Ficlet - Confessions - Milan Baroš/Harry Kewell
Title: Confessions 
Author: tifosarossonera
Rating: PG
Pairing: Milan Baroš/Harry Kewell
Feedback: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: Don’t know them, don’t own them, bla bla, never happened…all just my dirty imagination.
Summary: Harry has some bad news.
Archive: Beautiful Games, if accepted
Note: Taking place shortly before the Bayer Leverkusen - Liverpool Champions League match. Harry Kewell missed it because of an ankle injury. Thanks a zillion to ninamalfoy for the wonderful beta!!! <33333
Carefully Milan massages the bare feet that are resting on his lap. Almost shyly he turns his head to watch his lover sitting next to him on the big white sofa in the living room. Harry stares into the burning fireplace, absent-mindedly. His breathing is deep and even. He seems to be upset or thinking about something very hard.
Milan still has no clue why Harry had come over so late, without any reason. And this lack of information makes him feel uncomfortable. The Czech is usually in charge of everything, usually it is him who controls the situation. But this time it’s different. Milan doesn’t know what to do, what to say to make Harry talk. He just doesn’t know.
After a few moments, which seem like eternity to Milan, the Australian’s eyes finally meet his. They reflect sadness and insecurity.
“I gotta talk to you.” Harry whispers, hanging his head. It’s almost as if he were a little boy who is ashamed of confessing something bad to his mother.
“What happened? What’s wrong, Harry?” Milan sounds worried. And he is.
“I spoke to the physiotherapist today. And Rafa,” Harry’s words come slowly, one by one. It sounds more like he’s choking them out.
Is he scared to speak out what bothers him?
“What’s wrong, Harry?” Milan asks again, impatiently.
“I-I’m not coming with you to Germany.” Harry still hangs his head, not meeting Milan’s eyes.
“What?” The Czech almost shouts at his lover. His eyes rest on the midfielder, staring in unbelief. Since Harry makes no sign of adding anything Milan continues, “Why that? I mean you are doing well, aren’t you?”
This can’t be. This definitely can’t be. And if Harry thinks this is fucking funny then he’s got a weird sense of humour.
“It’s the ankle.” Harry’s hand reaches for Milan’s that are still resting on the Australian’s bare feet. There is an awkward silence between them before Harry continues, “I-I declared myself unfit. I’m in pain, Milan.”
Probably Harry expects Milan to throw a tantrum at him and get mad. But he doesn’t. Instead Milan lowers his glance, looking down at Harry’s ankles. Gently he starts caressing them, running his slick fingers over the joints. As if to make them better.
It takes some time until Milan finds his words again. “But we need you.”
But I need you, he thinks, however that’s something he can only confess to himself. I feel safe whenever you’re with me. You give me confidence. You make me believe in myself.
Milan doesn’t know what to say or how to react. Disappointed, he turns his head just to meet Harry’s eyes.
The Australian smiles. “Score for me, will you?”
“I will,” Milan answers as he bends over to kiss Harry softly.
-END-
Author: tifosarossonera
Rating: PG
Pairing: Milan Baroš/Harry Kewell
Feedback: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: Don’t know them, don’t own them, bla bla, never happened…all just my dirty imagination.
Summary: Harry has some bad news.
Archive: Beautiful Games, if accepted
Note: Taking place shortly before the Bayer Leverkusen - Liverpool Champions League match. Harry Kewell missed it because of an ankle injury. Thanks a zillion to ninamalfoy for the wonderful beta!!! <33333
Carefully Milan massages the bare feet that are resting on his lap. Almost shyly he turns his head to watch his lover sitting next to him on the big white sofa in the living room. Harry stares into the burning fireplace, absent-mindedly. His breathing is deep and even. He seems to be upset or thinking about something very hard.
Milan still has no clue why Harry had come over so late, without any reason. And this lack of information makes him feel uncomfortable. The Czech is usually in charge of everything, usually it is him who controls the situation. But this time it’s different. Milan doesn’t know what to do, what to say to make Harry talk. He just doesn’t know.
After a few moments, which seem like eternity to Milan, the Australian’s eyes finally meet his. They reflect sadness and insecurity.
“I gotta talk to you.” Harry whispers, hanging his head. It’s almost as if he were a little boy who is ashamed of confessing something bad to his mother.
“What happened? What’s wrong, Harry?” Milan sounds worried. And he is.
“I spoke to the physiotherapist today. And Rafa,” Harry’s words come slowly, one by one. It sounds more like he’s choking them out.
Is he scared to speak out what bothers him?
“What’s wrong, Harry?” Milan asks again, impatiently.
“I-I’m not coming with you to Germany.” Harry still hangs his head, not meeting Milan’s eyes.
“What?” The Czech almost shouts at his lover. His eyes rest on the midfielder, staring in unbelief. Since Harry makes no sign of adding anything Milan continues, “Why that? I mean you are doing well, aren’t you?”
This can’t be. This definitely can’t be. And if Harry thinks this is fucking funny then he’s got a weird sense of humour.
“It’s the ankle.” Harry’s hand reaches for Milan’s that are still resting on the Australian’s bare feet. There is an awkward silence between them before Harry continues, “I-I declared myself unfit. I’m in pain, Milan.”
Probably Harry expects Milan to throw a tantrum at him and get mad. But he doesn’t. Instead Milan lowers his glance, looking down at Harry’s ankles. Gently he starts caressing them, running his slick fingers over the joints. As if to make them better.
It takes some time until Milan finds his words again. “But we need you.”
But I need you, he thinks, however that’s something he can only confess to himself. I feel safe whenever you’re with me. You give me confidence. You make me believe in myself.
Milan doesn’t know what to say or how to react. Disappointed, he turns his head just to meet Harry’s eyes.
The Australian smiles. “Score for me, will you?”
“I will,” Milan answers as he bends over to kiss Harry softly.
-END-