Taking The Long Way Around - Chapter Three
October 1993
They kept practising, sometimes before, sometimes after training sessions. Xabi had spent the whole summer vacation with almost no football at all, so he said he felt a bit rusty. And although Stevie tried to convince him that he wasn’t actually rusty at all, the Scouser didn’t mind the extra practise. He had never seen a midfielder as young as Xabi play with such gracefulness in his manner, that wouldn’t probably have even suited anyone else other than the Spaniard, or such strength in his strike. The latter was proved when in one particularly memorable practise Xabi took them all by surprise with scoring a goal from his own half. After a long talk about how the Spaniard had done it in the changing rooms, his team mates decided that from now on the midfielder should be called “the Spanish miracle”.
Before Xabi even noticed it, it was time for his first game with his new team. The atmosphere in the changing room was thrilling for they were playing against Manchester United’s youth team and according to Steven it was a big deal. The Scouser had gone on and on about Liverpool’s and Manchester United’s rivalry the other day. Xabi obviously hadn’t been aware of this fact, since he hadn’t been raised in Liverpool. The way Steven and the other local boys kept talking about them actually amused him immensely.
Even if the Spaniard had been nervous before the game began, one couldn’t see it from the way he played throughout the game; his performance was as good as it had been at the training sessions. Steven had noticed earlier that the whole team had started relying on the Basque, depending on him and his spot-on performances on the pitch. And the Scouser had to admit that there was a reason for their actions; the Basque’s accurate, imaginative passes and crosses somehow managed to get the team more confident and bold.
After a long, exciting 94 minutes the Reds started celebrating their 3-1 victory over their rivalries and Xabi got to take part in their post-match party in the changing room for the first time. The other boys congratulated him on his long distance goal, but the smiling faces of his team mates seemed like nothing compared to the beaming face of his midfield partner. Due to the emotional state he was in, the captain even pulled the Spaniard into a friendly embrace and made his friend blush with both embarrassment and pleasure.
November 1993
The Spaniard soon noticed that he and Stevie had very little in common. There was actually only one thing he had been able to come up with and that was football. Whenever they (usually only Stevie, though, since he was the one that did most of the talking) ran out of topics they could always start chatting about Liverpool’s changes to win the Premier League or argue about which team was better, Liverpool or Sociedad.
Xabi was a bright boy, so it didn’t take him long to realise just how different he and Stevie were. It began with noticing that the Scouser seemed to sneak out for a cigarette with his other friends quite often. And whenever Xabi saw Stevie’s friends, he couldn’t help but think that he was nothing like them and wonder why Stevie hung out with him if he usually wasn’t friends with people like him.
There were so many differences between them that Xabi was unsure of what exactly had brought them together in the first place. Xabi was one of the smartest in his class and liked studying. Stevie wasn’t exactly dumb either, but he didn’t actually, or so it seemed to Xabi, know how to channel his abilities.
The Basque had always appreciated peaceful nights at home with his family, with his brothers, who he loved a lot, but Stevie seemed to prefer evenings spent at his friends’ houses and in the city centre.
There were many other things too; smoking and drinking were probably the most noticeable ones. Stevie was, Xabi noticed as the time past by, one of the most popular guys, one of the cool kids. Somehow he was charismatic enough to get along with most of the lads, have the attention of all the girls and even charm the teachers, all the while causing them trouble every day. Xabi, on the other hand, wasn’t one of the most social ones. Sure, he used to be a lot more talkative in Spain, where he could speak without thinking (about grammar) that much, and he was hoping that it could be like that in England too after a while. But he had never been a popular kid like Steven.
One other thing was revealed to him a little before his 15th birthday. Unlike Xabi, Stevie loved big parties.
“No, Steven, please. I want no big party,” Xabi stated when Stevie expressed his wishes to arrange a birthday celebration for his friend.
“Don’t be a daft, you deserve one. I promise you you’ll like it,” the Scouser tried to persuade him. There were actually over two weeks until the Spaniard’s birthday, but the kind of party Stevie had in mind would take a little bit of organizing before it could be held.
“Who wants to come to my party anyway? I know no-one,” Xabi remarked without even looking at his friend; the maths exercise he was working on occupied his mind at the moment.
“You might not know anyone, but I do. Believe me, when I set up a party, everyone wants to come.”
“Why does that not relieve me at all?” Xabi then snorted.
