightly, he hated having to relive that night.
He had already put his kit on, pulled up his socks, and laced his boots, when the dressing room began to clear. His coach was walking in his direction with a very sombre look on his face. Cristiano removed his headphones and stood up to greet his boss.
“You need to sit down, son,” said Luiz Felipe Scolari, Portugal’s football coach.
In a few minutes, Cristiano would be playing in a World Cup qualifying match, and he really didn’t want any distractions. But, he did what his coach asked, and took a seat on the dressing room bench. Luiz sat down next to him and put his arm around Cristiano’s shoulders.
“Coach, what’s going on? Where did everyone go?” Cristiano asked in bewilderment.
“I asked them to leave because I needed to speak to you alone. This is very difficult for me to say, and I wish I didn’t have to say it, but your father passed away this afternoon. I’m so sorry, Cristiano.”
“That can’t be right. I talked to him this morning and he sounded fine.” Cristiano stuttered.
His coach shook his head and Cristiano flew from the bench. Sprinting to the toilet, he threw up everything he had in him. Tears flowed from his brown eyes as he struggled to make sense of what was just dropped on him. Lifting himself up, Cristiano walked to the sink to rinse his face off. When he looked in the mirror all he could see was his father’s face. Without thinking, Cristiano raised his fist and punched his reflection, glass scattering around him like snowflakes.
This was not supposed to happen, Cristiano thought. His dad was sick, yes, but he was eventually supposed to get better. His dad was his hero, and a hero was never supposed to get hurt, or die. None of this would have ever happened if his dad went to rehab. Cristiano offered to pay for treatment and even arrange for outpatient care in Manchester, so they could be close by. But his dad said he didn’t have a problem.
“Your father was an alcoholic, I take it?” Mike asked.
“Yes. He changed a lot while I was growing up and my parents divorced. He still came to every single one of my games while I was in Portugal and I flew him up for many of my games here in Manchester.”
“Why wouldn’t he go to treatment?” Mike put down his notepad and turned off his tape recorder. This part was going to be off the record.
“I don’t know. I was very angry for him because of that. I never told him, though. But inside it hurt me so much that he wouldn’t even consider my offer. Then, he died. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t send him to the hospital or buy him anything. My money was worthless and that is exactly how I felt.” Cristiano looked out the window and sighed.
“But you went out and played that night, “ Mike responded.
“That’s what he would have wanted. Life may have been worth a lot less to me at that moment, but if my dad hadn’t died, he would have made damn sure I was giving my all.”
Cristiano gathered himself and walked back into the dressing room. He walked to the medical trainer and had his hands cleaned up. Then, without saying a word to anyone, Cristiano walked out the door and towards the field. As he stepped into the freezing cold of Moscow, Cristiano looked to the sky.
“I can’t believe you’re gone. You weren’t supposed to leave me. I need you. Everything was going right, Dad. I’m going to the World Cup and you aren’t going to be there to cheer me on. This isn’t fair. How could you?” Cristiano struggled to contain his emotions and thought about walking back into the dressing room, but Luiz walked up behind him.
“You know, son, my father died recently. He was one of my very best friends and I was devastated. But you’ve got to pick yourself up. Your dad loved watching you play. He told me all the time how you were going to be one of the world’s greatest players and everyone was going to know your name. And you know what? He’s still going to watch you at the World Cup. He’ll just be getting a better view.”
Patting Cristiano on the back, Luiz headed to the bench. Cristiano took a deep breath of the cold Russian air and realised that his coach was right. His dad would want him to play now and grieve later.
“That took a lot of courage to do, Cristiano. How do you feel about that today?” Mike asked.
“I miss him every day. I’m still angry at how he chose to life his life, because that wasn’t just unfair to me, but unfair to my brother and sisters as well. Even my mother, who was divorced from him at the time, was upset at his death. I don’t drink. I may have one glass of wine or champagne at a celebration or family dinner, but no liquor or beer. I just can’t do it, because I’m so terrified that I could fall into the same trap that my father did. And I don’t want my kids to have to go through what I went through. I want them to have only good times to remember me by.”
Mike ended the interview on that note and thanked Cristiano for his time. Cristiano, pleased at the way the interview went, yet struggling to contain his emotions, showed Mike to the door and thanked him for being a pleasure to work with. And as the cab pulled out of the gates at the end of the drive, Cristiano sighed and let a teardrop roll down his cheek.
Fandom: Football RPF
Pairing: Cristiano Ronaldo/José Dinis Aveiro
Rating: PG
Prompt: Betrayal
Disclaimer: Just figments of my imagination
Word count: 1303
Summary: Cristiano's father died in 2005 from complications due to alcohol abuse.
Cristiano really distrusted journalists. Ever since the 2006 World Cup and the firestorm that came after it, he swore he would never believe a word any of them said. He knew most of the negativity from his transfer wish in the summer of 2008 was his fault, but there were still lies embedded in his truthful words. But when a journalist from the American magazine, Time, asked for an interview and promised that all the money Cristiano would have been paid for his time would be sent to a charity of his choice, Cristiano decided he’d go through with the interview.
The interview was set up at Cristano’s house in Cheshire and the interviewer introduced himself as Mike. Mike spoke fluent Portuguese, which impressed Cristiano and made him relieved that his still poor English wouldn’t be put on display. Cristiano’s brother, Hugo, made tea and showed Mike to Cristiano’s library. Mike walked in an ornate room filled with books, trophies, and photos to see Cristiano juggling a football.
