as restless as the sea
by irradiant
He doesn't notice that he's been hit until he's on the ground, limbs tangling with an Espanyol defender. Something sharp - an elbow, a knee - connects with his face, right below his eye. He thinks, this is gonna hurt, and a piercing pain blossoms from his cheek, shooting across his face. His vision goes black for a second before he sees stars. He can't think of the last time something hurt this bad, although it might have been his left leg two years before or - And then he can't think at all. He passes out.
When Leo comes to he's being carried off the field. Someone is moaning. Someone says, "Oh my god, Leo." He thinks it might be Gerard. Or Cesc. There's an echo, a hum, a murmur in the crowd. He realizes that the sound is him, groaning low in his throat like a wounded animal and he can't seem to stop. His eyelids flutter open and shut, the sky tilting perilously above him. A fat cloud expands lazily into miles of blue. It's the last game of the season.
**
They take him to the hospital in an ambulance. On the way Leo's father Jorge holds his hand, face white with shock, and tells him everything will be okay.
Leo worries about the score.
**
Leo doesn't remember much right after. They tell him he's fractured his cheekbone and won't be able to play for the next two weeks. His stomach drops. He won't make the Copa Catalunya. "It's not as important as your health," his father tells him and he knows, rationally, this should be his reaction as well.
While the nurse takes his blood pressure Jorge's cell phone rings. The match has ended 3-1 and Leo's team has been crowned champions. Alejandro insists on talking to Leo over the phone, praising him for a wonderful season and how he's very sorry for the injury and it won't be long before he's back on the field. Leo can't nod because his head hurts and he can't speak because he might cry if he tries. So he bites his lip and when Alejandro pauses, hands the phone back to his father.
**
He rests for a couple of hours in his hospital room and when he wakes up it's evening already. The door cracks open. Cesc slinks halfway through, blinking owlishly in the dark. "Leo?"
"I'm here," Leo says, his throat dry. Cesc walks through, his arms loaded with magazines and Gerard follows behind him. Gerard makes a beeline for Leo's bed, bending to examine his cheek.
"I'll kill him," Gerard mutters, his hand gently cupping Leo's jaw, angling Leo's face so he can get a better look at the site of injury. His words stand in contrast to his touch, and Leo wants to remind him that he's been examined by the doctors already, and the trainers, and people, you know, qualified to give medical opinions. He would say this if he knew it would have any effect on Gerard's stubborn insistence to form his own opinions.
"That's not - I don't think that's a good idea," Leo says between clenched teeth. His face feels relatively numb as long as he doesn't move it that much.
"Let him go," Cesc says in an anxious whisper. He's seated himself besides Leo on the bed, with his magazines in his lap. He bats away Gerard's hand and gets a reproachful look in response. "I've brought you some things to keep you busy." Cesc turns to Leo, shuffling closer. Leo feels overly warm in the small space, his skin still sleepy-hot from his afternoon nap. Cesc keeps a hand on Leo's knee as he talks to him, his thumb tracing small circles in Leo's skin as if he can draw out his warmth and pain and worries. "And your medal of course," Cesc says, dropping the cool circle of metal into Leo's palm. It feels lighter than Leo thought it would be. Smaller.
"I think I still want to play the next match," Leo murmurs.
Cesc makes a soft concerned noise, patting at Leo's knee. "Come on now, Leo, that's way too dangerous."
"That is definitely not happening," Gerard says over his shoulder. He's bent over the radio which is propped on a stool in the corner of the room. It blasts static every few seconds as he attempts to tune it to a station he likes. Leo thinks the conversation would go easier if he left it alone and came a little closer. This is Gerard's way, he supposes, of keeping a distance between them. He's satisfied for the moment with feigned nonchalance rather than anger.
"Two weeks isn't that bad." Cesc interjects. "It'll pass by sooner than you think."
"But if they say I can play - "
Gerard stands at his full height beside's Leo's bed, glowering down, arms crossed at his chest. He looks like a very angry baby giraffe. "You have to rest the full two weeks," Gerard says in his best tone of authority. The color is rising in his throat and Cesc fidgets besides Leo, sensing the unspoken undercurrent. "Uh, we can talk about this later, ok?" Cesc says.
Leo shrugs mutely in response. He's scared of playing injured and he knows Gerard is probably speaking out of fear, but the thought of not playing football terrifies him even more. He doesn't want the team to play without him because if they lose it'll be his fault. And what was he supposed to do during the next two weeks? He's come to Barcelona to play football, and if there's the slightest chance he can still play injured, he will.
Gerard sulks by the radio for the next few minutes while Cesc flips through the magazines with Leo. The nurse knocks on the door to signal the end of visiting hours and Cesc pats Leo's back gingerly. "It's gonna be ok," he says. Gerard waves a sullen goodbye from the threshold. The radio's still on and it takes Leo a good five minutes to realize that Gerard left it tuned to Leo's favorite station - the music low and staticky, filling the silent room.
**
They discharge Leo in the late evening. He stays up long enough to try some of his father's beef stew. The medication has numbed most of the pain, but it still hurts to chew and he's afraid of making it worse. So he sips at the broth and watches the match highlights for the week and tries not to wonder how Gerard is ending his day.
They show segments of yesterday's Clasico. First Ronaldo's goal at the 16th minute, then Luis Enrique making it a draw just before the end of the first half. "Just wait until you sink your claws in them," Jorge says, dipping a piece of bread into his bowl of stew. Leo doesn't feel like he can sink his claws into much of anything just now, let alone a first division team.
He hears his father's cell phone buzz in the pocket of his jeans. Leo doesn't have a phone yet so sometimes his friends will text him on Jorge's phone if it's important. But he doesn't ask and Jorge doesn't offer, his attention fixated on the evening broadcast.
Leo leaves most of his dinner unfinished. In the kitchen, he packs a Ziploc bag with ice and wraps a paper towel around it then presses it lightly against his cheek to keep the swelling down. It's still early when he goes to bed. He falls asleep to the mingling sounds of the television and the distant noise of the city outside his open window.
**
Leo sleeps fitfully, waking several times in the middle of the night, sweating in the still summer heat. He keeps dreaming that he's on the pitch again except this time the Espanyol defender crashes into him while the teams are drawn at 0-0 and he's rushed off before he has the chance to score. And again the defender and again the ambulance and doctors, the nurses and trainers all leaning down to peer at him, asking, "Leo? Leo?"
