Dangerous Liaisons - CHAPTER 10 / 33 *Behind the Maginot Line*
Author: 
kitcountssouls
Rating: R Category: Drama
Characters: Various current and former Real Madrid and Barcelona football players. mainly Xavi tho; do check out tags for each chapter Length: long story
Summary: she was a Madridista, he was a Cule. They struggled at first, only for their love to bloom. But when the secrets of her past resurface, will their passion save their relationship?
Disclaimer: all in my head, just my imagination. the photos i used for various characters and items are copyright of their authors. this fic contains product placement.
Authors Notes: inspired by Supertramp's Logical Song.
10. Behind the Maginot Line
It had been hard to ignore and not think of Xavi even without him trying to conquer me, looking me up almost every day, bringing me cute gifts and being overall extremely sweet in his approach. He was killing me and I couldn’t even tell him - or anyone - how hard it was for me to still resist, day after day, to still go to work and pretend I didn’t care, that I wasn’t interested, that I didn’t want him. I was hiding behind the wall of my fakeness, but with every day he waited for me outside, I knew this man could be trusted, that this was the man I could tell everything to, and he would understand it.
Yet, I had to resist, in the name of everything I held dear. Most of all, because I didn’t want to have to pretend all over again. He was too nice to have such a fucked up individual for a girlfriend, and I was sure that, under all the layers of Ms. Normality, my past and the cracks in my persona would appear. I didn’t want to burden him with this, he didn’t deserve it.
I was falling for him more and more each day, with every second of seeing him try to win me over, I would both feel swept off my feet and strengthened in my decision to never accept him. Because there was one thing for me to suffer and dream in silence, and another to bring him into my world of false pretenses. I bore my crown of thorns almost royally. I had been, indeed, taught how to simulate everything, how to pretend with grace, how to lie naturally.
The schooling at Alejandro Garcia had been absolutely marvelous, turning me - and anyone - from genuine and truthful - into a queen of lies and deceit. I hated that I was so successfully using the evil teachings of the Center, but in time of need, any helping hand would do. Every time he came to show me yet another token of his appreciation, every time he made me quiver on the inside and yearn for his touch, for his warm embrace, for saying yes, I would let all his words and actions pour over me and then, I’d say no. No. Another time no. Forever no. And I closed everything in my heart and bottled it inside and I’d take the subway home and tell myself everything would be OK.
That I had once again, succeeded in fighting him off, and that this entire ordeal would have to be rewarded somehow, sometimes. I didn’t take a moment to analyze further, to see for myself how hard it had become to utter that simple, two letter word. How I’d let myself get lost in his wonderful eyes for seconds, letting him hope, allowing myself to dream, before I brought myself to speak up the refusal. I refused to acknowledge that I had begun to eagerly wait for the moment I left for home and he’d be there, waiting for me, even if I would only reject him again.
I didn’t even find interesting to notice how sad I grew when, one day, he wasn't outside, waiting for me, how I felt my expectations had been in vain, how let down I felt. Nor did I stop for a second to understand the sheer exhilaration I felt the next day, when he did show up, dropping out of a helicopter, no less, like a superhero coming down to rescue me from my own demons…
I missed, or actually purposely ignored, all these signs of losing the battle. I didn’t seem to care or to realize that I was more and more morose each day, that suddenly carrying my cross, as I had so cleverly put it, was no longer bearable. I had lost touch with the reality around me, in my attempt to cast away the man I loved. The people at the club no longer looked evilly at me for my actions.
They had understood - probably, and well before I did - that this was more a battle with myself than a real resistance to wooing attempts, and had left me alone to face my demons. Only that the last few days, I had noticed a change in their demeanor, they seemed concerned. Even Sr. Ferran, who never got involved in Cafeteria gossip and never even seemed to be aware of my cat and mouse game with Xavi, asked me to join him in his office for a talk. He was worried, because the last few days I had certainly not been myself.
I was still working hard, that was not the issue, and no-one had complained about my behaviour. But he could feel there was something wrong with me, and he wanted to know if I wanted to take some days off.
“We want our employees to be happy.”
Happy. I had not experienced the full meaning of the word in ages…it almost felt like a trivial word, almost like he was suggesting something of sexual nature.
And the offer would’ve been tremendous, I would be away from *him* and his hot pursuit for a while. But first of all, work, hard, exhausting work, was the only thing that still kept me going. Otherwise, I would have cracked a long time before and possibly done something rash.
And second of all, I would be away from him….and as much as it pained me to see him, pleading, I needed it. It was like a daily dose of poison. It makes you nauseous in the beginning, but once you get used to it, it makes you stronger. So I refused his offer and told him I was fine, that everything was just fine. But this time, not even the tone of the lie was convincing.
The next days, the first thing I wanted to do when I saw him was to jump in his arms, and it was horrible to know that not only I couldn’t do that, but I would have to tell him - once again - to take a hike. I wanted to yell at him, to curse him for being so persistent, to humiliate him so maybe, he would get the clue and leave me alone. In normal circumstances, I could’ve easily done that. But I needed him to come. I needed him, and I needed to learn how to be strong by refusing him again and again, and for how long it took to make him lose interest.
