One Shot: It's Not That I Don't Love You
Title: It's Not That I Don't Love You
Authors: fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger / Fernando Torres
Rating: R
Genre: Real Life Scenarios / Romance / Angst
Word Count: 6,043 Words
Disclaimer and Warning: Real life scenarios. Transfer dramas. Some of this is real, some of this isn’t; you decide which. Some parts were excerpted from news and interviews and some are based on; the sources are LFC TV and Chelsea TV, mostly. Affairs. Lots and lots of angst (oh, how I love angst!)
A/N: I’ve never thought I'd write stories about Torres transfer drama. It’s been two years really but our new vice-captain’s news recently just spurred the mood, so it poured out.
Load of loves and thanks to thopix, without her, this story wouldn't be complete.
Just a break from The $64,000 Conundrum, I’ll get back to it after. ;P
Summary: It didn't even hurt at first.
It's Not That I Don't Love You
It didn't even hurt at first.
It shocked him for the most part when he heard it, nobody knew what's going to happen until it actually happened, and when it did happen, nobody knows what the fuck is going on: that's the way it is, it's the way the world goes 'round.
Still, it shocked him.
Because, to be honest, he didn't expect this outcome: he was so confident in himself, too confident, that he didn't prepare for what's actually coming. He had never believed the other would actually choose the opposite. For him, that option was out of the question; he would never consider it twice and he's too sure the Spaniard would do the same.
Apparently, it turned out he didn't.
Not only the Spaniard, but it also stunned him that the club did take the offer, on the last day, only twelve hours left. He knew that's a lot of money, but still, the striker was their only hope. His only hope. Though he's confident that he had convinced him to stay, the club's firm decision was his last resort that he's sure wouldn't let the Spaniard leave.
Apparently, it turned out the club did.
The feeling of shock faded and what flared in his chest far before he realized, still wasn't pain, was seething anger. The way the Spaniard did it was just too insolent Daniel couldn't stand. He didn't get why the Spaniard chose to do something like THAT. Still, with excuses like 'I want to play for a Champion League team to pursue my dream', he still didn't understand. If it was him, he'd never deflect from here to a rival club, any other club in England. Don't have to say that he didn't actually think about moving to any other club AT ALL. He didn't understand why the Spaniard just couldn't choose a club in other leagues, not another Premier League team like Chelsea, because for him, it's a matter of respect to Liverpool which the Spaniard failed to show.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He felt thoroughly betrayed. Fernando LIED to him. He didn't get it, or actually, maybe he didn't want to. HERE is his home, is their home. They're happy here, weren't they? While he had his beautiful wife Sofie and cute son Jamie, and the Spaniard had lovely Ollala, pretty-doll Nora and his newborn angel: Leo, they had Stevie, Pepe, Carra, Martin, and everybody else. But the most important thing was: they had each other. For him, that was more than enough because every time he lay next to the Spaniard and looked into those beautiful brown eyes, he could see the universe. He didn't fucking care about anything else because as long as he had Fernando, he knew he could have the whole world.
That's why Daniel was sitting in his car in front of Que Pasa Cantina, his own restaurant, where they usually met. He's sure the Spaniard's house would be flocked around by journalists, anti-fans as well as policemen, though Fernando was currently in London to sign that fucking new contract with Chelsea. He didn't know why he's even here, he wanted to see the Spaniard and this was the first place that came to mind, the second place was Fernando's house where he usually drove to fetch him if he missed him so much that he couldn't wait a minute more. But now there's no point of him to come here or the Spaniard's home, he wouldn't meet him here nor there; Fernando was gone, had left Liverpool for Chelsea, left Daniel for something better.
He kept asking himself, over and over and over again: 'Why?'
And eventually, he felt hurt.
January 27th, 2011
"Hey," the Dane greeted the Spaniard and smiled widely as opening the door for him. Fernando nodded at him, a bit shyly, and entered the room. "Everything's alright?"
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to sneak up on each other these days?" Fernando took off his hood which was soaked with cold showers. Daniel hated British rain normally especially in winter but these days he even prayed for it to rain harder because it's the only thing that made him see Fernando besides at training: the rain made paparazzi and fans disintegrate fast.
"Then stop making transfer rumours, you know why they follow you," Daniel retorted, sat down on the couch and turned on the telly. He built a large and comfy living room above Que Pasa Cantina for his friends to hang out overnight or other occasions, which he'd put to use more often than not; Fernando was his most common guest here.
The Spaniard slowly walked over to the couch and sat down, didn't reply. The Dane turned to look at him. Fernando was staring at the television but didn't seem to take in anything, his brunet hair was a bit damp from the rain and Daniel felt his heart constrict in a strange sort of way from the blank and bleakness around him. "Hey, what's up?" He asked.
The Spaniard sighed. "I'm tired." He slouched in the couch, head against the backrest, eyes drooped. The defender looked at him in silence for a moment then shifted to rest his head in Fernando's lap. The striker opened his eyes lazily, looking down at him. "You thug puppy," he mumbled coyly.
Daniel smiled his small smile to himself, felt really blissful as watching Sky Sports and having Fernando's fingers carding through his short hair absentmindedly. He's about to doze off when the reporter talked about the transfer window which would be closed in four days.
"Liverpool have just rejected an audacious bid which is believed to be a £40 million offer from Chelsea for Fernando Torres as the champions attempt to kick-start their faltering attempts to strengthen Carlo Ancelotti’s squad before Monday’s transfer deadline. A Liverpool spokesman told us: "Chelsea have made an offer for Fernando, which has been rejected. The player is not for sale.""
The sound of that made Daniel feel relieved, if not for the next sentences:
"Fernando Torres has told Liverpool to sit down and negotiate with Chelsea. The striker has urged the Fenway Sports Group to broker an agreement that is good for both player and club. However, there is not a clause that will allow Torres to unilaterally break his contract in this transfer window-"
"Stop that, Nando," he growled, and the Spaniard stopped carding fingers through his hair. "Chelsea? For fuck's sake! I've told you before-"
"I know," Fernando cut him off, but his voice's rigid and brooked no argument. It's not often that the Spaniard used this tone, he's always a humble and laid-back individual. It's just lately since the transfer drama had started that he looked unsettled that at times he snapped.