He wakes up to morning and Gerard at his bedside, slipping the now water-filled bag from the side of Leo's face.
"Leo?" Gerard asks softly. He's dressed for school, an oversized polo shirt and baggy cargo shorts. His backpack lies at the foot of Leo's bed. "You ok? Your dad let me in."
Leo nods his head and notices the glass of water and pills in Gerard's hand at about the same time a lance of pain shoots through the side of his face. Gerard's brow furrows and he offers Leo the medicine. "Here, take this."
Gerard watches silently, reaching to help Leo sit up when he's done. His head feels too big for his body, like he's turned into a bobblehead doll overnight, and he sits still for a few seconds waiting for his balance to adjust.
"Aren't you gonna be late?" Leo mumbles.
Gerard grimaces in response and says, "Nah, I'll make it in time. Let's get you some breakfast."
Leo doubts he can get anything solid past his lips and he feels strangely embarrassed about it, like informing Gerard will disappoint him, and this is somehow worse than not being able to eat. Gerard senses his hesitation and smiles, saying, "Don't worry. I think we can make you a smoothie or something."
Gerard's in a better mood than the day before, humming a little as he tosses ingredients into the blender. Leo watches from a barstool nearby, kicking his heels a bit as Gerard adds ice, fruit, milk, and even a tablespoon of vanilla yogurt. He's never had yogurt in a milkshake before - at least he doesn't think he has - but he doesn't complain or interrupt him, trusting that if Gerard is making it for him than it must be good.
Gerard finishes quickly, stealing glances at his digital watch every few seconds. By the time he's done blending, the liquid is a faint pink color, spotted with tiny black strawberry seeds. He pours most of the shake into a tall glass and hands it to Leo, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Oh man," Gerard says, "I'm gonna be late if I don't run. Is it good?"
It's delicious and sweet and Leo says so, taking another sip as Gerard hefts his backpack to his shoulder. He doesn't feel so strange now thinking about Gerard because he knows Gerard must have been thinking about him too. And he doesn't know how to say it without sounding weird so he just nods his head again and says, "Thanks."
"No problem," Gerard says. He squeezes Leo's shoulder and slides his hand up around Leo's neck. Leo's sure Gerard can feel his pulse jumping in his throat. Gerard leans down as if he's going to whisper something into Leo's ear, except he doesn't; he presses a kiss to the corner of Leo's lips. It feels soft and nice and it makes Leo's heart leap in his throat in ways he really can't explain, especially for how short it is. All he can do is clutch his glass and stare at Gerard.
"See you later," Gerard says, smiling, like he kisses people like this all the time - kisses boys like this all the time.
When he hears the front door shut Leo steps out on the balcony and watches as Gerard makes his way across the apartment building courtyard, thin arms swinging as he runs. He wonders if Gerard has kissed Cesc but then quickly dismisses this from mind. He wants to believe that this is something special, just between the two of them.
**
Without school or football the day feels empty. Leo sits in the living room with a pack of ice held gingerly to his cheek and watches television. He starts on a book review which isn't due for another two weeks, then reads ahead for his history class. The swelling in his cheek diminishes slowly throughout the day. For lunch he makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and chews off a bite, willing himself to heal but the pain is too much. He heats up last night's stew instead and sips at the broth.
Cesc arrives in the mid-afternoon, scratching at the front screen door. "I brought your homework," he calls out. Leo's clearly visible from his line of sight and he's been over plenty of times before. But he waits at the threshold, shifting from foot to foot, until Leo opens the door. "I can't stay long," Cesc says, fishing the papers from his bag. They're held together with an oversized paperclip and there's a sticky note on top with "LEO" written in big capital letters, as if to distinguish him from all the other kids Cesc takes homework to.
"That's fine," Leo says. "Thanks for remembering me."
"Hey," Cesc says brightly, "your cheek is looking a lot better."
"Thanks," Leo says again. "Did Gerard say anything?" He doesn't mean to mention Gerard. In fact, he promised himself he wouldn't because there would be no reason to, and even asking would seem suspicious. But it slips out. He's been thinking of him all day.
"Say anything about what? Your cheek?"
"Um. No." Leo flushes. "I mean. Yeah. About my cheek."
Cesc shrugs. "No, not really." He zips his bag closed and looks out the open doorway like he's expecting someone and Leo remembers, oh, Monday afternoon practice.
"It's ok," Leo says, "You can go."
Cesc smiles in relief. "Thanks, buddy. See you later."
**
The first week passes by slowly. The doctors set a check-up appointment with Leo for Sunday - a week from the time of injury - and he marks it on his wall calendar. He's hopeful that by then they'll find him well enough to play so he drinks plenty of milk everyday and does what Gerard calls positive visualization.
"It's when you really want something, right? So you sit still for a while and you think about what you want and you imagine it happening." Gerard's over on Wednesday afternoon. He'd found Leo in the courtyard, kicking a football around with the younger kids from the neighborhood. He'd been furious, snatching the ball away from a wide-eyed six-year-old and yelling at Leo that he was going to hurt himself again.
Leo watches Gerard stuff the football in question in his training bag. He looks around Leo's room for other balls to confiscate and Leo fidgets, trying not to glance at his desk where he has one hidden in the bottom drawer.
"Sounds like something you'd hear on Oprah," Leo says.
Gerard makes a noncommittal sound, leaning to look under Leo's bed.
"What does that mean? Does that mean yes?"
Gerard looks up to where Leo is leaning against his nightstand. He grins and darts a finger out to poke Leo's ribs, knowing that he's ticklish. Leo giggles and draws his arms up in protection. "Geri watches Oprah!" Leo yells. Gerard leaps at Leo, wrestling him down on the bed. It isn't much of a fight, even as a mock one, because Gerard is much taller and stronger but Leo doesn't mind. Gerard gets a hold of both Leo's arms and crosses them at his chest, straddling him around his middle. "Mercy or I'll twist your arm," Gerard says.