“You are too arrogant for your own good, Alonso. Now stop whining and let me take care of things...” Stevie gave Xabi a mischievous grin and the Basque had no other chance than to admit his defeat.
“You what?” Xabi exclaimed rather heatedly when Steven told him about his party plans a week later. Steven was a little taken aback with his friend’s cross look. During their friendship, which had begun a couple months earlier, Steven had never seen Xabi being angry. The Spaniard always managed to keep his calm, even when provoked, something which Steven envied, but knew he would probably never learn to do.
“I decided to throw the party the upcoming weekend. You mentioned that your family is flying to Spain at that time and I thought it would be better to hold the party at your house rather than at mine,” Stevie explained and when Xabi’s furious expression didn’t go away, he added. “Why are you so angry with me?”
“It didn’t occur to you that I might fly to Spain with them, did it?” Xabi snapped. “It’s good job that you told me now so there was no harm done.”
“Well, actually... I’ve kind of invited people already,” Steven said feeling a bit embarrassed. Why hadn’t he checked if the date was okay with the Spaniard? He had probably been too excited about the whole celebrating thing that he had simply forgotten to.
“Steven, how could you? You have to say to them that there is no party,” Xabi said and looked at his friend, now getting a little less irritated, but seeing that slightly hurt expression on his face didn’t make it any easier for Stevie.
“Xabi, you can’t ask me to do that. People are going to laugh at me.” Stevie knew that the minds of teenagers usually worked with no logic whatsoever and one incident like this could ruin his reputation for good. That was something he couldn’t afford, even if it was something really ridiculous.
“Well, then you will have to throw the party without me.”
“Aww, Xabi, can’t you cancel the trip? I mean, can’t your family go without you?”
“And what am I going to say to them and to my friends that are waiting for me in Spain? That this idiotic friend of mine insisted on throwing me a party I did not want in the first place and then somehow managed to be stupid enough to throw it the same day I was supposed to see them?” The volume of Xabi’s voice was rising in time with his irritation level. The Basque didn’t actually know what got him so wound up. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have cancelled the trip. His parents wouldn’t be happy with him cancelling, but it wasn’t impossible. Maybe it was the fact Stevie automatically assumed that he would be at his service all the time or maybe it was his own insecurity. Whatever it was, he knew that this probably wasn’t the best way to treat his friends, but knowing that didn’t stop him from continuing.
“That was a little mean, don’t you think?” Stevie asked quietly and indeed, when Xabi lifted his head to look at his friend’s face, he could see hurt, pure, genuine hurt there.
“Stevie, I can’t cancel the trip. I’ve been waiting to get back to Spain for weeks now.”
“Please, Xabi, can’t you go there some another time? It would be shame to miss your birthday party.”
“How many times do I have to repeat this? I can’t cancel the trip. But I guess that is too complicated for your thick brain to understand.” Stevie’s begging, that to him seemed to just go on and on, made him feel more annoyed than ever, which immediately reflected on Stevie.
“Fine, go to your fucking Spain, meet your fucking friends and celebrate your fucking birthday, I couldn’t care less,” Steven raged at the Spaniard as he got up from where he was seated opposite to his red-faced friend, who yelled right back at the Scouser.
“Just fuck off, Gerrard!”
It felt strange, functioning in every day life without Steven. Xabi saw him every day in school, of course he did. They probably looked like a couple of fools, sitting a few tables away from each other in the canteen, glancing at each other occasionally, when they thought the other wasn’t looking. While Steven hung out with his friends, Xabi spent his days mostly alone, at times with Danny or someone else from the football team.
It was hard to concentrate on studying English without the Scouser. The Spaniard got frustrated without his walking, strongly swearing dictionary. Looking every other word up annoyed him greatly.
It wasn’t exactly easy for Steven either. The Scouser had got used to Xabi helping him out with his maths exercises and now that there was no heavily accented boy to help him, Stevie felt like he was more lost than ever.
At the football practices they tried to avoid each other as much as they could. Both boys were too stubborn, too proud to apologise or even talk about what happened with each other. Instead of being Xabi’s partner like usual, Steven paired up with Sami and the Spaniard joined together with Daniel. Xabi had hoped for the freckled Dane and his other team mates not to notice any change between him and Steven, but apparently there was no chance of that happening, at least not with the discerning defender.
“What’s up with you and Steven?” Daniel asked the midfielder as they did their stretches after one particularly wearing practice.
