[RPF] There comes again, blue sky
Title: There comes again, blue sky
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Andriy Shevchenko/Ricardo Kakà
Rating: PG14
Wordcount: 1080
Warning: slash
~ There comes again, blue sky.
It’s a little bit awkward, at first, but Andriy is willing to take anything he can get because finally, finally they are close again. After what feels like a lifetime or two, Ricardo is within his arm’s reach again, and Andriy is kind of starstruck, all over again.
"I think I’m dreaming," he whispers, softly, though he didn’t really mean to say it, but anyway Ricardo seems to relax a little bit, and he laughs, he’s laughing oh-ever-so-lightly. He was always laughing, back in Milan, whenever his Andriy, whenever his Sheva was around. It’s not like that anymore, Sheva can see it: Madrid makes Ricardo happy, yeah, but somewhere along the way his smile, once such a goofy, happy grin, lost something, Andriy isn’t really sure what it is. He just knows, whenever he watches Ricardo play in that bright, too white jersey, when he sees him in the papers, smiling and talking to the press, he knows, he just knows, there’s something missing.
Ricardo knows, too, Andriy sees it in the way he looks at him from under his lashes. That longing, slightly saddened look, paired up with the sweetest smile.
"I miss you," Ricardo says, but he keeps his distance, he’s standing one, two feet away from Andriy, not touching him, not even in the slightest, as if he’s afraid to break him. As if he’s afraid it could break them both.
Andriy nods, suddenly conscious of the many other people surrounding them, of Ricardo’s teammates, Cristiano Ronaldo glaring at the two of them from the opposite side of the room. Andriy feels overdressed, now, he misses his jersey, his red and black jersey, and he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he does. He thinks of Milan again, the city, the stadium, the crowd chanting his name and Ricardo right beside him, and he realizes he misses all of that so much he can barely breathe. He feels like he can barely even stay alive.
"Andriy," Ricardo’s voice is soft in his ear, kind a little shy and this is Andriy’s Ricky, Andriy’s Kaka. This kid with big brown eyes and the gentle frown, his hand squeezing Andriy’s to comfort him, to reassure him. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I..." Andriy can’t really find the words for it, not in the little Spanish he knows, not in Italian, not even in Ukrainian or Russian or English or anything, because Ricardo is touching him, and it’s like a vertigo spinning up from where their skins meet. "I’m just... I’m happy to see you. Very happy."
"Come with me," Ricardo says, a smile on his lips. "Let’s find a quiet place to talk."
They end up on the roof, somehow. Andriy barely remembers following Ricardo around the large hallways of the hotel, turning corner after corner after corner and he remembers some stairs, too, and the surprised face of a cleaning lady, and then suddenly a flash of the thickest blue he’s ever seen, the sky, so large and bright above their heads.
Ricardo smiles, goes to lean onto the handrail, and Andriy is kind of moving in his shadow, following his steps. Madrid takes his breath away, from up here; Andriy has always liked height and city skylines, though, so maybe, just maybe, it could’ve been any other place in the world and he’d be amazed anyway. He still looks at the city, and it’s bright, clean, as beautiful as the women downstairs, their hair combed, make-up on, polite smiles and high heels and tiny dresses. Madrid looks just perfect.
"Do you like it?" Ricardo asks, quietly, his voice unusually dark, and low; Andriy turns his head to look at him, and just like that he remembers what real beauty is. He shuffles a bit on his feet, and moves a little closer to Ricardo, their shoulders bumping softly into each other’s.
"It’s a beautiful city," he says, because it’s true, and Ricardo smiles knowingly. Andriy doesn’t say, Milan was so much better. He doesn’t say, you can’t compare them, what we had there. He doesn’t say, I miss it so much; I miss you, because Ricardo knows all of that already, of course, and then some more.
"It really is," he agrees, and then bends his head a bit, looking at his hands hanging off the rail, folded. "I didn’t know you’d be here today."
Andriy looks at Ricardo’s hands too, and he wants to take them and tuck them into his jacket’s pockets, and never let go. He doesn’t want to ever let go of him again, mostly.
"I didn’t realize I was actually coming until I got off the plane," he says, a small smile playing around the corners of his lips. "As insane as it may sound, that’s the truth." Ricardo looks at him for a very long moment, his dark chocolate eyes gently taking in all of Andriy’s face, the straight line of his nose, and then he huffs a soft laughter.
"You really are insane," he says, leaning sideways to press his forehead against Andriy’s shoulder. "I miss you, Sheva. I miss this."
Andriy freezes, he stops breathing and just focuses on the sweet warmth spreading through his chest. He closes his eyes, Ricardo’s hair slightly tickling his neck, and then he reboots, slowly, and when he does, the only thing he wants to do is to put an arm around his shoulders to keep him there, possibly forever. So, he does.
"I miss you, too," he says, so quietly Ricardo couldn’t possibly have heard him, but he snuggles closer to him, so maybe he heard afterall. Andriy feels Ricardo’s arm slip around his waist, he turns around to hug him properly and that’s good, now it’s good, their chests pushed together and pressing a chaste kiss to the side of his neck, mouthing I love you, and never actually saying it. Ricardo’s skin tastes different now, if only a bit less like the sun and more like a football field, no, a crowded stadium chanting in Spanish.
"Can you stay?" Ricardo asks, and Andriy should really tell him that no, he can’t stay, not long enough anyway, because they both have families, and carreers which have spilt them over the continent, so, no, he can’t stay, he shouldn’t even be here, he shouldn’t even love him.
"Yeah," Andriy says, instead, because this is Ricardo, and there’s no way Andriy could ever tell him, I have to go. He’s learned it the hard way, that this - holding onto Ricardo, just the two of them somewhere in the world, - is his heart’s place.