"You wouldn't," Leo says. Gerard stares at him for a second before rolling his eyes, expression softening. "Little imp," he murmurs. His cheeks are flushed and he's close enough that Leo can count his eyelashes. Leo lies still until Gerard kisses him, releasing his arms and carding his fingers through Leo's hair, tugging just enough to tilt Leo's face up so he can kiss the line of his jaw down to his neck. They make out and Leo loses track of time; all he can think about is Gerard's lips on his, the taste and feel of him, the sense he gets of coiled power behind every touch. He can't stop thinking about the feel of Gerard's hands pressing down on him, completely overpowering and it shouldn't feel as good as it does. Gerard's hard-on presses against Leo's stomach so Leo wriggles a little until their hips are matched and grinds up against him, rubbing their dicks together.
Gerard makes a sound of surprise in the back of his throat, and then matches Leo's rhythm, bracing his hands on either side of Leo's head. He's too far away to kiss so Leo grabs onto his hips and keeps him close, rubbing against him until his whole body goes tight and he shudders out his orgasm. Gerard is two seconds behind and when it's over he doesn't seem to mind that they've made a mess of their shorts, he just leans down and kisses Leo again until their lips are swollen and bruised.
Gerard collapses besides him and tucks his face into Leo's neck, exhausted. The room is completely silent except for the sound of their breathing, slowing down. They startle when the front door slams shut and Leo's father calls out for him.
"Shit, shit, shit," Gerard mutters, scrambling to his feet. He peels off his shorts and boxers and they clean up in Leo's bathroom together, fumbling for clean clothes.
"Eh, I guess I'll be walking around like this for the next two hours," Gerard says, stepping into his practice shorts.
Leo laughs, pulling his shirt over his head. He feels a little triumphant, like he's left his mark on Gerard, just enough so that people will wonder but nobody would ever figure it out.
The television sparks on in the living room. "Right," Gerard says. "Call me Sunday, let me know how it goes."
"Alright." Leo opens the door as Gerard grabs his gear. He hesitates at the door, like he might go for the usual head pat but Leo tugs him down by his sleeve, standing on tip-toe to meet him halfway, and pecks a kiss on his cheek.
**
They give him the all clear on Sunday. He's healing well and with the right protective gear he can play in next weeks' match. He calls Alejandro as soon as he steps outside the doctor's office. He's silent on the other end for a moment before speaking. "Puyol used a face mask a few weeks back," he says. "If you agree to wear it I'll let you play."
Leo swears up and down that he'll wear it, that he's dying to play. When Alejandro agrees, Leo shouts his joy, jumping in the hospital parking lot. His dad laughs and speaks with the coach for a while. Leo's so happy he barely notices the drive home.
**
That night the first team plays against Real Sociedad and they win 2-1.
It feels like a good omen.
**
On Monday they let him train alone in the gym and away from the others on the training field. He's happy enough to be back playing that he doesn't mind having to do it alone. He doesn't complain when they make him run on the treadmill indoors - as it is he gets to see a couple of first team players up close - because afterwards he gets a ball at his feet under the bright summer sun and it's just like it was before.
**
He doesn't get to see much of Gerard that week. Thursday night they have dinner at Cesc's house and take turns playing FIFA. Gerard loses and hands the controller to Leo, pulling him closer on the sofa, petting his hair. Leo pulls his knees up and leans against Gerard's side.
"You two are getting handsy," Cesc observes from his position on the living room floor.
"His hair is just really soft," Gerard deadpans.
Cesc snorts. "Whatever," he says, turning back to the screen where Leo is busy manipulating a goal.
"That was a fucking sneak attack!" Cesc yelps. Gerard tugs at Leo's hair and in an undertone says, "Good boy."
Leo doesn't stop smiling for a good five minutes.
**
They don't get a moment alone together again until Saturday night. Friday is spent with Leo's dad, watching Oliver y Benji re-runs while Jorge tries to call family in Argentina. He sits under the light of a table lamb, phone in hand while Leo reads out the calling card number. "What was that last one? Nine?" Jorge says, reading glasses slipping down his nose.
"Here, let me," Gerard says. Onscreen, Oliver grits his way through the final. His shoulder is injured but he plays anyways and Leo thinks, just like me. Except Oliver has an enemy which Leo could do without. He doesn't think he could ever do anything anyway that would make someone hate him.
"It's ringing," Gerard whispers, handing Leo the phone. The line crackles and beeps, beeps, beeps until he hears his mother pick up, her voice reaching him through thousands of miles, tinny and small in Leo's ear.
**
Saturday night they're in Leo's room. His dad's been asleep for hours and the two of them had stayed up, reading through Cesc's football magazines with a flashlight under the bedcovers and pretending they didn't want to get their hands on each other. Finally, Leo's too exhausted to carry on. He rests on his good side and holds his breath, waits. Gerard looks at him blankly for a long moment. Leo wills himself to relax, not to fidget. He tilts his head back, exposing his throat.
The light clicks off. In the sudden dark Leo can't quite make out Gerard's expression. He crawls over Leo and hovers until he pulls him down, welcoming the weight and warmth of him. Gerard kisses him. Leo's not sure what to do but he thinks Gerard must have done this before and he trusts him to take the lead. Gerard licks inside Leo's mouth slowly and it feels good, better than Leo had thought. He slides a hand under Leo's shirt, palming the flat of his stomach and Leo makes noises he's never heard before.
His heart rate picks up like he's running on the field and he shivers at Gerard's touch, a million thoughts flying through his head. He wants this, desperately. Even though he's not sure exactly what this is he feels like he's been waiting for it forever. "Leo, Leo is this okay?" Gerard asks. His hand drifts lower, until his fingers dip just below the waistband of Leo's shorts and Leo bucks up, whimpers, already half-hard. "Yeah," Leo says and nods, biting down on his lower lip.
He lifts his hips and pulls his shorts down and Gerard palms Leo's cock through the fabric of his boxers, stroking him until he's filled out completely and leaking. "Geri," Leo gasps, "please - "
Gerard looks up at Leo. "Can I use my mouth?"
Leo's flushes. He doesn't trust himself to speak again so he just nods and throws his head back on his pillow, too afraid to look down. Gerard slips Leo's boxers down until his cock is free and takes him into his mouth, licking up and down the length of him. Leo sucks in his breath and moans involuntarily. He glances down and sees the pink of Gerard's tongue dart out, lapping at the tip of his cock and it's too much - he tenses and comes, hips pushing up into Gerard's fist.