Daniel wondered whether he got those snaps from Fernando more often than others because of his persistent nagging on the topic. And though the Dane still wanted to preach him a hundred reasons why he shouldn't transfer to Chelsea, he didn't want to fight with Fernando and ruin the mood. They rarely met up these days and time was too precious to waste on something he had said about a thousand times.
So instead, Daniel snuggled up to the lap he's resting in, closing his eyes and ignoring the reporter, his hand caught the Spaniard's on his head and held it loosely. "Change the channel," he ordered Fernando and felt the Spaniard shift to fetch the remote control while trying his best to not disturb Daniel in his lap. Then he browsed through channels after channels until he paused at one with the sound so much like Star Trek.
Daniel smiled.
Five minutes had passed when the striker called him uncertainly, "Daniel?"
"Hmm?" The Dane murmured drowsily.
"I thought you've fallen asleep. If not, could you please help my legs from falling as well? They're about to."
"If you can give me a pillow, I'll let your legs go," Daniel said stubbornly, then he could feel Fernando look around for pillows.
"Where are they?" He asked when finding none. "You used to have a lot of them here."
"There comes a time when stuff requires sterilization once in a while."
The Spaniard paused. "How about you?"
Daniel scrunched up his nose. "I'm not dirty!" Fernando trailed fingers of his free hand down the Dane's inky arm. He goosebumped.
"A masterpiece of hooligan, that's what you are," he mocked.
"Ooh, girls like bad boys, don't they?"
"Agger, I am not a girl," he said, a bit coy, a bit pissed off.
"And I didn't say you were!" Guffawing good-humoredly, Daniel nuzzled up deeper against the striker's lap. "Though you really act like one."
Fernando snatched the blanket up off the floor and pushed the lump down the defender's face with all his might. Daniel couldn't breathe so he yelled and laughed and struggled to push the Spaniard's hands off at the same time. "Nando, pretty little snowflake, let go of me!"
"Shut. Up," Fernando growled.
January 29th, 2011
"Stop saying that you want to leave!"
Daniel growled as the Spaniard got in his car. The situation was even worse when the transfer window was about to close. There were confusions everywhere: nobody knew anymore which was real, which was rumour, even someone like him who practically lived in Melwood. It's frustrating and Daniel really hated this kind of situation especially after that fucking news about Fernando submitting a transfer request yesterday.
"You don't get me, do you, Daniel?" The Spaniard mumbled. And Daniel leapt at that chance without a second thought, today he wanted a fight.
"Of course, Torres, I don't get you! So that news about the transfer request is true, isn't it?" And when Fernando didn't answer, the Dane felt something clench his heart, though he continued, "Why are you so impatient? Can't you wait until the end of the season? It's just only another six months, Fernando. You don't want to be with us for only a minute longer that you have to leave right fucking now?"
"I don't have time, Daniel," Fernando mumbled.
"Of course you bloody have because I'm gonna talk about this even it takes all day until it knocks some senses into you!"
"No, Dan, I mean I can't wait six months more."
Daniel paused, felt his throat parched. "Why not?"
"We mightn't be as lucky as what Chelsea have offered. It's better to sell me now when they want me and the price is high. If we wait, the club mightn't get this price and in the next six months, Chelsea will sign someone else and would need me no more. Think about it, if the club get that money, they could buy whomever they want."
But what Daniel could hear was something else. "You're afraid that you'll lose the train outta here forever if you don't catch this one."
Fernando took in a deep breath. "What good can I do for the club if we're still like this? I've done my best, given all that I've got. Football is about teamwork, every element counts, but elements Liverpool have now don't reinforce each other, so it might be time to change. Maybe you should think about that, too-"
"Think about what?!" Daniel cut him off, furious. He pulled over to the curb, not sure what he'd do with this rage if he kept on driving. "About doing what you're doing?! Stop your lip service, Torres, you're such a hypocrite. What you actually think about is to get outta this town the fastest you can to any other fucking club that could serve you trophies on silver platters as well as pay you higher."
"The reason I came here from Spain in the first place is to play for Champion League, Daniel, my goal still doesn't change! If you were me right now, won't you do the same?!" The Spaniard was angry, too. It's the first time Daniel remembered Fernando being this furious.
And apparently, it's the last time, too.
"I won't!" The Dane shouted back. "If it was me, I'd never ever think about moving to other clubs in England. It's about respect, Fernando! By moving to Chelsea, you won't only leave Liverpool in the darkest hour, but also turning against them!"
"What choices do I have, Dan?! The other league that is competitive enough for Champion League, has money to invest in me and would want me is Serie A, and I don't want to go to Italy! And I can't go back to Spain, can I? I can't go to Barcelona or Real Madrid. They wouldn't want me, they have their own stars, not to say that I don't want to go there in the first place, they are rivals to Atlético-"
"Oh, don't you know that Chelsea are Liverpool's rival?" He spat. "It's simply an act of betrayal, Nando!"
"If you need to hear, I'll say it," the Spaniard hissed, "that the only club I'm loyal to is Atlético Madrid, have been like that from the start and will never change. Atlético are the club of my life. And you said I betrayed Liverpool, but the club also betrayed me! I've done the best I could to help them but nothing works, nothing's getting better, the club don't give me what I've been promised. They promised me they'd build a team that can be competitive for Champion League again, but after all this time, they signed no one that could improve the situation. I'd be willing to stay longer if I've seen some improvements, if I've been paid off for what I've done. But there's nothing, they lied to me! Don't you realize that they don't have money, Dan? But if they sell me, I can give them that. I don't know how much but I promise it'll be worth it. It's the best and last thing I can do for the club now, as well as the best and last thing they could do for me."
"Nando, for God's sake, there's nothing in this whole fucking world that’s worth giving you up!" Daniel yelled.
"Dan, I can't live like this for the rest of my life, I have dreams! I came to England to pursue it and if Liverpool can't give what I want, what I have to do is just moving on to another club!"
