Divided & United - HITTER
Author: kitty69lover
Rating: PG
Category: angst!!
Characters: Pedro Rodriguez / Bojan Krkic
Length: hitter
Summary: sometimes hate is love
Disclaimer: initially only in my head; too much to contain it all, so it spilled on the webpage....
Authors Notes:originally posted as part of the footballverse pairing challenge.
Have you ever loved someone you were supposed to hate? It's so confusing. I was supposed to resent Pedro for well, taking my place in the team, but I really couldn't. He was just charming and was working his ass every game.
I wanted to hate him, but every time I looked at him, I saw the humbleness and I felt my heart flutter with a finer, superior feeling. I wanted to want to smack him and hold a grudge, but my heart was reaching out to him.
I didn't know what to do, it was a little overwhelming at times. How had I fallen for my biggest rival was a mystery to me.
***
All I wanted was that he didn't hate me. It was not my fault that he wasn't giving his best, while I was. Of course I was. It was not my fault that Mister preferred me to him, nor was it my fault that I took my chances and scored.
I didn't even want us to be friends, or more, I just wanted him to stop looking at me like that, with those engaging eyes of his, eyes that cut me deep and healed me tenderly at the same time. I couldn't aspire to his love, to win his heart, but I did wish he didn't resent me.
***
I wished I could open up, but he was weary of me, as if we were bitter rivals. I really wanted to reach out and tell him that what's in my heart overpowers what's in my mind, but he kept his distance from me. He averted his gaze when I looked at him, always. As if it hurt him.
Desperately, I wanted to turn this love into real hatred, then the tension between us would be real, and what everyone expected it to be. But I couldn't, as the more time passed, the more in love I became...
And I understood that I must carry on like this, as he would've never understood, he was so cautious around me, like I was a glass jar he could break if he talked to me. In a way, maybe it was like this, as the carefully crafted appearance of indifference would surely crack if he ever approached me...
And I didn't know if I was ready to let go of my mental hatred and embrace the love I felt, nor how would he react to my sudden confession...
***
I had to talk to him, to end this, to say it out loud. Why did it hurt so much, that out of everyone, only one boy didn't like me? Why was I seeking his approval, as if he were older, a veteran, as if his opinion meant the world to me?
Why was I so desperate to get him to like me? I was demolished by the thought that I had fallen for him, that his nonchalant, sulky attitude had made me fall. If I loved him, while he hated me and we kept competing for a starter spot, I was going to perish, unknown, unconsoled....
So, as I kept starting, scoring and securing my place, I knew it was becoming harder and harder to talk to him. I saw him down and drowning in an unexplained mediocrity, and I felt it was somehow my duty to talk to him. But how could I? Especially after the Valencia game? I would surely come across patronizing, boasting, rubbing it in. And I could never allow him to have an even worse opinion on me...
***
The game against Stuttgart was about to end, but I went in, this time wanting to prove my worth. It wouldn't matter if I scored, the game was won, the qualification was settled, but after my dismal performance the other day, I just needed to show everyone, and myself too, that I still had it in me.
The ball was passed to me and I saw it, the opportunity, so I rounded Lehmann and I scored! The soaring feeling filled my veins, my lungs expanded, I felt I could breathe again, alive after so many months...
And with the goal, my sullen spell broke, my mind cleared, and my heart opened up and I knew it was time. I saw Pedro close enough and I rushed to him, liberated of any negative thoughts, feeling only love and ready to express it.
***
The ball hit the back of the net and I exploded with joy, for Bojan had scored at last. That didn't change things too much, but I knew it meant a lot to him. And the unexplainable happened, as instead of running in Zlatan's arms, his server, he rushed to me.
He hugged me, and chest to chest, I felt his heart pounding so hard against his ribcage, and I felt something else. I was overwhelmed and then he whispered in my ear, a whisper louder than the roaring thunder of the cheering crowd,
“I love you Pedro.”
And his lips pressed against my neck, briefly, before he pulled himself away and ran to celebrate with the rest of the team, while I remained behind, legs like jello, bewildered and dumbfounded, feeling my heart thumping in my chest and the spot his divine lips had touched pulsating.