Gerard gets up and reaches for some tissues from the nearby nightstand, wiping at his hand. He hands a couple over to Leo.
"Wait. Come here, let me - " Leo says, reaching for Gerard. He's more than happy to return the favor, even though he's not sure at first if he's doing everything right. Gerard seems to enjoy it. He murmurs encouraging words to Leo the whole way through and when he's close he pulls away from Leo's mouth, stroking himself to completion. Leo's seen him naked before but this feels different, the smooth golden tone of Gerard's skin, the lean muscle of his chest and thighs; all new and beautiful in the secrecy of Leo's room.
When they're cleaned up and dressed for bed Gerard crawls into the bed besides Leo. He nuzzles against the side of Leo's neck, nudging him and Leo takes the clue, scooting to make space for Gerard in his narrow bed. He turns to his side, facing the wall, and Gerard curves his body around him. "I've never had someone in my bed before," Leo says, feeling ridiculous as soon as he says it.
Gerard laughs quietly, "Yeah? No one ever?" His breath is hot against the back of Leo's neck and he leans in to press his lips there. Leo shivers.
"No. Just you."
"Good," Gerard says, kissing him again. He smiles against Leo's skin and Leo wishes it could be just like this forever, just him and Gerard.
He's nodding off when Gerard speaks again. "Hey, Leo?"
"Yeah?" Leo says. He makes a feeble attempt to turn towards Gerard, but Gerard pulls him tighter against him.
"Promise me you'll be careful tomorrow?"
"Mmkay. I will."
"Promise?"
"I promise," Leo mumbles.
**
In the morning Leo worries that things will be awkward between them. Gerard is already in the bathroom when he wakes up. He waits outside the door as Gerard hums and brushes his teeth. At the last second he decides it might be too confrontational, so he runs back to his room and prepares his duffel bag for the game.
He's laying out his uniform on his bed when Gerard walks into the room. Leo keeps his eyes down at the socks in his hands. "Morning," he says, too afraid to see the expression on Gerard's face.
Gerard's arms circle around him, chin coming to rest on Leo's shoulder. "Good morning yourself," he says.
Leo's overcome with relief and he smiles so hard he has to bite down on his tongue.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Nothing. I'm just excited for the game."
Gerard laughs and straightens up, ruffling Leo's hair. "Me too," he says. "Come on, I think your Dad's making French toast."
**
As soon as he puts the mask on, Leo knows something's wrong. It's too big and loose, no matter how much he tries to tighten the strap. It keeps sliding down his nose and obscuring his vision. The whistle blows: it's too late to get a new one even if he asked for it. His stomach flips and he glances to the sidelines where Alejandro is motioning the players onward. He tries lifting it as he runs but it's a losing battle. He glances to Gerard, heart in his throat. Gerard frowns, the backline advances and they meet in the middle.
"What's wrong?" Gerard says.
"I can't see! It keeps sliding down!" Leo can hear the panic in his voice. Gerard's mouth presses into a thin, straight line, "Don't - " The ball is lobbed across field, an Espanyol defender intercepts it and Gerard is off before he can finish.
Two minutes pass. Leo grits his teeth, runs over to the bench. He rips the mask off and tosses it to Alejandro.
"Leo, what are you doing? I'll have to take you off, you can't play without this."
"Leave me on," Leo pleads. He's more afraid of not playing than getting injured again. He knows he can do this, he just has to get a fair chance, he just has to score once -
Alejandro opens his mouth to speak once, then again. He looks past Leo at the field, eyes calculating. "Ten minutes," he says. "Then I take you off."
He's in the middle of the pitch when he gets the first ball. It's a minute after his conversation with Alejandro, a minute after he tore off his mask and he scores. His heart thumps against his chest, and he turns to see Gerard running up to him, lifting him from the ground.
Within another four minutes Songo'o passes him the ball from the touchline, Leo scores again and he thinks yes, yes finally. He doesn't think it could get any better until Gerard scores right before the end of the first half. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, his name and then Gerard's on the scoreboard, his goals and then Gerard's, and Gerard's arm around him when the whistle blows.
**
The day they win the Copa passes swift as a dream. The summer days afterwards seem to linger; the heat slowing everything down. Most afternoons Gerard comes over to Leo's house and they skirmish until dusk falls.
"Do you think it'll be like this next season?" Leo asks. They're resting on the empty patch of grass tucked away near Leo's apartment building. Gerard leans back, his hands behind him. In the silence they hear the distant sound of a mother calling her children for dinner, the day unwinding.
"I don't know," Gerard says, "I hope so. I think we can do it even better than this season. We could win every season. Every season until we make the first team and then we'll be real champions. First class."
Leo turns his face down, his words tight in his chest like a vise. He can never be as sure as Gerard is of anything, but he wants to believe because it feels right: Gerard and him. It feels like it could be this way next season and the season after that. And all the empty summers in between will now be filled. He tries to hide his smile but Gerard catches it anyways, nudging Leo with his knee until he looks up. "That's my dream," Leo says finally and the words are quiet but they carry in the still dark.
"I know," Gerard responds, his face somber. "It's my dream too."
He stares at Leo until Leo grabs him by his shirt and pulls him close enough to kiss him breathless. Somewhere a moped speeds through an empty street. It's dark enough that no one sees two boys, tangled together in the dry summer grass.
**
a/n:
1. Alejandro is Alejandro Garcia Casañas (sometimes referred to as Alex Garcia), who once played on the famous Dream Team squad at Barcelona during the early 90s and who coached Messi, Pique, and Cesc (amongst others) through the 2002-2003 season.
2. Jorge is Jorge Messi, Lionel's father. Although initially the entire family including Lionel's mother, two brothers, and younger sister moved to Barcelona they found it difficult to adjust. By late summer 2001 Lionel's mother and siblings had returned to Argentina.
3. Oliver y Benji, also known as Captain Tsubasa, is a Japanese anime series which aired throughout the 90s and early 2000s popular amongst many football players including Pique and Xavi.