Daniel was shaking with rage. "Is that all Liverpool mean to you? A tool to your success, a mean to your end? Don't you love the club at all?!" Don't you love me at all?
"It's not that I don't love the club," Fernando murmured, his voice shook, and Daniel wondered whether it's because of anger or something else. "But I've had enough of it. We don't have all the time in the world like we thought when we're younger. How long do you think we can keep playing football? We're twenty-six and getting older every day. If it's not now, it might not ever."
"Give me another six months," Daniel insisted. He's calmer now so pulling the car off to continue the route to Que Pasa Cantina. "At least to the end of season. And not to Chelsea or other English clubs."
The Spaniard stared at him. "Have you been listening to me, Daniel?"
"I have." He turned a corner. "And I think you're an asshole who can't wait to turn against the club you've never loved. And also a hypocrite who sweet talked that what you're doing is for the best of the club while actually only thinking about your best interest. Believe me, leaving right now will do you bad rather than good. Do you know what's gonna happen? People will hate you, not only Liverpool's supporters but might as well others', because they'll see you as an epitome of traitor: a Judas."
"I don't fucking care what others are gonna think. They don't get me as well as you bloody don't."
"Oh, you don't care what I'm gonna think about you now?"
Fernando looked at him incredulously. "So this is about you and me then?"
"I'm a part of the club, so yes, this is about me and you."
"Don't be a hypocrite, Agger," Fernando spat. "You've made it personal now, haven't you?"
"If you want to play it like that, fine!" His anger now rose once again. "I don't get it, yes. I don't get anything in your fucking brain! Because, Nando, everybody loves you here, you're their hero. How could you be so cold-hearted to leave them at a time like this if they fucking love you that much? Here, you have family, friends, money, fame. You have me. Fernando, you have almost everything so I don't get why you want to leave!"
"Except titles. What I don't have are titles. Isn't that the most important thing?"
"No! I don't get why you would want to win titles with other clubs, because for me it wouldn't mean anything if I don't win it with Liverpool, it'd mean nothing if I don't win it with you!" He blurted that out before he knew it.
Fernando startled. "Daniel, I am not Liverpool. One player doesn't represent the whole club, I can't. There's a difference between win it with Liverpool and win it with me. That I'm leaving the club isn't the same as I'm leaving you...," he trailed off. There's silence, then,
"You know it's not that I don't love you, right?"
"Then stay," Daniel blurted out, desperately so. "For me, there's no difference: Liverpool are the club of my life, like Atlético Madrid are to you. So if you leave them, it's the same as leaving me, if you betray them, you betray me as well! You're the sunshine of the club, of my life - if you know what I mean." His cheeks burnt with embarrassment, it's unusual that he confessed something like that and he didn't dare looking the Spaniard in the eyes.
"W-What? Daniel, you can't do that. You can't just make your life the club's, they're total different matters! Atlético is THE CLUB OF MY LIFE but they're not MY LIFE, there's a difference-"
"Please," Daniel cut him off, didn't care how pathetic he might sound right now. He'd never begged, and the Spaniard knew this. He'd never thought he'd come so far as this and it'd already broken his heart that he had to beg Fernando to stay. But still: "Six months, that's all I ask. Just, please don't go."
The plea might have caught something in Fernando's heart because after that he's silent for a very long time. The striker kept on staring out the window until the Dane thought he wasn't going to reply. They arrived at his restaurant, Daniel parked and cut the engine off then the Spaniard eventually said in a low voice, answer that made the Dane's heart leap in his chest,
"Alright."
It's already dark outside, they had dinner in a private corner and Daniel tried his best to lighten up the atmosphere with chats and jokes but it's still all gloomy. Though Fernando said he'd accepted the Dane's plea, he's way too quiet than usual like something was still disturbing his mind.
"I'll give you a ride back home," Daniel said when it's quite late. Fernando looked at his watch.
"Can you stay here overnight?" He asked shyly, cheeks red. The Dane's a bit surprised.
"Yeah, sure."
He called Sofie that he'd have a night out. Fernando hadn't stayed over for a very long time. They went upstairs. The couch could be unfolded to bed and Daniel took care of it.
"Daniel," Fernando called. He turned around and the Spaniard's lips caught his.
There're no words after that. Fernando slowly pushed Daniel down on the bed and the Dane held onto the kiss for dear life. The Spaniard's chest was warm on top of his and Daniel felt hotness radiating off Fernando's jeans when their groins ground out. The defender gasped, he broke off the kiss, nibbled the other boy's neck down to his collarbone and the Spaniard's breath hitched. His hands slid to the edge of Fernando's shirt and pulled off. The striker felt for his lips and while he deepened the kiss, shivered, he took off Daniel's shirt as well.
Then they fumbled with each other's jeans and Daniel flipped them over so he'd be on top of the Spaniard. Fernando snuggled up against his shoulder and kissed the tattoo on it. He ran his hands down the Dane's tattooed arms then up through the sides of his muscular body and firm chest, cupped his neck and caressed the elastic skin there provokingly. The defender fumbled for lube which he always stashed away in the drawer of the coffee table. There's something in Fernando's eyes when he looked at Daniel as the Dane entered him but Daniel dismissed it by kissing the striker's cheek for consolation down to his neck then when the Spaniard gasped as he hit his prostate, he went back up to claim those lips once again.
In retrospect, Daniel knew, deep down inside, but he just didn't want to accept it,
That that's how Fernando tell him goodbye.
February 6th, 2011
Burning rage still ate him up inside, like there's a monster in his chest and it slowly gnawed his innards, starting from his heart. They're at Stamford Bridge. It'd been six days that he hadn't talked to Fernando and today wasn't the best occasion after what the Spaniard had given to Chelsea TV on interviews, because it just made him want to punch Fernando even more.
There had been fury and melancholy all over Melwood for the past days and Daniel had been caught up between both because he didn't know which he should feel more. He felt totally betrayed, not only because Fernando left him and the club, but also that he lied to him.
Something churned in his gut, he wanted to puke.