“You take your work home with you often?” Mike asked.
“The ball is the one thing throughout my life that has remained the same. It doesn’t judge me or think differently of me. Plus, I have a short attention span.” Cristiano replied.
Kicking the ball towards Hugo, Cristiano showed Mike to two chairs set up for the interview. Making sure his guest was comfortable, Cristiano relaxed and prepared for the inevitable barrage of personal and professional questions. This was nothing new for him.
“Now, Cristiano, I’d like to ask you about a sensitive subject. How did you deal with your father’s death? Does it still affect you?”
“That’s difficult to answer. Obviously, it still affects me. He was my father, my hero, my world. That night and his funeral were the worst days of my life. I can still remember when I was told.” Cristiano cleared his throat and bit his lower lip slightly, he hated having to relive that night.
He had already put his kit on, pulled up his socks, and laced his boots, when the dressing room began to clear. His coach was walking in his direction with a very sombre look on his face. Cristiano removed his headphones and stood up to greet his boss.
“You need to sit down, son,” said Luiz Felipe Scolari, Portugal’s football coach.
In a few minutes, Cristiano would be playing in a World Cup qualifying match, and he really didn’t want any distractions. But, he did what his coach asked, and took a seat on the dressing room bench. Luiz sat down next to him and put his arm around Cristiano’s shoulders.
“Coach, what’s going on? Where did everyone go?” Cristiano asked in bewilderment.
“I asked them to leave because I needed to speak to you alone. This is very difficult for me to say, and I wish I didn’t have to say it, but your father passed away this afternoon. I’m so sorry, Cristiano.”
“That can’t be right. I talked to him this morning and he sounded fine.” Cristiano stuttered.
His coach shook his head and Cristiano flew from the bench. Sprinting to the toilet, he threw up everything he had in him. Tears flowed from his brown eyes as he struggled to make sense of what was just dropped on him. Lifting himself up, Cristiano walked to the sink to rinse his face off. When he looked in the mirror all he could see was his father’s face. Without thinking, Cristiano raised his fist and punched his reflection, glass scattering around him like snowflakes.
This was not supposed to happen, Cristiano thought. His dad was sick, yes, but he was eventually supposed to get better. His dad was his hero, and a hero was never supposed to get hurt, or die. None of this would have ever happened if his dad went to rehab. Cristiano offered to pay for treatment and even arrange for outpatient care in Manchester, so they could be close by. But his dad said he didn’t have a problem.
“Your father was an alcoholic, I take it?” Mike asked.
“Yes. He changed a lot while I was growing up and my parents divorced. He still came to every single one of my games while I was in Portugal and I flew him up for many of my games here in Manchester.”
“Why wouldn’t he go to treatment?” Mike put down his notepad and turned off his tape recorder. This part was going to be off the record.
“I don’t know. I was very angry for him because of that. I never told him, though. But inside it hurt me so much that he wouldn’t even consider my offer. Then, he died. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t send him to the hospital or buy him anything. My money was worthless and that is exactly how I felt.” Cristiano looked out the window and sighed.
“But you went out and played that night, “ Mike responded.
“That’s what he would have wanted. Life may have been worth a lot less to me at that moment, but if my dad hadn’t died, he would have made damn sure I was giving my all.”
Cristiano gathered himself and walked back into the dressing room. He walked to the medical trainer and had his hands cleaned up. Then, without saying a word to anyone, Cristiano walked out the door and towards the field. As he stepped into the freezing cold of Moscow, Cristiano looked to the sky.
“I can’t believe you’re gone. You weren’t supposed to leave me. I need you. Everything was going right, Dad. I’m going to the World Cup and you aren’t going to be there to cheer me on. This isn’t fair. How could you?” Cristiano struggled to contain his emotions and thought about walking back into the dressing room, but Luiz walked up behind him.
“You know, son, my father died recently. He was one of my very best friends and I was devastated. But you’ve got to pick yourself up. Your dad loved watching you play. He told me all the time how you were going to be one of the world’s greatest players and everyone was going to know your name. And you know what? He’s still going to watch you at the World Cup. He’ll just be getting a better view.”
Patting Cristiano on the back, Luiz headed to the bench. Cristiano took a deep breath of the cold Russian air and realised that his coach was right. His dad would want him to play now and grieve later.
“That took a lot of courage to do, Cristiano. How do you feel about that today?” Mike asked.
“I miss him every day. I’m still angry at how he chose to life his life, because that wasn’t just unfair to me, but unfair to my brother and sisters as well. Even my mother, who was divorced from him at the time, was upset at his death. I don’t drink. I may have one glass of wine or champagne at a celebration or family dinner, but no liquor or beer. I just can’t do it, because I’m so terrified that I could fall into the same trap that my father did. And I don’t want my kids to have to go through what I went through. I want them to have only good times to remember me by.”
Mike ended the interview on that note and thanked Cristiano for his time. Cristiano, pleased at the way the interview went, yet struggling to contain his emotions, showed Mike to the door and thanked him for being a pleasure to work with. And as the cab pulled out of the gates at the end of the drive, Cristiano sighed and let a teardrop roll down his cheek.