4. Pictured here: Messi, Pique, and Cesc before the Copa match on May 4, 2003.
5. My eternal gratitude to eileenyx for feedback, encouragement, and being an all around awesome person. Thanks also to san, greenpixiehair, and minny150 for being amazing and answering my ridiculously detailed questions. :*
He doesn't notice that he's been hit until he's on the ground, limbs tangling with an Espanyol defender. Something sharp - an elbow, a knee - connects with his face, right below his eye. He thinks, this is gonna hurt, and a piercing pain blossoms from his cheek, shooting across his face. His vision goes black for a second before he sees stars. He can't think of the last time something hurt this bad, although it might have been his left leg two years before or - And then he can't think at all. He passes out.
When Leo comes to he's being carried off the field. Someone is moaning. Someone says, "Oh my god, Leo." He thinks it might be Gerard. Or Cesc. There's an echo, a hum, a murmur in the crowd. He realizes that the sound is him, groaning low in his throat like a wounded animal and he can't seem to stop. His eyelids flutter open and shut, the sky tilting perilously above him. A fat cloud expands lazily into miles of blue. It's the last game of the season.
**
They take him to the hospital in an ambulance. On the way Leo's father Jorge holds his hand, face white with shock, and tells him everything will be okay.
Leo worries about the score.
**
Leo doesn't remember much right after. They tell him he's fractured his cheekbone and won't be able to play for the next two weeks. His stomach drops. He won't make the Copa Catalunya. "It's not as important as your health," his father tells him and he knows, rationally, this should be his reaction as well.
While the nurse takes his blood pressure Jorge's cell phone rings. The match has ended 3-1 and Leo's team has been crowned champions. Alejandro insists on talking to Leo over the phone, praising him for a wonderful season and how he's very sorry for the injury and it won't be long before he's back on the field. Leo can't nod because his head hurts and he can't speak because he might cry if he tries. So he bites his lip and when Alejandro pauses, hands the phone back to his father.
**
He rests for a couple of hours in his hospital room and when he wakes up it's evening already. The door cracks open. Cesc slinks halfway through, blinking owlishly in the dark. "Leo?"
"I'm here," Leo says, his throat dry. Cesc walks through, his arms loaded with magazines and Gerard follows behind him. Gerard makes a beeline for Leo's bed, bending to examine his cheek.
"I'll kill him," Gerard mutters, his hand gently cupping Leo's jaw, angling Leo's face so he can get a better look at the site of injury. His words stand in contrast to his touch, and Leo wants to remind him that he's been examined by the doctors already, and the trainers, and people, you know, qualified to give medical opinions. He would say this if he knew it would have any effect on Gerard's stubborn insistence to form his own opinions.
"That's not - I don't think that's a good idea," Leo says between clenched teeth. His face feels relatively numb as long as he doesn't move it that much.
"Let him go," Cesc says in an anxious whisper. He's seated himself besides Leo on the bed, with his magazines in his lap. He bats away Gerard's hand and gets a reproachful look in response. "I've brought you some things to keep you busy." Cesc turns to Leo, shuffling closer. Leo feels overly warm in the small space, his skin still sleepy-hot from his afternoon nap. Cesc keeps a hand on Leo's knee as he talks to him, his thumb tracing small circles in Leo's skin as if he can draw out his warmth and pain and worries. "And your medal of course," Cesc says, dropping the cool circle of metal into Leo's palm. It feels lighter than Leo thought it would be. Smaller.
"I think I still want to play the next match," Leo murmurs.
Cesc makes a soft concerned noise, patting at Leo's knee. "Come on now, Leo, that's way too dangerous."
"That is definitely not happening," Gerard says over his shoulder. He's bent over the radio which is propped on a stool in the corner of the room. It blasts static every few seconds as he attempts to tune it to a station he likes. Leo thinks the conversation would go easier if he left it alone and came a little closer. This is Gerard's way, he supposes, of keeping a distance between them. He's satisfied for the moment with feigned nonchalance rather than anger.
"Two weeks isn't that bad." Cesc interjects. "It'll pass by sooner than you think."
"But if they say I can play - "
Gerard stands at his full height beside's Leo's bed, glowering down, arms crossed at his chest. He looks like a very angry baby giraffe. "You have to rest the full two weeks," Gerard says in his best tone of authority. The color is rising in his throat and Cesc fidgets besides Leo, sensing the unspoken undercurrent. "Uh, we can talk about this later, ok?" Cesc says.
Leo shrugs mutely in response. He's scared of playing injured and he knows Gerard is probably speaking out of fear, but the thought of not playing football terrifies him even more. He doesn't want the team to play without him because if they lose it'll be his fault. And what was he supposed to do during the next two weeks? He's come to Barcelona to play football, and if there's the slightest chance he can still play injured, he will.
Gerard sulks by the radio for the next few minutes while Cesc flips through the magazines with Leo. The nurse knocks on the door to signal the end of visiting hours and Cesc pats Leo's back gingerly. "It's gonna be ok," he says. Gerard waves a sullen goodbye from the threshold. The radio's still on and it takes Leo a good five minutes to realize that Gerard left it tuned to Leo's favorite station - the music low and staticky, filling the silent room.
**
They discharge Leo in the late evening. He stays up long enough to try some of his father's beef stew. The medication has numbed most of the pain, but it still hurts to chew and he's afraid of making it worse. So he sips at the broth and watches the match highlights for the week and tries not to wonder how Gerard is ending his day.
They show segments of yesterday's Clasico. First Ronaldo's goal at the 16th minute, then Luis Enrique making it a draw just before the end of the first half. "Just wait until you sink your claws in them," Jorge says, dipping a piece of bread into his bowl of stew. Leo doesn't feel like he can sink his claws into much of anything just now, let alone a first division team.
He hears his father's cell phone buzz in the pocket of his jeans. Leo doesn't have a phone yet so sometimes his friends will text him on Jorge's phone if it's important. But he doesn't ask and Jorge doesn't offer, his attention fixated on the evening broadcast.
Leo leaves most of his dinner unfinished. In the kitchen, he packs a Ziploc bag with ice and wraps a paper towel around it then presses it lightly against his cheek to keep the swelling down. It's still early when he goes to bed. He falls asleep to the mingling sounds of the television and the distant noise of the city outside his open window.
**
Leo sleeps fitfully, waking several times in the middle of the night, sweating in the still summer heat. He keeps dreaming that he's on the pitch again except this time the Espanyol defender crashes into him while the teams are drawn at 0-0 and he's rushed off before he has the chance to score. And again the defender and again the ambulance and doctors, the nurses and trainers all leaning down to peer at him, asking, "Leo? Leo?"