But he couldn't, he couldn't let emotions take over him today. They're having a very important match. Liverpool couldn't lose. This battle meant everything, today it's not about the game anymore, it's about pride. Liverpool had been humiliated enough by not only the striker's deflection but also his loose and heartless tongue. Daniel was hurt, of course, but he wouldn't be this angry if the Spaniard had shut his mouth up before dragging everything down to hell.
The rage had been burning inside him for the past six days, he didn't know when it would die.
A staff came in and told them to line up. Daniel got up reluctantly and following Stevie out of the dressing room. The atmosphere was dull and stressful, nobody talked much except for Kenny, even Stevie. Daniel knew everyone was still in a state of aftershock and wished that what happened wasn't real: they didn't want this match to happen because seeing Fernando in Chelsea's number 9 in the flesh would thrash their delusion. Nonetheless, he also knew that when his teammates realized it wasn't just a nightmare but reality which was way worse, they'd also realize that they had to fight this battle with everything they had. They couldn't lose this game.
Fernando wasn't in the tunnel when Daniel arrived though he tried not to look at anyone in particular. He forced himself to look forward to the game only so he didn't see when the striker came out. He definitely saw him on the pitch, though: the brunet in a deep blue jersey with the lion crest over his heart. It churned Daniel's stomach even more that he had to look away.
The Chelsea squad walked through them for the handshake. It's strange that the Dane felt eventually calm given that the encounter was imminent both the handshake and the game and it’s inevitable for a defender like him to block the Chelsea's striker. Ooh, that word hurts: ‘the Chelsea's striker’. Daniel bit his lip as Fernando walked past him.
The Spaniard looked him in the eyes, but Daniel looked past him, at his hairline but actually seeing nothing. Fernando's hand grasped his and the Dane squeezed it firmly. He released it only after a split-second and the striker looked a bit hurt but he passed on.
The game started and Daniel kept his eyes on the striker all the time. They ran around in the same area trying to defend versus score. Mostly when Fernando got the ball, the crowd would boo, not cheer. A part of him felt sorry for the hatred towards him while a bigger part was so satisfied because the Spaniard fucking deserved it.
Fernando got the ball and Daniel was the nearest Liverpool's defender. It happened too fast: first the Dane focused on the ball at the striker's feet, then he looked up at the Spaniard's face. The striker's attention was to the ball but the Dane's sure he'd noticed him and the carelessness in Fernando's eyes kindled a smoldering fire in his chest.
He punched Fernando's face with his elbow before he realized.
The crowd cheered and the referee blew the whistle to stop the game. Daniel walked away to his teammates, his brows furrowed but his face was calm: carefully hiding real emotions. Cameras were on and he didn't feel like betraying them - these kinds of real emotions - on his face today, or forever. He's expecting a yellow card any minute. The defender didn't look back at Fernando and was surprised when the referee didn't call for him and continued the game like that punch was a complete accident.
Daniel felt like he'd just taken his revenge on Fernando on behalf of all Liverpool's supporters,
And couldn't feel more satisfied when Raul scored a goal for them.
And they won, Liverpool won. Though that's what he'd hoped for, when it actually happened, he's really surprised. Daniel didn't pay attention to their attacks much, all he focused on today was to hinder Fernando from scoring, and then other forwards when the Spaniard was substituted. As they walked into the tunnel, his teammates were so chipper. Martin caught his shoulder and tugged him close. "Mate, that punch was bloody awesome." And the Dane smiled.
That night they came back to Liverpool and celebrated at Que Pasa Cantina. Daniel hadn't been to his restaurant for almost a week since the Spaniard had left because he knew if he saw that room, his mind would drift back to the last night they'd spent together, as well as other nights, which Daniel didn't want to think about because, well, it bloody hurts.
As the night wore on, they're drunk. Maxi and Dirk were slouching, arms around each other's shoulders and singing 'You'll Never Walk Alone'. The Dane was tipsy, he snatched up his phone and thought about calling Sofie that he'd stay here overnight, she might whine a bit because he also did that last week with-
Fuck.
Before he knew it, the contact he dialed wasn't Sofie.
It rang four times before the other end picked up.
"Hello."
Daniel took in a deep breath, he didn't know why he called, he had nothing to say and didn't feel like apologizing for the thing he did today, but he wanted to hear Fernando's voice.
Just that.
"Hello."
There's silence, and the Dane knew he had to say something because he's the one who called, so:
"How's your nose?"
Daniel could almost imagine Fernando snort. "It's not broken, so I guess it's fine."
There's silence once again.
"Are you happy now?"
The striker was bewildered. "What?"
"You weren't happy before, that's why you left, were you?" Daniel could even taste the bitterness of his words in his mouth.
Fernando was silent, then, "I couldn't stick there forever," was all he said.
"Why did you have to lie?" Daniel blurted out, and Martin who's sitting next to him turned around baffledly. The Dane got up, gestured to the Slovak that he'd be excused for a minute and walked to the back of the restaurant.
The striker's silence was too long this time and the Dane knew he didn't have an answer for this. He paced up the stairs. "Because I didn't want to fight with you." Fernando's voice when he eventually spoke was shaking around the edge. "I've told you, Dan, I have to go."
"You don't love me enough to stay, do you?"
And there're a lot of emotions churning inside him at that moment: anger, sorrow, incomprehension, desperation, yearning. He arrived at the living room upstairs and as holding the door open, the first thing that caught his eyes was the bed.
It looked the same as he'd left it on Sunday's morning: astray pillow on the nearby floor, rumpled blanket on the couch and the room's still reek of sex. The sight stopped him on the threshold and he felt a lump in his throat.
"Daniel." Fernando took in a deep breath though his voice was shaking for real now. "If you love me, you have to let me go."
He felt like that sentence shattered him into shreds, his head's blank and his eyes were blurry. He heard what Fernando said afterwards but he didn't want to understand.
"So that doesn’t mean I don't love you, Daniel."
The Dane cut the line, he didn't want to hear anything from those lips anymore, he guessed he'd had enough. Absentmindedly, he walked into the room, stared at the bed before sitting down on it. He lifted the blanket and could smell Fernando all over it. The Dane buried his face in the soft but cool cotton fabric.
And then he cried.
