The Hollow
by alterego_lab
Fill me up again
Temporarily pacifying
The locker room is so silent that Lionel can feel the thick, stale air pressing down on his shoulders. The weight of the loss is getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute. Sitting down, with his eyes open, he sees nothing but a blur of sky-blue and white shirts and naked skin, not registering anything specific. The sensation of blindness, or rather of refusal, to see, to acknowledge his teammates' grief is not intentional. It's not like he thinks he's the only one suffering. But rather, it's his body's own way of protecting him from the deep-rooted shame he feels for letting them down again. Not partaking in their pain is both soothing and punishing at the same time.
He is both blind and deaf, as if under a bell jar. And inside, the hollow takes over, the great big void spreads, unavoidable and unstoppable. He feels disconnected and needy, and he accepts this state, aware he must suffer this castigation, but at the same time, he yearns for forgiveness. He knows what he's done, how he didn't rise to the occasion - again - and he must endure this state of mind.
He wants to be left alone, so he can be devoured by the hollow, carving space in his soul. This time, he will not run away from it, he will go all the way and submerge into the misery of having failed again. It is only right and it is just what he deserves.
Slump-headed, he is unaware of his teammates, not noticing them leaving, filing out one by one. If any of them have whispered something to him, encouragements or anything else, he has not heard. If any of them have patted him on the back or ruffled his hair, he has not felt it. Lionel is locked in a bubble and the outer world does not reach him. It's for the best, as this way he can allow the hollow to take over and do its ugly bidding.
A warm hand placed on his clammy shoulder suddenly electrifies Lionel. This time, he can feel it, the electric shock quality of that touch. He doesn't even have to look up to know who it is. His captain, friend and saviour. Javier.
Javier sits next to him, puts his arm around him and holds him. It's the simple touch, gentle and meaningful that make Lionel even more aware of the pit he's in. Javier holds him for the longest time and Lionel warms up, feeling the emptiness inside him retreating, clamouring to be filled. The need grows in him, almost physically. But he mustn't. He wills himself to remain limp. This time he needs the chastising, more than he needs the salvation.
But then, Javier reaches out to touch his cheek. And Lionel cannot evade that caress, his body and mind urge him to lean into it and receive absolution. Javier tilts Lionel's head and looks at him. The two lock gazes and Lionel knows his captain has seen inside his heart. He has seen it. His torment is mirrored in Javier's eyes and he knows Javier is not a man to allow another to go through such inner torture.
He knows what will happen next. He knows what Javier will do for him, how his captain will take away his sorrow and redeem him. They are not lovers, but Javier is the only one who knows how to soothe him, how to reach to him and pull him out.
He barely registers that Javier is undressing him, that soon they're skin on skin. He does perceive his raging hard-on and his need - more so than lust - reaches critical level. Quick, brutal moves that are yet incredibly gentle see him pressed against the wall, legs spread apart and ready to go.
"You don't have to feel this guilty, no man does."
Lionel does, but he is too weak to refuse the helping hand. And then again, Javier is a man of his word and so Javier fucks the guilt - and the hollow - out of his system. But this is not a mere de-stressing fuck, because Javier wouldn't do it for any other. It's Javier's deep knowledge of Lionel's need to flagellate himself that urges him to act as such. And Lionel - despite his inner conviction that he should be left to suffer - is happy that there is someone willing to help him out of it.
The heavy noise of flesh slapping against flesh soon fills the room and Lionel feels the evil mood leaving him, released along with the beads of come. Another time he has evaded the black hole ready to consume him, another time has Javier risen to the occasion. But there will come a time when Javier will no longer be around to save him.
And because of that, his peace of mind is only temporary while the damnation promises to be eternal.
Notes:
- action taking place in the wake of Argentina's exit from Copa America in 2011 at the hands of bitter rivals Uruguay following a penalty shoot-out lost 5-4;
- based on A Perfect Circle's The Hollow - lyrics here;
- overall, inspired by Messi's typically uninspired performances / results with the National Team.