He wakes up to morning and Gerard at his bedside, slipping the now water-filled bag from the side of Leo's face.
"Leo?" Gerard asks softly. He's dressed for school, an oversized polo shirt and baggy cargo shorts. His backpack lies at the foot of Leo's bed. "You ok? Your dad let me in."
Leo nods his head and notices the glass of water and pills in Gerard's hand at about the same time a lance of pain shoots through the side of his face. Gerard's brow furrows and he offers Leo the medicine. "Here, take this."
Gerard watches silently, reaching to help Leo sit up when he's done. His head feels too big for his body, like he's turned into a bobblehead doll overnight, and he sits still for a few seconds waiting for his balance to adjust.
"Aren't you gonna be late?" Leo mumbles.
Gerard grimaces in response and says, "Nah, I'll make it in time. Let's get you some breakfast."
Leo doubts he can get anything solid past his lips and he feels strangely embarrassed about it, like informing Gerard will disappoint him, and this is somehow worse than not being able to eat. Gerard senses his hesitation and smiles, saying, "Don't worry. I think we can make you a smoothie or something."
Gerard's in a better mood than the day before, humming a little as he tosses ingredients into the blender. Leo watches from a barstool nearby, kicking his heels a bit as Gerard adds ice, fruit, milk, and even a tablespoon of vanilla yogurt. He's never had yogurt in a milkshake before - at least he doesn't think he has - but he doesn't complain or interrupt him, trusting that if Gerard is making it for him than it must be good.
Gerard finishes quickly, stealing glances at his digital watch every few seconds. By the time he's done blending, the liquid is a faint pink color, spotted with tiny black strawberry seeds. He pours most of the shake into a tall glass and hands it to Leo, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Oh man," Gerard says, "I'm gonna be late if I don't run. Is it good?"
It's delicious and sweet and Leo says so, taking another sip as Gerard hefts his backpack to his shoulder. He doesn't feel so strange now thinking about Gerard because he knows Gerard must have been thinking about him too. And he doesn't know how to say it without sounding weird so he just nods his head again and says, "Thanks."
"No problem," Gerard says. He squeezes Leo's shoulder and slides his hand up around Leo's neck. Leo's sure Gerard can feel his pulse jumping in his throat. Gerard leans down as if he's going to whisper something into Leo's ear, except he doesn't; he presses a kiss to the corner of Leo's lips. It feels soft and nice and it makes Leo's heart leap in his throat in ways he really can't explain, especially for how short it is. All he can do is clutch his glass and stare at Gerard.
"See you later," Gerard says, smiling, like he kisses people like this all the time - kisses boys like this all the time.
When he hears the front door shut Leo steps out on the balcony and watches as Gerard makes his way across the apartment building courtyard, thin arms swinging as he runs. He wonders if Gerard has kissed Cesc but then quickly dismisses this from mind. He wants to believe that this is something special, just between the two of them.
**
Without school or football the day feels empty. Leo sits in the living room with a pack of ice held gingerly to his cheek and watches television. He starts on a book review which isn't due for another two weeks, then reads ahead for his history class. The swelling in his cheek diminishes slowly throughout the day. For lunch he makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and chews off a bite, willing himself to heal but the pain is too much. He heats up last night's stew instead and sips at the broth.
Cesc arrives in the mid-afternoon, scratching at the front screen door. "I brought your homework," he calls out. Leo's clearly visible from his line of sight and he's been over plenty of times before. But he waits at the threshold, shifting from foot to foot, until Leo opens the door. "I can't stay long," Cesc says, fishing the papers from his bag. They're held together with an oversized paperclip and there's a sticky note on top with "LEO" written in big capital letters, as if to distinguish him from all the other kids Cesc takes homework to.
"That's fine," Leo says. "Thanks for remembering me."
"Hey," Cesc says brightly, "your cheek is looking a lot better."
"Thanks," Leo says again. "Did Gerard say anything?" He doesn't mean to mention Gerard. In fact, he promised himself he wouldn't because there would be no reason to, and even asking would seem suspicious. But it slips out. He's been thinking of him all day.
"Say anything about what? Your cheek?"
"Um. No." Leo flushes. "I mean. Yeah. About my cheek."
Cesc shrugs. "No, not really." He zips his bag closed and looks out the open doorway like he's expecting someone and Leo remembers, oh, Monday afternoon practice.
"It's ok," Leo says, "You can go."
Cesc smiles in relief. "Thanks, buddy. See you later."
**
The first week passes by slowly. The doctors set a check-up appointment with Leo for Sunday - a week from the time of injury - and he marks it on his wall calendar. He's hopeful that by then they'll find him well enough to play so he drinks plenty of milk everyday and does what Gerard calls positive visualization.
"It's when you really want something, right? So you sit still for a while and you think about what you want and you imagine it happening." Gerard's over on Wednesday afternoon. He'd found Leo in the courtyard, kicking a football around with the younger kids from the neighborhood. He'd been furious, snatching the ball away from a wide-eyed six-year-old and yelling at Leo that he was going to hurt himself again.
Leo watches Gerard stuff the football in question in his training bag. He looks around Leo's room for other balls to confiscate and Leo fidgets, trying not to glance at his desk where he has one hidden in the bottom drawer.
"Sounds like something you'd hear on Oprah," Leo says.
Gerard makes a noncommittal sound, leaning to look under Leo's bed.
"What does that mean? Does that mean yes?"
Gerard looks up to where Leo is leaning against his nightstand. He grins and darts a finger out to poke Leo's ribs, knowing that he's ticklish. Leo giggles and draws his arms up in protection. "Geri watches Oprah!" Leo yells. Gerard leaps at Leo, wrestling him down on the bed. It isn't much of a fight, even as a mock one, because Gerard is much taller and stronger but Leo doesn't mind. Gerard gets a hold of both Leo's arms and crosses them at his chest, straddling him around his middle. "Mercy or I'll twist your arm," Gerard says.