“Nothing. Why you ask?” The Basque tried all though he knew that if the defender was sharp enough to notice there was something wrong with him and Stevie, he would notice that what he just said wasn’t exactly true.
“Because it seems not like nothing to me. You two were like glued to each other before, so something must have happened. Tell me.” Daniel’s voice was quiet, soft even, but somewhere there was a hint of demand that Xabi couldn’t ignore.
“You know the party Stevie wanted to have, sí? Of course you know it, Steven invited you too. It is the same time I am flying to Spain. And we had a fight about that. It is stupid, really,” he explained, not wanting to look at the defender, afraid that the other boy would think he was funny and laugh at him.
“You fought over that?” Daniel asked, puzzled.
“I know I shouldn’t have said anything,” Xabi said as he straightened up and started walking towards the changing room.
“No, no, look. It just seems a bit... silly, you know, fighting over such a little thing,” Daniel said, smiling slightly at his friend, all the while walking alongside the grumpy Basque.
“It is silly. What do I do now?”
“Are you really asking me for relationship advice?” the Dane laughed.
“Relationship? I am not in a relationship with Steven.” Xabi’s confused look made Daniel laugh even louder.
“It was a joke, Xabi. And all that I know is that you should talk to Stevie.”
When the Spaniard came back from school a couple of days later, on the afternoon of his birthday, he was surprised to see Steven sitting on the steps in front of his house.
“Hiya, Xabi,” the Scouser said and a little, shy smile was playing on his lips. “And happy birthday.” He added as he offered him something that looked a lot like a gift wrapped shoebox. The younger boy hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should accept this peace offering or not, but when his friend assured that opening it would do him no harm, he did take the box from the Scouser. Stevie decided to talk before the other midfielder had a chance to unwrap it.
“I’m sorry, Xabi. It was wrong of me to ask you to stay here when I know how much you’ve missed Spain. I just wanted to let you know this, because... because I don’t want you to be mad at me while you’re on your holiday. Would spoil your good mood and everything.” Xabi didn’t say anything; he just sat down beside his friend and looked at the package in his hands, smiling when he noticed the childish, shaky way it had been wrapped. After a moment his curiosity took the better of him and he had no choice but to open it.
“I can’t take these, Stevie, they must cost a... how do you say it again?” He tried convincing Steven to take the brand new football boots back. Although the tone of his voice was somewhat believable, the Scouser didn’t miss the twinkle that had appeared in his friend’s brown eyes, it was unquestionable as where that twinkle had came from; the boy couldn’t rip his eyes away from the shiny, black boots that had three white stripes on them.
“A fortune. But don’t even try and give them back to me, you’ve been grousing about your old ones anyway, so would you just stop whining and try them on already!”
“Gracias, Steven, they are perfect. How did you know to buy the right size?” Xabi asked as he had put the brand new boots on and still couldn’t take his eyes off them.
“I took a look at your old ones in the changing room a couple of weeks ago.” The Spaniard lifted his gaze from his present and glanced at the Scouser with surprised, but all the while amused, look.
“That’s a bit sneaky.”
“Well, I am a sneaky guy. So, what are you going to do when you get to Spain? You’re leaving tomorrow, right?” The Englishman looked at the other midfielder, not angry, not even sad, just curious and glad everything was okay with them again.
“No, I am not.” Xabi claimed, smiling, and met Stevie’s gaze.
“You’re not? I thought you said so earlier.” Steven tugged the hem of his shirt nervously without even noticing it himself.
“Sí, I did. But I talked with my mamá and papá and we agreed that I could stay here. They are a little disappointed, but they say they understand,” Xabi stated, his face glowing with delight.
“Oh, shit. You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, of course I am not. Why you ask?” Most of the glow was gone.
“Well, I cancelled the party, didn’t I?”
“But you said you would hold it anyway, even without me. You said before that is impossible for you to cancel it, so why cancel it now?” The glow really was definitely gone now and there was something like annoyance on Xabi’s face instead of it.
“Oh bugger, I only told you that so you’d stay. But no worries, I think I can still arrange it.” Stevie grinned apologetically and the glow was back.
Xabi had no doubt of Steven’s ability to arrange a party in just two days, but saying that the huge celebration with its large amount of people didn’t surprise him at all would’ve been a lie. He had no idea how the Scouser had been able to get all these people there in a couple of days notice. Now that he scanned the crowded living room, it was very hard for him to see any familiar faces anywhere. There were a lot of people dancing, drinking and laughing, but Xabi couldn’t recognize almost any of them.