August 20th, 2013
"It's a difficult feeling to describe," he said after having been asked about his recent vice-captaincy. "Not many people have the success to become a professional footballer and not many people get the vice-captaincy, so that's a big, big thing for me, of course. But it's so difficult to describe."
Daniel was sitting in a room in Melwood for an interview with LFC TV. He's blissfully happy.
"What do you see your responsibilities as vice-captain be?" The interviewer asked.
"I always have responsibility, no matter if you're vice-captain or not. You have to always be there, always be at the front and, of course, try to help some of the young players."
"Every captain has a different style, we've seen that here at Liverpool. How would you describe your style?"
"Now I have been here for almost seven and a half, eight years, and Stevie has been the captain all the way. He is an amazing captain: he is the one I will look at. Not only in his football skills, because that speaks for itself, but the person he is and the way he treats people - he's just the best."
"So would you try to emulate Steven's captaincy style?"
"Obviously I'm not the captain, but when I play for Denmark and I'm the captain for Denmark, I've learned a lot in the last ten years of my career. I'm trying to take the best part of all the good things, also from Stevie, and put it together in the way I want to do it. I think that's the best way to describe that."
He smiled, he smiled all the time. He's really elated for the vice-captainship he'd just earned, it's a real honour especially from a club with rich history like Liverpool and he didn't mind displaying real emotions which he'd always reserved to the whole Liverpool's supporters today. So when the interviewer asked, "Well, you are now, vice-captain. As you mentioned, you've been at the club for seven, nearly eight years. You have the YNWA tattoo. So what does Liverpool Football Club mean to Daniel Agger?" he smiled goofily and responded,
"Do we have time for that?"
Daniel stopped by a café for a cup of take-away coffee after getting out of Melwood before continued walking along a street of Liverpool. The sun shone over the harbour city today: a rare and excellent sign of English summer. He closed his eyes, tilted his head up to the sky and deeply inhaled the smell of coffee and Liverpool basking in the sun.
The last time he scented something like this was almost three years ago, as he woke up entangled in the blanket one day with sunlight streaming in through an open window.
It's summer and the weather was warm. The wind carried in the scent of harbour city with almost-a-thousand years of history under summer's bright sun while the room was saturated with the smell of coffee. He inhaled deeply and found that besides those odors, he could still smell Fernando all over the bed.
The Dane opened his eyes and stretched lazily on the sofa-bed. He heard snickers behind so he turned around.
Fernando was sitting at a table, sipping coffee contentedly while looking at the defender. He's only in boxers and his eyes showed mischief burying deep under usual shyness. The Dane smiled his just-woken-up smile, nodded at the cup in the Spaniard's hand and teased, "Don’t bother, I'll just get my ass up and make another cup myself. Oh, what a very good lover you are."
Fernando giggled. "I'm flattered, but don't bother. If you want some of this, get your ass up and come here."
Daniel quirked up his brow. "How could I do that and not be bothered?" He shifted to lie on his side, propping his head in his hand. "You come here."
The striker pouted, but after a moment of staring contest, got up and walked over to the bed. The Dane smiled wolfishly then lunged to catch Fernando's hips with both arms. The Spaniard almost stumbled onto bed but he held his coffee cup high and steady. Luckily, it didn't spill.
"Daniel!" He yelped good-humoredly. The defender snuggled up against his nape and took in a deep breath, his blond hair smelled like Daniel's favourite shampoo and it mixed just too perfectly with the smell of coffee and Liverpool city basking in the summer sun.
Fernando turned around, a shy yet happy small smile flickered on his lips when he leaned in to kiss him.
Daniel opened his eyes.
The crowd bustled around him and at that moment the reminiscing spell broke. The Dane took in a deep breath and resumed walking.
That's a long time ago.
They'd chosen different paths: the blue one versus the red one. To leave versus to stay. Barcelona had been paying attention to him lately but the club had rejected the offer and instead named him the new vice-captain of Liverpool Football Club to hinder his further moves. Barcelona were obviously a big club, but he'd never thought about leaving Liverpool.
Never.
Unless the club wanted to sell him, transfer had never ever crossed his mind. He even had YNWA tattoo on the back of his fingers. Frankly, he didn't mind if they didn't finish in the top four this season, the next, or even forever. He didn't want to go to another club and win titles with them: it wouldn't mean anything if he didn't win it for Liverpool, for the club he loved.
And he loved this club.
He's a loyal person, just like that.
But he wasn't angry at Fernando anymore. He’d learnt that everybody had different reasons, different dreams. Fernando's dream wasn't here, so he had to leave and keep on pursuing.
But Daniel's dream was here, so he needn't go anywhere.
He rarely met Fernando these days: twice a year, at least, when Liverpool had matches against Chelsea. It's a bit strange to see him in blue shirts, and it's still strange until these days but Daniel eventually got over it. He had wished him all the best. He hoped Fernando's dream would actually come true one day, whatever he'd wished for.
The smell of coffee and Liverpool under the sun still pervaded around him, but what absent was the scent of Fernando.
The sudden wistful thinking churned his gut a bit, but Daniel dismissed it fast and moved on.
Until we meet next time, then.
And that doesn’t mean I don’t still love you.
The End
Feedbacks!
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Authors: fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger / Fernando Torres
Rating: R
Genre: Real Life Scenarios / Romance / Angst
Word Count: 6,043 Words
Disclaimer and Warning: Real life scenarios. Transfer dramas. Some of this is real, some of this isn’t; you decide which. Some parts were excerpted from news and interviews and some are based on; the sources are LFC TV and Chelsea TV, mostly. Affairs. Lots and lots of angst (oh, how I love angst!)
A/N: I’ve never thought I'd write stories about Torres transfer drama. It’s been two years really but our new vice-captain’s news recently just spurred the mood, so it poured out.
Load of loves and thanks to thopix, without her, this story wouldn't be complete.
Just a break from The $64,000 Conundrum, I’ll get back to it after. ;P
Summary: It didn't even hurt at first.
It's Not That I Don't Love You
It didn't even hurt at first.