"You wouldn't," Leo says. Gerard stares at him for a second before rolling his eyes, expression softening. "Little imp," he murmurs. His cheeks are flushed and he's close enough that Leo can count his eyelashes. Leo lies still until Gerard kisses him, releasing his arms and carding his fingers through Leo's hair, tugging just enough to tilt Leo's face up so he can kiss the line of his jaw down to his neck. They make out and Leo loses track of time; all he can think about is Gerard's lips on his, the taste and feel of him, the sense he gets of coiled power behind every touch. He can't stop thinking about the feel of Gerard's hands pressing down on him, completely overpowering and it shouldn't feel as good as it does. Gerard's hard-on presses against Leo's stomach so Leo wriggles a little until their hips are matched and grinds up against him, rubbing their dicks together.
Gerard makes a sound of surprise in the back of his throat, and then matches Leo's rhythm, bracing his hands on either side of Leo's head. He's too far away to kiss so Leo grabs onto his hips and keeps him close, rubbing against him until his whole body goes tight and he shudders out his orgasm. Gerard is two seconds behind and when it's over he doesn't seem to mind that they've made a mess of their shorts, he just leans down and kisses Leo again until their lips are swollen and bruised.
Gerard collapses besides him and tucks his face into Leo's neck, exhausted. The room is completely silent except for the sound of their breathing, slowing down. They startle when the front door slams shut and Leo's father calls out for him.
"Shit, shit, shit," Gerard mutters, scrambling to his feet. He peels off his shorts and boxers and they clean up in Leo's bathroom together, fumbling for clean clothes.
"Eh, I guess I'll be walking around like this for the next two hours," Gerard says, stepping into his practice shorts.
Leo laughs, pulling his shirt over his head. He feels a little triumphant, like he's left his mark on Gerard, just enough so that people will wonder but nobody would ever figure it out.
The television sparks on in the living room. "Right," Gerard says. "Call me Sunday, let me know how it goes."
"Alright." Leo opens the door as Gerard grabs his gear. He hesitates at the door, like he might go for the usual head pat but Leo tugs him down by his sleeve, standing on tip-toe to meet him halfway, and pecks a kiss on his cheek.
**
They give him the all clear on Sunday. He's healing well and with the right protective gear he can play in next weeks' match. He calls Alejandro as soon as he steps outside the doctor's office. He's silent on the other end for a moment before speaking. "Puyol used a face mask a few weeks back," he says. "If you agree to wear it I'll let you play."
Leo swears up and down that he'll wear it, that he's dying to play. When Alejandro agrees, Leo shouts his joy, jumping in the hospital parking lot. His dad laughs and speaks with the coach for a while. Leo's so happy he barely notices the drive home.
**
That night the first team plays against Real Sociedad and they win 2-1.
It feels like a good omen.
**
On Monday they let him train alone in the gym and away from the others on the training field. He's happy enough to be back playing that he doesn't mind having to do it alone. He doesn't complain when they make him run on the treadmill indoors - as it is he gets to see a couple of first team players up close - because afterwards he gets a ball at his feet under the bright summer sun and it's just like it was before.
**
He doesn't get to see much of Gerard that week. Thursday night they have dinner at Cesc's house and take turns playing FIFA. Gerard loses and hands the controller to Leo, pulling him closer on the sofa, petting his hair. Leo pulls his knees up and leans against Gerard's side.
"You two are getting handsy," Cesc observes from his position on the living room floor.
"His hair is just really soft," Gerard deadpans.
Cesc snorts. "Whatever," he says, turning back to the screen where Leo is busy manipulating a goal.
"That was a fucking sneak attack!" Cesc yelps. Gerard tugs at Leo's hair and in an undertone says, "Good boy."
Leo doesn't stop smiling for a good five minutes.
**
They don't get a moment alone together again until Saturday night. Friday is spent with Leo's dad, watching Oliver y Benji re-runs while Jorge tries to call family in Argentina. He sits under the light of a table lamb, phone in hand while Leo reads out the calling card number. "What was that last one? Nine?" Jorge says, reading glasses slipping down his nose.
"Here, let me," Gerard says. Onscreen, Oliver grits his way through the final. His shoulder is injured but he plays anyways and Leo thinks, just like me. Except Oliver has an enemy which Leo could do without. He doesn't think he could ever do anything anyway that would make someone hate him.
"It's ringing," Gerard whispers, handing Leo the phone. The line crackles and beeps, beeps, beeps until he hears his mother pick up, her voice reaching him through thousands of miles, tinny and small in Leo's ear.
**
Saturday night they're in Leo's room. His dad's been asleep for hours and the two of them had stayed up, reading through Cesc's football magazines with a flashlight under the bedcovers and pretending they didn't want to get their hands on each other. Finally, Leo's too exhausted to carry on. He rests on his good side and holds his breath, waits. Gerard looks at him blankly for a long moment. Leo wills himself to relax, not to fidget. He tilts his head back, exposing his throat.
The light clicks off. In the sudden dark Leo can't quite make out Gerard's expression. He crawls over Leo and hovers until he pulls him down, welcoming the weight and warmth of him. Gerard kisses him. Leo's not sure what to do but he thinks Gerard must have done this before and he trusts him to take the lead. Gerard licks inside Leo's mouth slowly and it feels good, better than Leo had thought. He slides a hand under Leo's shirt, palming the flat of his stomach and Leo makes noises he's never heard before.
His heart rate picks up like he's running on the field and he shivers at Gerard's touch, a million thoughts flying through his head. He wants this, desperately. Even though he's not sure exactly what this is he feels like he's been waiting for it forever. "Leo, Leo is this okay?" Gerard asks. His hand drifts lower, until his fingers dip just below the waistband of Leo's shorts and Leo bucks up, whimpers, already half-hard. "Yeah," Leo says and nods, biting down on his lower lip.
He lifts his hips and pulls his shorts down and Gerard palms Leo's cock through the fabric of his boxers, stroking him until he's filled out completely and leaking. "Geri," Leo gasps, "please - "
Gerard looks up at Leo. "Can I use my mouth?"
Leo's flushes. He doesn't trust himself to speak again so he just nods and throws his head back on his pillow, too afraid to look down. Gerard slips Leo's boxers down until his cock is free and takes him into his mouth, licking up and down the length of him. Leo sucks in his breath and moans involuntarily. He glances down and sees the pink of Gerard's tongue dart out, lapping at the tip of his cock and it's too much - he tenses and comes, hips pushing up into Gerard's fist.