- Beta'd by the ever helpful and wonderful calypso_63
Fill me up again
Temporarily pacifying
The locker room is so silent that Lionel can feel the thick, stale air pressing down on his shoulders. The weight of the loss is getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute. Sitting down, with his eyes open, he sees nothing but a blur of sky-blue and white shirts and naked skin, not registering anything specific. The sensation of blindness, or rather of refusal, to see, to acknowledge his teammates' grief is not intentional. It's not like he thinks he's the only one suffering. But rather, it's his body's own way of protecting him from the deep-rooted shame he feels for letting them down again. Not partaking in their pain is both soothing and punishing at the same time.
He is both blind and deaf, as if under a bell jar. And inside, the hollow takes over, the great big void spreads, unavoidable and unstoppable. He feels disconnected and needy, and he accepts this state, aware he must suffer this castigation, but at the same time, he yearns for forgiveness. He knows what he's done, how he didn't rise to the occasion - again - and he must endure this state of mind.
He wants to be left alone, so he can be devoured by the hollow, carving space in his soul. This time, he will not run away from it, he will go all the way and submerge into the misery of having failed again. It is only right and it is just what he deserves.
Slump-headed, he is unaware of his teammates, not noticing them leaving, filing out one by one. If any of them have whispered something to him, encouragements or anything else, he has not heard. If any of them have patted him on the back or ruffled his hair, he has not felt it. Lionel is locked in a bubble and the outer world does not reach him. It's for the best, as this way he can allow the hollow to take over and do its ugly bidding.
A warm hand placed on his clammy shoulder suddenly electrifies Lionel. This time, he can feel it, the electric shock quality of that touch. He doesn't even have to look up to know who it is. His captain, friend and saviour. Javier.
Javier sits next to him, puts his arm around him and holds him. It's the simple touch, gentle and meaningful that make Lionel even more aware of the pit he's in. Javier holds him for the longest time and Lionel warms up, feeling the emptiness inside him retreating, clamouring to be filled. The need grows in him, almost physically. But he mustn't. He wills himself to remain limp. This time he needs the chastising, more than he needs the salvation.
But then, Javier reaches out to touch his cheek. And Lionel cannot evade that caress, his body and mind urge him to lean into it and receive absolution. Javier tilts Lionel's head and looks at him. The two lock gazes and Lionel knows his captain has seen inside his heart. He has seen it. His torment is mirrored in Javier's eyes and he knows Javier is not a man to allow another to go through such inner torture.
He knows what will happen next. He knows what Javier will do for him, how his captain will take away his sorrow and redeem him. They are not lovers, but Javier is the only one who knows how to soothe him, how to reach to him and pull him out.
He barely registers that Javier is undressing him, that soon they're skin on skin. He does perceive his raging hard-on and his need - more so than lust - reaches critical level. Quick, brutal moves that are yet incredibly gentle see him pressed against the wall, legs spread apart and ready to go.
"You don't have to feel this guilty, no man does."
Lionel does, but he is too weak to refuse the helping hand. And then again, Javier is a man of his word and so Javier fucks the guilt - and the hollow - out of his system. But this is not a mere de-stressing fuck, because Javier wouldn't do it for any other. It's Javier's deep knowledge of Lionel's need to flagellate himself that urges him to act as such. And Lionel - despite his inner conviction that he should be left to suffer - is happy that there is someone willing to help him out of it.
The heavy noise of flesh slapping against flesh soon fills the room and Lionel feels the evil mood leaving him, released along with the beads of come. Another time he has evaded the black hole ready to consume him, another time has Javier risen to the occasion. But there will come a time when Javier will no longer be around to save him.
And because of that, his peace of mind is only temporary while the damnation promises to be eternal.
Notes:
- action taking place in the wake of Argentina's exit from Copa America in 2011 at the hands of bitter rivals Uruguay following a penalty shoot-out lost 5-4;
- based on A Perfect Circle's The Hollow - lyrics here;
- overall, inspired by Messi's typically uninspired performances / results with the National Team.
- Beta'd by the ever helpful and wonderful calypso_63