It shocked him for the most part when he heard it, nobody knew what's going to happen until it actually happened, and when it did happen, nobody knows what the fuck is going on: that's the way it is, it's the way the world goes 'round.
Still, it shocked him.
Because, to be honest, he didn't expect this outcome: he was so confident in himself, too confident, that he didn't prepare for what's actually coming. He had never believed the other would actually choose the opposite. For him, that option was out of the question; he would never consider it twice and he's too sure the Spaniard would do the same.
Apparently, it turned out he didn't.
Not only the Spaniard, but it also stunned him that the club did take the offer, on the last day, only twelve hours left. He knew that's a lot of money, but still, the striker was their only hope. His only hope. Though he's confident that he had convinced him to stay, the club's firm decision was his last resort that he's sure wouldn't let the Spaniard leave.
Apparently, it turned out the club did.
The feeling of shock faded and what flared in his chest far before he realized, still wasn't pain, was seething anger. The way the Spaniard did it was just too insolent Daniel couldn't stand. He didn't get why the Spaniard chose to do something like THAT. Still, with excuses like 'I want to play for a Champion League team to pursue my dream', he still didn't understand. If it was him, he'd never deflect from here to a rival club, any other club in England. Don't have to say that he didn't actually think about moving to any other club AT ALL. He didn't understand why the Spaniard just couldn't choose a club in other leagues, not another Premier League team like Chelsea, because for him, it's a matter of respect to Liverpool which the Spaniard failed to show.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He felt thoroughly betrayed. Fernando LIED to him. He didn't get it, or actually, maybe he didn't want to. HERE is his home, is their home. They're happy here, weren't they? While he had his beautiful wife Sofie and cute son Jamie, and the Spaniard had lovely Ollala, pretty-doll Nora and his newborn angel: Leo, they had Stevie, Pepe, Carra, Martin, and everybody else. But the most important thing was: they had each other. For him, that was more than enough because every time he lay next to the Spaniard and looked into those beautiful brown eyes, he could see the universe. He didn't fucking care about anything else because as long as he had Fernando, he knew he could have the whole world.
That's why Daniel was sitting in his car in front of Que Pasa Cantina, his own restaurant, where they usually met. He's sure the Spaniard's house would be flocked around by journalists, anti-fans as well as policemen, though Fernando was currently in London to sign that fucking new contract with Chelsea. He didn't know why he's even here, he wanted to see the Spaniard and this was the first place that came to mind, the second place was Fernando's house where he usually drove to fetch him if he missed him so much that he couldn't wait a minute more. But now there's no point of him to come here or the Spaniard's home, he wouldn't meet him here nor there; Fernando was gone, had left Liverpool for Chelsea, left Daniel for something better.
He kept asking himself, over and over and over again: 'Why?'
And eventually, he felt hurt.
January 27th, 2011
"Hey," the Dane greeted the Spaniard and smiled widely as opening the door for him. Fernando nodded at him, a bit shyly, and entered the room. "Everything's alright?"
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to sneak up on each other these days?" Fernando took off his hood which was soaked with cold showers. Daniel hated British rain normally especially in winter but these days he even prayed for it to rain harder because it's the only thing that made him see Fernando besides at training: the rain made paparazzi and fans disintegrate fast.
"Then stop making transfer rumours, you know why they follow you," Daniel retorted, sat down on the couch and turned on the telly. He built a large and comfy living room above Que Pasa Cantina for his friends to hang out overnight or other occasions, which he'd put to use more often than not; Fernando was his most common guest here.
The Spaniard slowly walked over to the couch and sat down, didn't reply. The Dane turned to look at him. Fernando was staring at the television but didn't seem to take in anything, his brunet hair was a bit damp from the rain and Daniel felt his heart constrict in a strange sort of way from the blank and bleakness around him. "Hey, what's up?" He asked.
The Spaniard sighed. "I'm tired." He slouched in the couch, head against the backrest, eyes drooped. The defender looked at him in silence for a moment then shifted to rest his head in Fernando's lap. The striker opened his eyes lazily, looking down at him. "You thug puppy," he mumbled coyly.
Daniel smiled his small smile to himself, felt really blissful as watching Sky Sports and having Fernando's fingers carding through his short hair absentmindedly. He's about to doze off when the reporter talked about the transfer window which would be closed in four days.
"Liverpool have just rejected an audacious bid which is believed to be a £40 million offer from Chelsea for Fernando Torres as the champions attempt to kick-start their faltering attempts to strengthen Carlo Ancelotti’s squad before Monday’s transfer deadline. A Liverpool spokesman told us: "Chelsea have made an offer for Fernando, which has been rejected. The player is not for sale.""
The sound of that made Daniel feel relieved, if not for the next sentences:
"Fernando Torres has told Liverpool to sit down and negotiate with Chelsea. The striker has urged the Fenway Sports Group to broker an agreement that is good for both player and club. However, there is not a clause that will allow Torres to unilaterally break his contract in this transfer window-"
"Stop that, Nando," he growled, and the Spaniard stopped carding fingers through his hair. "Chelsea? For fuck's sake! I've told you before-"
"I know," Fernando cut him off, but his voice's rigid and brooked no argument. It's not often that the Spaniard used this tone, he's always a humble and laid-back individual. It's just lately since the transfer drama had started that he looked unsettled that at times he snapped.
Daniel wondered whether he got those snaps from Fernando more often than others because of his persistent nagging on the topic. And though the Dane still wanted to preach him a hundred reasons why he shouldn't transfer to Chelsea, he didn't want to fight with Fernando and ruin the mood. They rarely met up these days and time was too precious to waste on something he had said about a thousand times.
So instead, Daniel snuggled up to the lap he's resting in, closing his eyes and ignoring the reporter, his hand caught the Spaniard's on his head and held it loosely. "Change the channel," he ordered Fernando and felt the Spaniard shift to fetch the remote control while trying his best to not disturb Daniel in his lap. Then he browsed through channels after channels until he paused at one with the sound so much like Star Trek.
Daniel smiled.
Five minutes had passed when the striker called him uncertainly, "Daniel?"
"Hmm?" The Dane murmured drowsily.