I was never definitive in my refusal, and that was, not just because I didn’t want him to be sad, like he told me he would, but also because I couldn’t bare to not have him in my life, even if it was this contorted and dramatic way.
***
after Xavi’s 9th attempt
Like every other time, I felt completely drained on the way home, barely suppressing my tears. As always, I planned to get home, lock myself in my room and cry myself dry before dinner. And if possible, after today, I would even have dinner in my room, as I felt any kind of conversation with David would shatter me.
He had become a little too perceptive about the situation and I felt he was on the verge of butting in. But alas, the gods were not on my side, as David must’ve heard me walk up the stairs and greeted me at the door.
“Hello!” he said, in mocked cheerfulness.
“Hey.” I replied, putting on the usual front.
“So, how are you feeling today?”
“Same old, same old…” I ventured, taking off my shoes.
“I made lasagna. We have a good wine, and it’s time for Casablanca.” He said, looking me straight in the eye.
I let out a sound of desperation. Romantic sad movies were exactly what I needed right now!
“I’m not in the mood.” And I tried to dash past him and into my room.
“Look, you’ve not been in the mood for anything the last couple of weeks. I know you think I’m too absorbed to notice what’s going on with you, and that I shouldn’t care anyway, but I do notice and I do care. So, forget Casablanca, let’s just talk.”
“There is nothing to talk about.” I could feel tears brimming already and I wanted so badly to just be alone and cry.
“Look at yourself, you’re a mess and I think I know what is going on. Talk to me, please
” I could not stand another man pleading. Tears started rolling on my cheeks, in complete silence, as I looked at David.
“Why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you denying yourself the right to be happy? What kind of horrible thing are you punishing yourself for?” he asked. I let out a loud sigh. Again that word, thrown like slap in my face....if they only knew...
“Nothing. I did nothing. I just cannot let happen, because it won’t work.
” I whispered, too afraid to speak up and share my burden with him.
“You don’t know that. You’re just wallowing in self-pity, Cee. And let me tell you, being miserable for whatever self-imposed reason doesn’t make you better than other people. It just makes you miserable.*”
I couldn’t take it anymore. He was right, but he was so wrong! I ran into my room and shut the door, burying my head in my pillow to not hear him banging on the other side of the door. I had managed to run again, but I still had no idea that I was at the end of my rope.
* approx. quote from Dr. House ;)
kitcountssouls
Rating: R Category: Drama
Characters: Various current and former Real Madrid and Barcelona football players. mainly Xavi tho; do check out tags for each chapter Length: long story
Summary: she was a Madridista, he was a Cule. They struggled at first, only for their love to bloom. But when the secrets of her past resurface, will their passion save their relationship?
Disclaimer: all in my head, just my imagination. the photos i used for various characters and items are copyright of their authors. this fic contains product placement.
Authors Notes: inspired by Supertramp's Logical Song.
10. Behind the Maginot Line
It had been hard to ignore and not think of Xavi even without him trying to conquer me, looking me up almost every day, bringing me cute gifts and being overall extremely sweet in his approach. He was killing me and I couldn’t even tell him - or anyone - how hard it was for me to still resist, day after day, to still go to work and pretend I didn’t care, that I wasn’t interested, that I didn’t want him. I was hiding behind the wall of my fakeness, but with every day he waited for me outside, I knew this man could be trusted, that this was the man I could tell everything to, and he would understand it.
Yet, I had to resist, in the name of everything I held dear. Most of all, because I didn’t want to have to pretend all over again. He was too nice to have such a fucked up individual for a girlfriend, and I was sure that, under all the layers of Ms. Normality, my past and the cracks in my persona would appear. I didn’t want to burden him with this, he didn’t deserve it.
I was falling for him more and more each day, with every second of seeing him try to win me over, I would both feel swept off my feet and strengthened in my decision to never accept him. Because there was one thing for me to suffer and dream in silence, and another to bring him into my world of false pretenses. I bore my crown of thorns almost royally. I had been, indeed, taught how to simulate everything, how to pretend with grace, how to lie naturally.
The schooling at Alejandro Garcia had been absolutely marvelous, turning me - and anyone - from genuine and truthful - into a queen of lies and deceit. I hated that I was so successfully using the evil teachings of the Center, but in time of need, any helping hand would do. Every time he came to show me yet another token of his appreciation, every time he made me quiver on the inside and yearn for his touch, for his warm embrace, for saying yes, I would let all his words and actions pour over me and then, I’d say no. No. Another time no. Forever no. And I closed everything in my heart and bottled it inside and I’d take the subway home and tell myself everything would be OK.