He had seen some of the footballers in the spacious kitchen earlier, though. He had been a little stunned to see Sami there too, but had welcomed him nevertheless. The Spaniard didn’t get any response from the Finn. No congratulations, nothing. After receiving a couple of meaningful, not so friendly looks from his team mate, he left the kitchen and decided to wander around the house instead.
It was only after his tour around his home that Xabi realised just how much people there were ‘celebrating’ his birthday. Most of them didn’t probably even know that it was his birthday, Danny and couple of his classmates being the only ones congratulating him. The only rooms that weren’t as crowded as the others were the guest bathroom and his bedroom, probably because they were located quite far away from all the drinks. The cacophony of loud music and all the people talking and laughing produced made him feel slightly dizzy.
The Spaniard couldn’t help but think that all the promises of great birthday celebrations Steven had made earlier seemed empty and hollow now. Where was he anyway? Xabi hadn’t seen his midfielder partner in ages. The Basque made his way through the packed hallway and to the living room full of dancing people enjoying themselves. He watched them having fun, envying them for the joy that was written all over their faces. This was after all supposed to be his party, his night. And there he was, sitting on one of the big sofas, sulking all by himself.
After a while of observing the dancing people in front of him, hypnotized and glassy-eyed, he got up and decided to go back to his room. If he had felt bad earlier, it was nothing compared to this feeling of emptiness he felt now. It was like being a guest in his own house, not knowing anyone, being able to communicate with no-one. He damned himself for letting his English friend convince him and throw him this party; he couldn’t think of time when he would’ve felt as bad as he did now, spending time among all these people, while still feeling lonelier than ever.
Once he had climbed the stairs and made his way to his bedroom, he finally got the answer for his earlier question about Steven. Because there he was, the Spaniard saw as he opened the door to his room, on top of some unrecognisable girl on Xabi’s bed. The Basque knew fully well that the right thing to do would’ve been leaving immediately, but he just couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight in front of him. The half naked bodies tangled together, feminine hands roaming on the Scouser’s bare back and his friend’s mouth on the girls exposed neck. He backed out of the room, silently, not wanting either one of them to hear him, not wanting to face the confrontation that would follow if they did.
Xabi didn’t know where he had got that bottle of cider from. All he knew was that it definitely wasn’t making him feel better as he had first thought. But still it fascinated him greatly. As did the next one. And the next one. He was playing with the label of the bottle and watching the other people dancing before him as one of the girls he had seen earlier approached him.
“Hi there, gorgeous,” the girl greeted him, catching him off guard.
“Hi,” he said, not as shyly as he would’ve without the alcohol in his system, but still quietly and a bit distraughtly.
“You’re Xabi, right? That Spanish boy that plays for Liverpool?” she asked, smiling and Xabi couldn’t help but notice how very pretty she was. She had beautiful hazel eyes and long, brown hair to match them. But somewhere deep inside himself Xabi knew that she was the kind of girl his parents wouldn’t approve of. Maybe it was the way she was dressed that made him think that, perhaps even the way she spoke, or the way she leaned closer and closer to him, giving him a better view of her cleavage.
“Sí, I’m Xabier,” he finally managed as he lifted his gaze up from where it had rested for a moment too long and saw the girl grinning widely.
“My name is Laura, I’m a friend of Steven’s.” She introduced herself and Xabi couldn’t help but wonder what kind of friend of Stevie’s she exactly was. The troubled look he had didn’t go unnoticed by the brunette.
“What’s wrong, baby? You shouldn’t mope like that, not when you’re the birthday boy!” she said, all the while smiling, and she placed her hand on Xabi’s thigh, a little bit closer to his crotch than he found comfortable.
The Basque found himself thinking, which was a miracle itself after the amount of drinks he had already had, whether the Scouser had already finished his business with his ‘friend’ upstairs. After all, they had spent quite a while there by now. There had been quite many things happening since seeing his friend. Sami, for some reason that had remained unknown for Xabi, had offered him a bottle of some Finnish alcohol that would, according to the tall Finn, ‘make him feel a lot better’. It wasn’t entirely false; he did feel a whole lot brighter than earlier, although he started to have a little spinning feeling in his head. After the Finn was gone again, sipping the clear liquor, feeling Laura’s not so innocent touches on his body and hearing the soft words purred into his ear lead to the inevitable.
When Steven finally made his way downstairs the state his Spanish friend was in made the Scouser’s heart skip a beat or two.