"I thought you've fallen asleep. If not, could you please help my legs from falling as well? They're about to."
"If you can give me a pillow, I'll let your legs go," Daniel said stubbornly, then he could feel Fernando look around for pillows.
"Where are they?" He asked when finding none. "You used to have a lot of them here."
"There comes a time when stuff requires sterilization once in a while."
The Spaniard paused. "How about you?"
Daniel scrunched up his nose. "I'm not dirty!" Fernando trailed fingers of his free hand down the Dane's inky arm. He goosebumped.
"A masterpiece of hooligan, that's what you are," he mocked.
"Ooh, girls like bad boys, don't they?"
"Agger, I am not a girl," he said, a bit coy, a bit pissed off.
"And I didn't say you were!" Guffawing good-humoredly, Daniel nuzzled up deeper against the striker's lap. "Though you really act like one."
Fernando snatched the blanket up off the floor and pushed the lump down the defender's face with all his might. Daniel couldn't breathe so he yelled and laughed and struggled to push the Spaniard's hands off at the same time. "Nando, pretty little snowflake, let go of me!"
"Shut. Up," Fernando growled.
January 29th, 2011
"Stop saying that you want to leave!"
Daniel growled as the Spaniard got in his car. The situation was even worse when the transfer window was about to close. There were confusions everywhere: nobody knew anymore which was real, which was rumour, even someone like him who practically lived in Melwood. It's frustrating and Daniel really hated this kind of situation especially after that fucking news about Fernando submitting a transfer request yesterday.
"You don't get me, do you, Daniel?" The Spaniard mumbled. And Daniel leapt at that chance without a second thought, today he wanted a fight.
"Of course, Torres, I don't get you! So that news about the transfer request is true, isn't it?" And when Fernando didn't answer, the Dane felt something clench his heart, though he continued, "Why are you so impatient? Can't you wait until the end of the season? It's just only another six months, Fernando. You don't want to be with us for only a minute longer that you have to leave right fucking now?"
"I don't have time, Daniel," Fernando mumbled.
"Of course you bloody have because I'm gonna talk about this even it takes all day until it knocks some senses into you!"
"No, Dan, I mean I can't wait six months more."
Daniel paused, felt his throat parched. "Why not?"
"We mightn't be as lucky as what Chelsea have offered. It's better to sell me now when they want me and the price is high. If we wait, the club mightn't get this price and in the next six months, Chelsea will sign someone else and would need me no more. Think about it, if the club get that money, they could buy whomever they want."
But what Daniel could hear was something else. "You're afraid that you'll lose the train outta here forever if you don't catch this one."
Fernando took in a deep breath. "What good can I do for the club if we're still like this? I've done my best, given all that I've got. Football is about teamwork, every element counts, but elements Liverpool have now don't reinforce each other, so it might be time to change. Maybe you should think about that, too-"
"Think about what?!" Daniel cut him off, furious. He pulled over to the curb, not sure what he'd do with this rage if he kept on driving. "About doing what you're doing?! Stop your lip service, Torres, you're such a hypocrite. What you actually think about is to get outta this town the fastest you can to any other fucking club that could serve you trophies on silver platters as well as pay you higher."
"The reason I came here from Spain in the first place is to play for Champion League, Daniel, my goal still doesn't change! If you were me right now, won't you do the same?!" The Spaniard was angry, too. It's the first time Daniel remembered Fernando being this furious.
And apparently, it's the last time, too.
"I won't!" The Dane shouted back. "If it was me, I'd never ever think about moving to other clubs in England. It's about respect, Fernando! By moving to Chelsea, you won't only leave Liverpool in the darkest hour, but also turning against them!"
"What choices do I have, Dan?! The other league that is competitive enough for Champion League, has money to invest in me and would want me is Serie A, and I don't want to go to Italy! And I can't go back to Spain, can I? I can't go to Barcelona or Real Madrid. They wouldn't want me, they have their own stars, not to say that I don't want to go there in the first place, they are rivals to Atlético-"
"Oh, don't you know that Chelsea are Liverpool's rival?" He spat. "It's simply an act of betrayal, Nando!"
"If you need to hear, I'll say it," the Spaniard hissed, "that the only club I'm loyal to is Atlético Madrid, have been like that from the start and will never change. Atlético are the club of my life. And you said I betrayed Liverpool, but the club also betrayed me! I've done the best I could to help them but nothing works, nothing's getting better, the club don't give me what I've been promised. They promised me they'd build a team that can be competitive for Champion League again, but after all this time, they signed no one that could improve the situation. I'd be willing to stay longer if I've seen some improvements, if I've been paid off for what I've done. But there's nothing, they lied to me! Don't you realize that they don't have money, Dan? But if they sell me, I can give them that. I don't know how much but I promise it'll be worth it. It's the best and last thing I can do for the club now, as well as the best and last thing they could do for me."
"Nando, for God's sake, there's nothing in this whole fucking world that’s worth giving you up!" Daniel yelled.
"Dan, I can't live like this for the rest of my life, I have dreams! I came to England to pursue it and if Liverpool can't give what I want, what I have to do is just moving on to another club!"
Daniel was shaking with rage. "Is that all Liverpool mean to you? A tool to your success, a mean to your end? Don't you love the club at all?!" Don't you love me at all?
"It's not that I don't love the club," Fernando murmured, his voice shook, and Daniel wondered whether it's because of anger or something else. "But I've had enough of it. We don't have all the time in the world like we thought when we're younger. How long do you think we can keep playing football? We're twenty-six and getting older every day. If it's not now, it might not ever."
"Give me another six months," Daniel insisted. He's calmer now so pulling the car off to continue the route to Que Pasa Cantina. "At least to the end of season. And not to Chelsea or other English clubs."
The Spaniard stared at him. "Have you been listening to me, Daniel?"
"I have." He turned a corner. "And I think you're an asshole who can't wait to turn against the club you've never loved. And also a hypocrite who sweet talked that what you're doing is for the best of the club while actually only thinking about your best interest. Believe me, leaving right now will do you bad rather than good. Do you know what's gonna happen? People will hate you, not only Liverpool's supporters but might as well others', because they'll see you as an epitome of traitor: a Judas."