Fate had tricked me, but what a delicious trick!
Rating: PG
Category: angst!!
Characters: Pedro Rodriguez / Bojan Krkic
Length: hitter
Summary: sometimes hate is love
Disclaimer: initially only in my head; too much to contain it all, so it spilled on the webpage....
Authors Notes:originally posted as part of the footballverse pairing challenge.
Have you ever loved someone you were supposed to hate? It's so confusing. I was supposed to resent Pedro for well, taking my place in the team, but I really couldn't. He was just charming and was working his ass every game.
I wanted to hate him, but every time I looked at him, I saw the humbleness and I felt my heart flutter with a finer, superior feeling. I wanted to want to smack him and hold a grudge, but my heart was reaching out to him.
I didn't know what to do, it was a little overwhelming at times. How had I fallen for my biggest rival was a mystery to me.
***
All I wanted was that he didn't hate me. It was not my fault that he wasn't giving his best, while I was. Of course I was. It was not my fault that Mister preferred me to him, nor was it my fault that I took my chances and scored.
I didn't even want us to be friends, or more, I just wanted him to stop looking at me like that, with those engaging eyes of his, eyes that cut me deep and healed me tenderly at the same time. I couldn't aspire to his love, to win his heart, but I did wish he didn't resent me.
***
I wished I could open up, but he was weary of me, as if we were bitter rivals. I really wanted to reach out and tell him that what's in my heart overpowers what's in my mind, but he kept his distance from me. He averted his gaze when I looked at him, always. As if it hurt him.
Desperately, I wanted to turn this love into real hatred, then the tension between us would be real, and what everyone expected it to be. But I couldn't, as the more time passed, the more in love I became...
And I understood that I must carry on like this, as he would've never understood, he was so cautious around me, like I was a glass jar he could break if he talked to me. In a way, maybe it was like this, as the carefully crafted appearance of indifference would surely crack if he ever approached me...
And I didn't know if I was ready to let go of my mental hatred and embrace the love I felt, nor how would he react to my sudden confession...
***
I had to talk to him, to end this, to say it out loud. Why did it hurt so much, that out of everyone, only one boy didn't like me? Why was I seeking his approval, as if he were older, a veteran, as if his opinion meant the world to me?
Why was I so desperate to get him to like me? I was demolished by the thought that I had fallen for him, that his nonchalant, sulky attitude had made me fall. If I loved him, while he hated me and we kept competing for a starter spot, I was going to perish, unknown, unconsoled....
So, as I kept starting, scoring and securing my place, I knew it was becoming harder and harder to talk to him. I saw him down and drowning in an unexplained mediocrity, and I felt it was somehow my duty to talk to him. But how could I? Especially after the Valencia game? I would surely come across patronizing, boasting, rubbing it in. And I could never allow him to have an even worse opinion on me...
***
The game against Stuttgart was about to end, but I went in, this time wanting to prove my worth. It wouldn't matter if I scored, the game was won, the qualification was settled, but after my dismal performance the other day, I just needed to show everyone, and myself too, that I still had it in me.
The ball was passed to me and I saw it, the opportunity, so I rounded Lehmann and I scored! The soaring feeling filled my veins, my lungs expanded, I felt I could breathe again, alive after so many months...
And with the goal, my sullen spell broke, my mind cleared, and my heart opened up and I knew it was time. I saw Pedro close enough and I rushed to him, liberated of any negative thoughts, feeling only love and ready to express it.
***
The ball hit the back of the net and I exploded with joy, for Bojan had scored at last. That didn't change things too much, but I knew it meant a lot to him. And the unexplainable happened, as instead of running in Zlatan's arms, his server, he rushed to me.
He hugged me, and chest to chest, I felt his heart pounding so hard against his ribcage, and I felt something else. I was overwhelmed and then he whispered in my ear, a whisper louder than the roaring thunder of the cheering crowd,
“I love you Pedro.”
And his lips pressed against my neck, briefly, before he pulled himself away and ran to celebrate with the rest of the team, while I remained behind, legs like jello, bewildered and dumbfounded, feeling my heart thumping in my chest and the spot his divine lips had touched pulsating.
Fate had tricked me, but what a delicious trick!