They kept practising, sometimes before, sometimes after training sessions. Xabi had spent the whole summer vacation with almost no football at all, so he said he felt a bit rusty. And although Stevie tried to convince him that he wasn’t actually rusty at all, the Scouser didn’t mind the extra practise. He had never seen a midfielder as young as Xabi play with such gracefulness in his manner, that wouldn’t probably have even suited anyone else other than the Spaniard, or such strength in his strike. The latter was proved when in one particularly memorable practise Xabi took them all by surprise with scoring a goal from his own half. After a long talk about how the Spaniard had done it in the changing rooms, his team mates decided that from now on the midfielder should be called “the Spanish miracle”.
Before Xabi even noticed it, it was time for his first game with his new team. The atmosphere in the changing room was thrilling for they were playing against Manchester United’s youth team and according to Steven it was a big deal. The Scouser had gone on and on about Liverpool’s and Manchester United’s rivalry the other day. Xabi obviously hadn’t been aware of this fact, since he hadn’t been raised in Liverpool. The way Steven and the other local boys kept talking about them actually amused him immensely.
Even if the Spaniard had been nervous before the game began, one couldn’t see it from the way he played throughout the game; his performance was as good as it had been at the training sessions. Steven had noticed earlier that the whole team had started relying on the Basque, depending on him and his spot-on performances on the pitch. And the Scouser had to admit that there was a reason for their actions; the Basque’s accurate, imaginative passes and crosses somehow managed to get the team more confident and bold.
After a long, exciting 94 minutes the Reds started celebrating their 3-1 victory over their rivalries and Xabi got to take part in their post-match party in the changing room for the first time. The other boys congratulated him on his long distance goal, but the smiling faces of his team mates seemed like nothing compared to the beaming face of his midfield partner. Due to the emotional state he was in, the captain even pulled the Spaniard into a friendly embrace and made his friend blush with both embarrassment and pleasure.
November 1993
The Spaniard soon noticed that he and Stevie had very little in common. There was actually only one thing he had been able to come up with and that was football. Whenever they (usually only Stevie, though, since he was the one that did most of the talking) ran out of topics they could always start chatting about Liverpool’s changes to win the Premier League or argue about which team was better, Liverpool or Sociedad.
Xabi was a bright boy, so it didn’t take him long to realise just how different he and Stevie were. It began with noticing that the Scouser seemed to sneak out for a cigarette with his other friends quite often. And whenever Xabi saw Stevie’s friends, he couldn’t help but think that he was nothing like them and wonder why Stevie hung out with him if he usually wasn’t friends with people like him.
There were so many differences between them that Xabi was unsure of what exactly had brought them together in the first place. Xabi was one of the smartest in his class and liked studying. Stevie wasn’t exactly dumb either, but he didn’t actually, or so it seemed to Xabi, know how to channel his abilities.
The Basque had always appreciated peaceful nights at home with his family, with his brothers, who he loved a lot, but Stevie seemed to prefer evenings spent at his friends’ houses and in the city centre.
There were many other things too; smoking and drinking were probably the most noticeable ones. Stevie was, Xabi noticed as the time past by, one of the most popular guys, one of the cool kids. Somehow he was charismatic enough to get along with most of the lads, have the attention of all the girls and even charm the teachers, all the while causing them trouble every day. Xabi, on the other hand, wasn’t one of the most social ones. Sure, he used to be a lot more talkative in Spain, where he could speak without thinking (about grammar) that much, and he was hoping that it could be like that in England too after a while. But he had never been a popular kid like Steven.
One other thing was revealed to him a little before his 15th birthday. Unlike Xabi, Stevie loved big parties.
“No, Steven, please. I want no big party,” Xabi stated when Stevie expressed his wishes to arrange a birthday celebration for his friend.
“Don’t be a daft, you deserve one. I promise you you’ll like it,” the Scouser tried to persuade him. There were actually over two weeks until the Spaniard’s birthday, but the kind of party Stevie had in mind would take a little bit of organizing before it could be held.
“Who wants to come to my party anyway? I know no-one,” Xabi remarked without even looking at his friend; the maths exercise he was working on occupied his mind at the moment.
“You might not know anyone, but I do. Believe me, when I set up a party, everyone wants to come.”
“Why does that not relieve me at all?” Xabi then snorted.
“You are too arrogant for your own good, Alonso. Now stop whining and let me take care of things...” Stevie gave Xabi a mischievous grin and the Basque had no other chance than to admit his defeat.