That I had once again, succeeded in fighting him off, and that this entire ordeal would have to be rewarded somehow, sometimes. I didn’t take a moment to analyze further, to see for myself how hard it had become to utter that simple, two letter word. How I’d let myself get lost in his wonderful eyes for seconds, letting him hope, allowing myself to dream, before I brought myself to speak up the refusal. I refused to acknowledge that I had begun to eagerly wait for the moment I left for home and he’d be there, waiting for me, even if I would only reject him again.
I didn’t even find interesting to notice how sad I grew when, one day, he wasn't outside, waiting for me, how I felt my expectations had been in vain, how let down I felt. Nor did I stop for a second to understand the sheer exhilaration I felt the next day, when he did show up, dropping out of a helicopter, no less, like a superhero coming down to rescue me from my own demons…
I missed, or actually purposely ignored, all these signs of losing the battle. I didn’t seem to care or to realize that I was more and more morose each day, that suddenly carrying my cross, as I had so cleverly put it, was no longer bearable. I had lost touch with the reality around me, in my attempt to cast away the man I loved. The people at the club no longer looked evilly at me for my actions.
They had understood - probably, and well before I did - that this was more a battle with myself than a real resistance to wooing attempts, and had left me alone to face my demons. Only that the last few days, I had noticed a change in their demeanor, they seemed concerned. Even Sr. Ferran, who never got involved in Cafeteria gossip and never even seemed to be aware of my cat and mouse game with Xavi, asked me to join him in his office for a talk. He was worried, because the last few days I had certainly not been myself.
I was still working hard, that was not the issue, and no-one had complained about my behaviour. But he could feel there was something wrong with me, and he wanted to know if I wanted to take some days off.
“We want our employees to be happy.”
Happy. I had not experienced the full meaning of the word in ages…it almost felt like a trivial word, almost like he was suggesting something of sexual nature.
And the offer would’ve been tremendous, I would be away from *him* and his hot pursuit for a while. But first of all, work, hard, exhausting work, was the only thing that still kept me going. Otherwise, I would have cracked a long time before and possibly done something rash.
And second of all, I would be away from him….and as much as it pained me to see him, pleading, I needed it. It was like a daily dose of poison. It makes you nauseous in the beginning, but once you get used to it, it makes you stronger. So I refused his offer and told him I was fine, that everything was just fine. But this time, not even the tone of the lie was convincing.
The next days, the first thing I wanted to do when I saw him was to jump in his arms, and it was horrible to know that not only I couldn’t do that, but I would have to tell him - once again - to take a hike. I wanted to yell at him, to curse him for being so persistent, to humiliate him so maybe, he would get the clue and leave me alone. In normal circumstances, I could’ve easily done that. But I needed him to come. I needed him, and I needed to learn how to be strong by refusing him again and again, and for how long it took to make him lose interest.
I was never definitive in my refusal, and that was, not just because I didn’t want him to be sad, like he told me he would, but also because I couldn’t bare to not have him in my life, even if it was this contorted and dramatic way.
***
after Xavi’s 9th attempt
Like every other time, I felt completely drained on the way home, barely suppressing my tears. As always, I planned to get home, lock myself in my room and cry myself dry before dinner. And if possible, after today, I would even have dinner in my room, as I felt any kind of conversation with David would shatter me.
He had become a little too perceptive about the situation and I felt he was on the verge of butting in. But alas, the gods were not on my side, as David must’ve heard me walk up the stairs and greeted me at the door.
“Hello!” he said, in mocked cheerfulness.
“Hey.” I replied, putting on the usual front.
“So, how are you feeling today?”
“Same old, same old…” I ventured, taking off my shoes.
“I made lasagna. We have a good wine, and it’s time for Casablanca.” He said, looking me straight in the eye.
I let out a sound of desperation. Romantic sad movies were exactly what I needed right now!
“I’m not in the mood.” And I tried to dash past him and into my room.
“Look, you’ve not been in the mood for anything the last couple of weeks. I know you think I’m too absorbed to notice what’s going on with you, and that I shouldn’t care anyway, but I do notice and I do care. So, forget Casablanca, let’s just talk.”
“There is nothing to talk about.” I could feel tears brimming already and I wanted so badly to just be alone and cry.
“Look at yourself, you’re a mess and I think I know what is going on. Talk to me, please
” I could not stand another man pleading. Tears started rolling on my cheeks, in complete silence, as I looked at David.
“Why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you denying yourself the right to be happy? What kind of horrible thing are you punishing yourself for?” he asked. I let out a loud sigh. Again that word, thrown like slap in my face....if they only knew...
“Nothing. I did nothing. I just cannot let happen, because it won’t work.
” I whispered, too afraid to speak up and share my burden with him.
“You don’t know that. You’re just wallowing in self-pity, Cee. And let me tell you, being miserable for whatever self-imposed reason doesn’t make you better than other people. It just makes you miserable.*”
I couldn’t take it anymore. He was right, but he was so wrong! I ran into my room and shut the door, burying my head in my pillow to not hear him banging on the other side of the door. I had managed to run again, but I still had no idea that I was at the end of my rope.
* approx. quote from Dr. House ;)