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Andriy Shevchenko/Ricardo Kakà
Rating: PG14
Wordcount: 1080
Warning: slash
~ There comes again, blue sky.
It’s a little bit awkward, at first, but Andriy is willing to take anything he can get because finally, finally they are close again. After what feels like a lifetime or two, Ricardo is within his arm’s reach again, and Andriy is kind of starstruck, all over again.
"I think I’m dreaming," he whispers, softly, though he didn’t really mean to say it, but anyway Ricardo seems to relax a little bit, and he laughs, he’s laughing oh-ever-so-lightly. He was always laughing, back in Milan, whenever his Andriy, whenever his Sheva was around. It’s not like that anymore, Sheva can see it: Madrid makes Ricardo happy, yeah, but somewhere along the way his smile, once such a goofy, happy grin, lost something, Andriy isn’t really sure what it is. He just knows, whenever he watches Ricardo play in that bright, too white jersey, when he sees him in the papers, smiling and talking to the press, he knows, he just knows, there’s something missing.
Ricardo knows, too, Andriy sees it in the way he looks at him from under his lashes. That longing, slightly saddened look, paired up with the sweetest smile.
"I miss you," Ricardo says, but he keeps his distance, he’s standing one, two feet away from Andriy, not touching him, not even in the slightest, as if he’s afraid to break him. As if he’s afraid it could break them both.
Andriy nods, suddenly conscious of the many other people surrounding them, of Ricardo’s teammates, Cristiano Ronaldo glaring at the two of them from the opposite side of the room. Andriy feels overdressed, now, he misses his jersey, his red and black jersey, and he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he does. He thinks of Milan again, the city, the stadium, the crowd chanting his name and Ricardo right beside him, and he realizes he misses all of that so much he can barely breathe. He feels like he can barely even stay alive.
"Andriy," Ricardo’s voice is soft in his ear, kind a little shy and this is Andriy’s Ricky, Andriy’s Kaka. This kid with big brown eyes and the gentle frown, his hand squeezing Andriy’s to comfort him, to reassure him. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I..." Andriy can’t really find the words for it, not in the little Spanish he knows, not in Italian, not even in Ukrainian or Russian or English or anything, because Ricardo is touching him, and it’s like a vertigo spinning up from where their skins meet. "I’m just... I’m happy to see you. Very happy."
"Come with me," Ricardo says, a smile on his lips. "Let’s find a quiet place to talk."
They end up on the roof, somehow. Andriy barely remembers following Ricardo around the large hallways of the hotel, turning corner after corner after corner and he remembers some stairs, too, and the surprised face of a cleaning lady, and then suddenly a flash of the thickest blue he’s ever seen, the sky, so large and bright above their heads.
Ricardo smiles, goes to lean onto the handrail, and Andriy is kind of moving in his shadow, following his steps. Madrid takes his breath away, from up here; Andriy has always liked height and city skylines, though, so maybe, just maybe, it could’ve been any other place in the world and he’d be amazed anyway. He still looks at the city, and it’s bright, clean, as beautiful as the women downstairs, their hair combed, make-up on, polite smiles and high heels and tiny dresses. Madrid looks just perfect.
"Do you like it?" Ricardo asks, quietly, his voice unusually dark, and low; Andriy turns his head to look at him, and just like that he remembers what real beauty is. He shuffles a bit on his feet, and moves a little closer to Ricardo, their shoulders bumping softly into each other’s.
"It’s a beautiful city," he says, because it’s true, and Ricardo smiles knowingly. Andriy doesn’t say, Milan was so much better. He doesn’t say, you can’t compare them, what we had there. He doesn’t say, I miss it so much; I miss you, because Ricardo knows all of that already, of course, and then some more.
"It really is," he agrees, and then bends his head a bit, looking at his hands hanging off the rail, folded. "I didn’t know you’d be here today."
Andriy looks at Ricardo’s hands too, and he wants to take them and tuck them into his jacket’s pockets, and never let go. He doesn’t want to ever let go of him again, mostly.
"I didn’t realize I was actually coming until I got off the plane," he says, a small smile playing around the corners of his lips. "As insane as it may sound, that’s the truth." Ricardo looks at him for a very long moment, his dark chocolate eyes gently taking in all of Andriy’s face, the straight line of his nose, and then he huffs a soft laughter.
"You really are insane," he says, leaning sideways to press his forehead against Andriy’s shoulder. "I miss you, Sheva. I miss this."
Andriy freezes, he stops breathing and just focuses on the sweet warmth spreading through his chest. He closes his eyes, Ricardo’s hair slightly tickling his neck, and then he reboots, slowly, and when he does, the only thing he wants to do is to put an arm around his shoulders to keep him there, possibly forever. So, he does.
"I miss you, too," he says, so quietly Ricardo couldn’t possibly have heard him, but he snuggles closer to him, so maybe he heard afterall. Andriy feels Ricardo’s arm slip around his waist, he turns around to hug him properly and that’s good, now it’s good, their chests pushed together and pressing a chaste kiss to the side of his neck, mouthing I love you, and never actually saying it. Ricardo’s skin tastes different now, if only a bit less like the sun and more like a football field, no, a crowded stadium chanting in Spanish.
"Can you stay?" Ricardo asks, and Andriy should really tell him that no, he can’t stay, not long enough anyway, because they both have families, and carreers which have spilt them over the continent, so, no, he can’t stay, he shouldn’t even be here, he shouldn’t even love him.
"Yeah," Andriy says, instead, because this is Ricardo, and there’s no way Andriy could ever tell him, I have to go. He’s learned it the hard way, that this - holding onto Ricardo, just the two of them somewhere in the world, - is his heart’s place.