“You what?” Xabi exclaimed rather heatedly when Steven told him about his party plans a week later. Steven was a little taken aback with his friend’s cross look. During their friendship, which had begun a couple months earlier, Steven had never seen Xabi being angry. The Spaniard always managed to keep his calm, even when provoked, something which Steven envied, but knew he would probably never learn to do.
“I decided to throw the party the upcoming weekend. You mentioned that your family is flying to Spain at that time and I thought it would be better to hold the party at your house rather than at mine,” Stevie explained and when Xabi’s furious expression didn’t go away, he added. “Why are you so angry with me?”
“It didn’t occur to you that I might fly to Spain with them, did it?” Xabi snapped. “It’s good job that you told me now so there was no harm done.”
“Well, actually... I’ve kind of invited people already,” Steven said feeling a bit embarrassed. Why hadn’t he checked if the date was okay with the Spaniard? He had probably been too excited about the whole celebrating thing that he had simply forgotten to.
“Steven, how could you? You have to say to them that there is no party,” Xabi said and looked at his friend, now getting a little less irritated, but seeing that slightly hurt expression on his face didn’t make it any easier for Stevie.
“Xabi, you can’t ask me to do that. People are going to laugh at me.” Stevie knew that the minds of teenagers usually worked with no logic whatsoever and one incident like this could ruin his reputation for good. That was something he couldn’t afford, even if it was something really ridiculous.
“Well, then you will have to throw the party without me.”
“Aww, Xabi, can’t you cancel the trip? I mean, can’t your family go without you?”
“And what am I going to say to them and to my friends that are waiting for me in Spain? That this idiotic friend of mine insisted on throwing me a party I did not want in the first place and then somehow managed to be stupid enough to throw it the same day I was supposed to see them?” The volume of Xabi’s voice was rising in time with his irritation level. The Basque didn’t actually know what got him so wound up. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have cancelled the trip. His parents wouldn’t be happy with him cancelling, but it wasn’t impossible. Maybe it was the fact Stevie automatically assumed that he would be at his service all the time or maybe it was his own insecurity. Whatever it was, he knew that this probably wasn’t the best way to treat his friends, but knowing that didn’t stop him from continuing.
“That was a little mean, don’t you think?” Stevie asked quietly and indeed, when Xabi lifted his head to look at his friend’s face, he could see hurt, pure, genuine hurt there.
“Stevie, I can’t cancel the trip. I’ve been waiting to get back to Spain for weeks now.”
“Please, Xabi, can’t you go there some another time? It would be shame to miss your birthday party.”
“How many times do I have to repeat this? I can’t cancel the trip. But I guess that is too complicated for your thick brain to understand.” Stevie’s begging, that to him seemed to just go on and on, made him feel more annoyed than ever, which immediately reflected on Stevie.
“Fine, go to your fucking Spain, meet your fucking friends and celebrate your fucking birthday, I couldn’t care less,” Steven raged at the Spaniard as he got up from where he was seated opposite to his red-faced friend, who yelled right back at the Scouser.
“Just fuck off, Gerrard!”
It felt strange, functioning in every day life without Steven. Xabi saw him every day in school, of course he did. They probably looked like a couple of fools, sitting a few tables away from each other in the canteen, glancing at each other occasionally, when they thought the other wasn’t looking. While Steven hung out with his friends, Xabi spent his days mostly alone, at times with Danny or someone else from the football team.
It was hard to concentrate on studying English without the Scouser. The Spaniard got frustrated without his walking, strongly swearing dictionary. Looking every other word up annoyed him greatly.
It wasn’t exactly easy for Steven either. The Scouser had got used to Xabi helping him out with his maths exercises and now that there was no heavily accented boy to help him, Stevie felt like he was more lost than ever.
At the football practices they tried to avoid each other as much as they could. Both boys were too stubborn, too proud to apologise or even talk about what happened with each other. Instead of being Xabi’s partner like usual, Steven paired up with Sami and the Spaniard joined together with Daniel. Xabi had hoped for the freckled Dane and his other team mates not to notice any change between him and Steven, but apparently there was no chance of that happening, at least not with the discerning defender.
“What’s up with you and Steven?” Daniel asked the midfielder as they did their stretches after one particularly wearing practice.
“Nothing. Why you ask?” The Basque tried all though he knew that if the defender was sharp enough to notice there was something wrong with him and Stevie, he would notice that what he just said wasn’t exactly true.
