Ficlet - Two different ways of approaching an argument - Kewllie
Title: Two different ways of approaching an argument 
Author: benitle
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Milan Baroš/Harry Kewell
Feedback: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: This story never happened. It’s complete fiction.
Summary: Milan and Harry have a fight
Archive: Beautiful Games, if accepted
Note: Many thanks to cerulean_eyes for the lovely and quick beta. Very helpful, my love!! *kicks stupid Mr Comma* This one was started quite a while back when Mills was still playing at Liverpool. I just had the inspiration to finally finish it the other day.
Fighting is never easy for them. Never has been, never will be.
What Harry hates so much about fighting with Milan is the fact that he always falls back into his native tongue when he reaches the point of running out of arguments. He will shout obscenities in Czech, swear, just let it all out. But then Harry doesn’t understand a word Milan is saying. It makes him feel stupid. But judging from Milan’s rage, it might be better this way.
What Milan hates so much about fighting with Harry is the fact that he always becomes quiet when he reaches the point of running out of arguments. Whilst Milan continues yelling, insulting, Harry simply doesn’t say anything. Harry looks at him like a hurt puppy but he doesn’t defend himself. And Milan doesn’t understand a word written in Harry’s eyes. This always makes Milan even angrier.
Two different ways of approaching an argument, one could say.
It doesn’t seem to be any different this time. Milan is shouting, Harry is listening. But then suddenly, it is different. Suddenly, Harry gets up from the chair he has been sitting on. Without a word, he grabs his jacket and car keys. Suddenly, and without a word, he opens the door to go out to the car and just…leaves.
Milan is stunned, but only for a brief moment. Quickly he reacts, grabbing Harry by the wrist before he can step out.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Milan is still in rage, breathing deeply. He tries to control himself, and fears that he can’t - if Harry doesn’t give him the answer he wants to hear now.
“Going home,” Harry answers. And Milan thinks he might just want to hit Harry for being so calm. For being so calm right fucking now. Eventually Harry goes on, “Don’t you notice that we fight like a married couple, Milan? Where did we get ourselves into? What happened to us, Milan?”
When Harry finishes the sentence, his wide eyes pleading for understanding, it all makes sense. Suddenly the words in Harry’s eyes form short sentences, sentences about hurt and pain. And about something that goes beyond sex.
And then Milan calms down, his breathing returning to its normal rhythm, his grip at Harry’s wrist softening. “Listen, Harry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, not knowing what else to say, because you know, talking about things is just so very different from shouting them out.
They stand like this, face to face, for minutes. Minutes that seem like eternity to them. Harry already outside, Milan still inside. And when no one makes a move, it all becomes awkward.
It’s probably not that they are too proud to make the first move and say sorry. That’s not the point. It’s more that they never have been in a situation as this. Them. Both of them together.
When Harry eventually mumbles that he should go and Milan answers that he does not want him to, but that he wants him to come in, it’s like reaching something that has not been reached before. It’s hard to explain and, to be honest, they don’t understand it themselves what is going on right now.
Maybe it’s simply a third way of approaching an argument.
Author: benitle
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Milan Baroš/Harry Kewell
Feedback: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: This story never happened. It’s complete fiction.
Summary: Milan and Harry have a fight
Archive: Beautiful Games, if accepted
Note: Many thanks to cerulean_eyes for the lovely and quick beta. Very helpful, my love!! *kicks stupid Mr Comma* This one was started quite a while back when Mills was still playing at Liverpool. I just had the inspiration to finally finish it the other day.
Fighting is never easy for them. Never has been, never will be.
What Harry hates so much about fighting with Milan is the fact that he always falls back into his native tongue when he reaches the point of running out of arguments. He will shout obscenities in Czech, swear, just let it all out. But then Harry doesn’t understand a word Milan is saying. It makes him feel stupid. But judging from Milan’s rage, it might be better this way.
What Milan hates so much about fighting with Harry is the fact that he always becomes quiet when he reaches the point of running out of arguments. Whilst Milan continues yelling, insulting, Harry simply doesn’t say anything. Harry looks at him like a hurt puppy but he doesn’t defend himself. And Milan doesn’t understand a word written in Harry’s eyes. This always makes Milan even angrier.
Two different ways of approaching an argument, one could say.
It doesn’t seem to be any different this time. Milan is shouting, Harry is listening. But then suddenly, it is different. Suddenly, Harry gets up from the chair he has been sitting on. Without a word, he grabs his jacket and car keys. Suddenly, and without a word, he opens the door to go out to the car and just…leaves.
Milan is stunned, but only for a brief moment. Quickly he reacts, grabbing Harry by the wrist before he can step out.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Milan is still in rage, breathing deeply. He tries to control himself, and fears that he can’t - if Harry doesn’t give him the answer he wants to hear now.
“Going home,” Harry answers. And Milan thinks he might just want to hit Harry for being so calm. For being so calm right fucking now. Eventually Harry goes on, “Don’t you notice that we fight like a married couple, Milan? Where did we get ourselves into? What happened to us, Milan?”
When Harry finishes the sentence, his wide eyes pleading for understanding, it all makes sense. Suddenly the words in Harry’s eyes form short sentences, sentences about hurt and pain. And about something that goes beyond sex.
And then Milan calms down, his breathing returning to its normal rhythm, his grip at Harry’s wrist softening. “Listen, Harry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, not knowing what else to say, because you know, talking about things is just so very different from shouting them out.
They stand like this, face to face, for minutes. Minutes that seem like eternity to them. Harry already outside, Milan still inside. And when no one makes a move, it all becomes awkward.
It’s probably not that they are too proud to make the first move and say sorry. That’s not the point. It’s more that they never have been in a situation as this. Them. Both of them together.
When Harry eventually mumbles that he should go and Milan answers that he does not want him to, but that he wants him to come in, it’s like reaching something that has not been reached before. It’s hard to explain and, to be honest, they don’t understand it themselves what is going on right now.
Maybe it’s simply a third way of approaching an argument.