Gerard gets up and reaches for some tissues from the nearby nightstand, wiping at his hand. He hands a couple over to Leo.
"Wait. Come here, let me - " Leo says, reaching for Gerard. He's more than happy to return the favor, even though he's not sure at first if he's doing everything right. Gerard seems to enjoy it. He murmurs encouraging words to Leo the whole way through and when he's close he pulls away from Leo's mouth, stroking himself to completion. Leo's seen him naked before but this feels different, the smooth golden tone of Gerard's skin, the lean muscle of his chest and thighs; all new and beautiful in the secrecy of Leo's room.
When they're cleaned up and dressed for bed Gerard crawls into the bed besides Leo. He nuzzles against the side of Leo's neck, nudging him and Leo takes the clue, scooting to make space for Gerard in his narrow bed. He turns to his side, facing the wall, and Gerard curves his body around him. "I've never had someone in my bed before," Leo says, feeling ridiculous as soon as he says it.
Gerard laughs quietly, "Yeah? No one ever?" His breath is hot against the back of Leo's neck and he leans in to press his lips there. Leo shivers.
"No. Just you."
"Good," Gerard says, kissing him again. He smiles against Leo's skin and Leo wishes it could be just like this forever, just him and Gerard.
He's nodding off when Gerard speaks again. "Hey, Leo?"
"Yeah?" Leo says. He makes a feeble attempt to turn towards Gerard, but Gerard pulls him tighter against him.
"Promise me you'll be careful tomorrow?"
"Mmkay. I will."
"Promise?"
"I promise," Leo mumbles.
**
In the morning Leo worries that things will be awkward between them. Gerard is already in the bathroom when he wakes up. He waits outside the door as Gerard hums and brushes his teeth. At the last second he decides it might be too confrontational, so he runs back to his room and prepares his duffel bag for the game.
He's laying out his uniform on his bed when Gerard walks into the room. Leo keeps his eyes down at the socks in his hands. "Morning," he says, too afraid to see the expression on Gerard's face.
Gerard's arms circle around him, chin coming to rest on Leo's shoulder. "Good morning yourself," he says.
Leo's overcome with relief and he smiles so hard he has to bite down on his tongue.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Nothing. I'm just excited for the game."
Gerard laughs and straightens up, ruffling Leo's hair. "Me too," he says. "Come on, I think your Dad's making French toast."
**
As soon as he puts the mask on, Leo knows something's wrong. It's too big and loose, no matter how much he tries to tighten the strap. It keeps sliding down his nose and obscuring his vision. The whistle blows: it's too late to get a new one even if he asked for it. His stomach flips and he glances to the sidelines where Alejandro is motioning the players onward. He tries lifting it as he runs but it's a losing battle. He glances to Gerard, heart in his throat. Gerard frowns, the backline advances and they meet in the middle.
"What's wrong?" Gerard says.
"I can't see! It keeps sliding down!" Leo can hear the panic in his voice. Gerard's mouth presses into a thin, straight line, "Don't - " The ball is lobbed across field, an Espanyol defender intercepts it and Gerard is off before he can finish.
Two minutes pass. Leo grits his teeth, runs over to the bench. He rips the mask off and tosses it to Alejandro.
"Leo, what are you doing? I'll have to take you off, you can't play without this."
"Leave me on," Leo pleads. He's more afraid of not playing than getting injured again. He knows he can do this, he just has to get a fair chance, he just has to score once -
Alejandro opens his mouth to speak once, then again. He looks past Leo at the field, eyes calculating. "Ten minutes," he says. "Then I take you off."
He's in the middle of the pitch when he gets the first ball. It's a minute after his conversation with Alejandro, a minute after he tore off his mask and he scores. His heart thumps against his chest, and he turns to see Gerard running up to him, lifting him from the ground.
Within another four minutes Songo'o passes him the ball from the touchline, Leo scores again and he thinks yes, yes finally. He doesn't think it could get any better until Gerard scores right before the end of the first half. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, his name and then Gerard's on the scoreboard, his goals and then Gerard's, and Gerard's arm around him when the whistle blows.
**
The day they win the Copa passes swift as a dream. The summer days afterwards seem to linger; the heat slowing everything down. Most afternoons Gerard comes over to Leo's house and they skirmish until dusk falls.
"Do you think it'll be like this next season?" Leo asks. They're resting on the empty patch of grass tucked away near Leo's apartment building. Gerard leans back, his hands behind him. In the silence they hear the distant sound of a mother calling her children for dinner, the day unwinding.
"I don't know," Gerard says, "I hope so. I think we can do it even better than this season. We could win every season. Every season until we make the first team and then we'll be real champions. First class."
Leo turns his face down, his words tight in his chest like a vise. He can never be as sure as Gerard is of anything, but he wants to believe because it feels right: Gerard and him. It feels like it could be this way next season and the season after that. And all the empty summers in between will now be filled. He tries to hide his smile but Gerard catches it anyways, nudging Leo with his knee until he looks up. "That's my dream," Leo says finally and the words are quiet but they carry in the still dark.
"I know," Gerard responds, his face somber. "It's my dream too."
He stares at Leo until Leo grabs him by his shirt and pulls him close enough to kiss him breathless. Somewhere a moped speeds through an empty street. It's dark enough that no one sees two boys, tangled together in the dry summer grass.
**
a/n:
1. Alejandro is Alejandro Garcia Casañas (sometimes referred to as Alex Garcia), who once played on the famous Dream Team squad at Barcelona during the early 90s and who coached Messi, Pique, and Cesc (amongst others) through the 2002-2003 season.
2. Jorge is Jorge Messi, Lionel's father. Although initially the entire family including Lionel's mother, two brothers, and younger sister moved to Barcelona they found it difficult to adjust. By late summer 2001 Lionel's mother and siblings had returned to Argentina.
3. Oliver y Benji, also known as Captain Tsubasa, is a Japanese anime series which aired throughout the 90s and early 2000s popular amongst many football players including Pique and Xavi.
4. Pictured here: Messi, Pique, and Cesc before the Copa match on May 4, 2003.
5. My eternal gratitude to eileenyx for feedback, encouragement, and being an all around awesome person. Thanks also to san, greenpixiehair, and minny150 for being amazing and answering my ridiculously detailed questions. :*