“Because it seems not like nothing to me. You two were like glued to each other before, so something must have happened. Tell me.” Daniel’s voice was quiet, soft even, but somewhere there was a hint of demand that Xabi couldn’t ignore.
“You know the party Stevie wanted to have, sí? Of course you know it, Steven invited you too. It is the same time I am flying to Spain. And we had a fight about that. It is stupid, really,” he explained, not wanting to look at the defender, afraid that the other boy would think he was funny and laugh at him.
“You fought over that?” Daniel asked, puzzled.
“I know I shouldn’t have said anything,” Xabi said as he straightened up and started walking towards the changing room.
“No, no, look. It just seems a bit... silly, you know, fighting over such a little thing,” Daniel said, smiling slightly at his friend, all the while walking alongside the grumpy Basque.
“It is silly. What do I do now?”
“Are you really asking me for relationship advice?” the Dane laughed.
“Relationship? I am not in a relationship with Steven.” Xabi’s confused look made Daniel laugh even louder.
“It was a joke, Xabi. And all that I know is that you should talk to Stevie.”
When the Spaniard came back from school a couple of days later, on the afternoon of his birthday, he was surprised to see Steven sitting on the steps in front of his house.
“Hiya, Xabi,” the Scouser said and a little, shy smile was playing on his lips. “And happy birthday.” He added as he offered him something that looked a lot like a gift wrapped shoebox. The younger boy hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should accept this peace offering or not, but when his friend assured that opening it would do him no harm, he did take the box from the Scouser. Stevie decided to talk before the other midfielder had a chance to unwrap it.
“I’m sorry, Xabi. It was wrong of me to ask you to stay here when I know how much you’ve missed Spain. I just wanted to let you know this, because... because I don’t want you to be mad at me while you’re on your holiday. Would spoil your good mood and everything.” Xabi didn’t say anything; he just sat down beside his friend and looked at the package in his hands, smiling when he noticed the childish, shaky way it had been wrapped. After a moment his curiosity took the better of him and he had no choice but to open it.
“I can’t take these, Stevie, they must cost a... how do you say it again?” He tried convincing Steven to take the brand new football boots back. Although the tone of his voice was somewhat believable, the Scouser didn’t miss the twinkle that had appeared in his friend’s brown eyes, it was unquestionable as where that twinkle had came from; the boy couldn’t rip his eyes away from the shiny, black boots that had three white stripes on them.
“A fortune. But don’t even try and give them back to me, you’ve been grousing about your old ones anyway, so would you just stop whining and try them on already!”
“Gracias, Steven, they are perfect. How did you know to buy the right size?” Xabi asked as he had put the brand new boots on and still couldn’t take his eyes off them.
“I took a look at your old ones in the changing room a couple of weeks ago.” The Spaniard lifted his gaze from his present and glanced at the Scouser with surprised, but all the while amused, look.
“That’s a bit sneaky.”
“Well, I am a sneaky guy. So, what are you going to do when you get to Spain? You’re leaving tomorrow, right?” The Englishman looked at the other midfielder, not angry, not even sad, just curious and glad everything was okay with them again.
“No, I am not.” Xabi claimed, smiling, and met Stevie’s gaze.
“You’re not? I thought you said so earlier.” Steven tugged the hem of his shirt nervously without even noticing it himself.
“Sí, I did. But I talked with my mamá and papá and we agreed that I could stay here. They are a little disappointed, but they say they understand,” Xabi stated, his face glowing with delight.
“Oh, shit. You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, of course I am not. Why you ask?” Most of the glow was gone.
“Well, I cancelled the party, didn’t I?”
“But you said you would hold it anyway, even without me. You said before that is impossible for you to cancel it, so why cancel it now?” The glow really was definitely gone now and there was something like annoyance on Xabi’s face instead of it.
“Oh bugger, I only told you that so you’d stay. But no worries, I think I can still arrange it.” Stevie grinned apologetically and the glow was back.
Xabi had no doubt of Steven’s ability to arrange a party in just two days, but saying that the huge celebration with its large amount of people didn’t surprise him at all would’ve been a lie. He had no idea how the Scouser had been able to get all these people there in a couple of days notice. Now that he scanned the crowded living room, it was very hard for him to see any familiar faces anywhere. There were a lot of people dancing, drinking and laughing, but Xabi couldn’t recognize almost any of them.
He had seen some of the footballers in the spacious kitchen earlier, though. He had been a little stunned to see Sami there too, but had welcomed him nevertheless. The Spaniard didn’t get any response from the Finn. No congratulations, nothing. After receiving a couple of meaningful, not so friendly looks from his team mate, he left the kitchen and decided to wander around the house instead.
It was only after his tour around his home that Xabi realised just how much people there were ‘celebrating’ his birthday. Most of them didn’t probably even know that it was his birthday, Danny and couple of his classmates being the only ones congratulating him. The only rooms that weren’t as crowded as the others were the guest bathroom and his bedroom, probably because they were located quite far away from all the drinks. The cacophony of loud music and all the people talking and laughing produced made him feel slightly dizzy.
The Spaniard couldn’t help but think that all the promises of great birthday celebrations Steven had made earlier seemed empty and hollow now. Where was he anyway? Xabi hadn’t seen his midfielder partner in ages. The Basque made his way through the packed hallway and to the living room full of dancing people enjoying themselves. He watched them having fun, envying them for the joy that was written all over their faces. This was after all supposed to be his party, his night. And there he was, sitting on one of the big sofas, sulking all by himself.
After a while of observing the dancing people in front of him, hypnotized and glassy-eyed, he got up and decided to go back to his room. If he had felt bad earlier, it was nothing compared to this feeling of emptiness he felt now. It was like being a guest in his own house, not knowing anyone, being able to communicate with no-one. He damned himself for letting his English friend convince him and throw him this party; he couldn’t think of time when he would’ve felt as bad as he did now, spending time among all these people, while still feeling lonelier than ever.
Once he had climbed the stairs and made his way to his bedroom, he finally got the answer for his earlier question about Steven. Because there he was, the Spaniard saw as he opened the door to his room, on top of some unrecognisable girl on Xabi’s bed. The Basque knew fully well that the right thing to do would’ve been leaving immediately, but he just couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight in front of him. The half naked bodies tangled together, feminine hands roaming on the Scouser’s bare back and his friend’s mouth on the girls exposed neck. He backed out of the room, silently, not wanting either one of them to hear him, not wanting to face the confrontation that would follow if they did.
Xabi didn’t know where he had got that bottle of cider from. All he knew was that it definitely wasn’t making him feel better as he had first thought. But still it fascinated him greatly. As did the next one. And the next one. He was playing with the label of the bottle and watching the other people dancing before him as one of the girls he had seen earlier approached him.
“Hi there, gorgeous,” the girl greeted him, catching him off guard.
“Hi,” he said, not as shyly as he would’ve without the alcohol in his system, but still quietly and a bit distraughtly.
“You’re Xabi, right? That Spanish boy that plays for Liverpool?” she asked, smiling and Xabi couldn’t help but notice how very pretty she was. She had beautiful hazel eyes and long, brown hair to match them. But somewhere deep inside himself Xabi knew that she was the kind of girl his parents wouldn’t approve of. Maybe it was the way she was dressed that made him think that, perhaps even the way she spoke, or the way she leaned closer and closer to him, giving him a better view of her cleavage.
“Sí, I’m Xabier,” he finally managed as he lifted his gaze up from where it had rested for a moment too long and saw the girl grinning widely.
“My name is Laura, I’m a friend of Steven’s.” She introduced herself and Xabi couldn’t help but wonder what kind of friend of Stevie’s she exactly was. The troubled look he had didn’t go unnoticed by the brunette.
“What’s wrong, baby? You shouldn’t mope like that, not when you’re the birthday boy!” she said, all the while smiling, and she placed her hand on Xabi’s thigh, a little bit closer to his crotch than he found comfortable.
The Basque found himself thinking, which was a miracle itself after the amount of drinks he had already had, whether the Scouser had already finished his business with his ‘friend’ upstairs. After all, they had spent quite a while there by now. There had been quite many things happening since seeing his friend. Sami, for some reason that had remained unknown for Xabi, had offered him a bottle of some Finnish alcohol that would, according to the tall Finn, ‘make him feel a lot better’. It wasn’t entirely false; he did feel a whole lot brighter than earlier, although he started to have a little spinning feeling in his head. After the Finn was gone again, sipping the clear liquor, feeling Laura’s not so innocent touches on his body and hearing the soft words purred into his ear lead to the inevitable.
When Steven finally made his way downstairs the state his Spanish friend was in made the Scouser’s heart skip a beat or two.