"I don't fucking care what others are gonna think. They don't get me as well as you bloody don't."
"Oh, you don't care what I'm gonna think about you now?"
Fernando looked at him incredulously. "So this is about you and me then?"
"I'm a part of the club, so yes, this is about me and you."
"Don't be a hypocrite, Agger," Fernando spat. "You've made it personal now, haven't you?"
"If you want to play it like that, fine!" His anger now rose once again. "I don't get it, yes. I don't get anything in your fucking brain! Because, Nando, everybody loves you here, you're their hero. How could you be so cold-hearted to leave them at a time like this if they fucking love you that much? Here, you have family, friends, money, fame. You have me. Fernando, you have almost everything so I don't get why you want to leave!"
"Except titles. What I don't have are titles. Isn't that the most important thing?"
"No! I don't get why you would want to win titles with other clubs, because for me it wouldn't mean anything if I don't win it with Liverpool, it'd mean nothing if I don't win it with you!" He blurted that out before he knew it.
Fernando startled. "Daniel, I am not Liverpool. One player doesn't represent the whole club, I can't. There's a difference between win it with Liverpool and win it with me. That I'm leaving the club isn't the same as I'm leaving you...," he trailed off. There's silence, then,
"You know it's not that I don't love you, right?"
"Then stay," Daniel blurted out, desperately so. "For me, there's no difference: Liverpool are the club of my life, like Atlético Madrid are to you. So if you leave them, it's the same as leaving me, if you betray them, you betray me as well! You're the sunshine of the club, of my life - if you know what I mean." His cheeks burnt with embarrassment, it's unusual that he confessed something like that and he didn't dare looking the Spaniard in the eyes.
"W-What? Daniel, you can't do that. You can't just make your life the club's, they're total different matters! Atlético is THE CLUB OF MY LIFE but they're not MY LIFE, there's a difference-"
"Please," Daniel cut him off, didn't care how pathetic he might sound right now. He'd never begged, and the Spaniard knew this. He'd never thought he'd come so far as this and it'd already broken his heart that he had to beg Fernando to stay. But still: "Six months, that's all I ask. Just, please don't go."
The plea might have caught something in Fernando's heart because after that he's silent for a very long time. The striker kept on staring out the window until the Dane thought he wasn't going to reply. They arrived at his restaurant, Daniel parked and cut the engine off then the Spaniard eventually said in a low voice, answer that made the Dane's heart leap in his chest,
"Alright."
It's already dark outside, they had dinner in a private corner and Daniel tried his best to lighten up the atmosphere with chats and jokes but it's still all gloomy. Though Fernando said he'd accepted the Dane's plea, he's way too quiet than usual like something was still disturbing his mind.
"I'll give you a ride back home," Daniel said when it's quite late. Fernando looked at his watch.
"Can you stay here overnight?" He asked shyly, cheeks red. The Dane's a bit surprised.
"Yeah, sure."
He called Sofie that he'd have a night out. Fernando hadn't stayed over for a very long time. They went upstairs. The couch could be unfolded to bed and Daniel took care of it.
"Daniel," Fernando called. He turned around and the Spaniard's lips caught his.
There're no words after that. Fernando slowly pushed Daniel down on the bed and the Dane held onto the kiss for dear life. The Spaniard's chest was warm on top of his and Daniel felt hotness radiating off Fernando's jeans when their groins ground out. The defender gasped, he broke off the kiss, nibbled the other boy's neck down to his collarbone and the Spaniard's breath hitched. His hands slid to the edge of Fernando's shirt and pulled off. The striker felt for his lips and while he deepened the kiss, shivered, he took off Daniel's shirt as well.
Then they fumbled with each other's jeans and Daniel flipped them over so he'd be on top of the Spaniard. Fernando snuggled up against his shoulder and kissed the tattoo on it. He ran his hands down the Dane's tattooed arms then up through the sides of his muscular body and firm chest, cupped his neck and caressed the elastic skin there provokingly. The defender fumbled for lube which he always stashed away in the drawer of the coffee table. There's something in Fernando's eyes when he looked at Daniel as the Dane entered him but Daniel dismissed it by kissing the striker's cheek for consolation down to his neck then when the Spaniard gasped as he hit his prostate, he went back up to claim those lips once again.
In retrospect, Daniel knew, deep down inside, but he just didn't want to accept it,
That that's how Fernando tell him goodbye.
February 6th, 2011
Burning rage still ate him up inside, like there's a monster in his chest and it slowly gnawed his innards, starting from his heart. They're at Stamford Bridge. It'd been six days that he hadn't talked to Fernando and today wasn't the best occasion after what the Spaniard had given to Chelsea TV on interviews, because it just made him want to punch Fernando even more.
There had been fury and melancholy all over Melwood for the past days and Daniel had been caught up between both because he didn't know which he should feel more. He felt totally betrayed, not only because Fernando left him and the club, but also that he lied to him.
Something churned in his gut, he wanted to puke.
But he couldn't, he couldn't let emotions take over him today. They're having a very important match. Liverpool couldn't lose. This battle meant everything, today it's not about the game anymore, it's about pride. Liverpool had been humiliated enough by not only the striker's deflection but also his loose and heartless tongue. Daniel was hurt, of course, but he wouldn't be this angry if the Spaniard had shut his mouth up before dragging everything down to hell.
The rage had been burning inside him for the past six days, he didn't know when it would die.
A staff came in and told them to line up. Daniel got up reluctantly and following Stevie out of the dressing room. The atmosphere was dull and stressful, nobody talked much except for Kenny, even Stevie. Daniel knew everyone was still in a state of aftershock and wished that what happened wasn't real: they didn't want this match to happen because seeing Fernando in Chelsea's number 9 in the flesh would thrash their delusion. Nonetheless, he also knew that when his teammates realized it wasn't just a nightmare but reality which was way worse, they'd also realize that they had to fight this battle with everything they had. They couldn't lose this game.
Fernando wasn't in the tunnel when Daniel arrived though he tried not to look at anyone in particular. He forced himself to look forward to the game only so he didn't see when the striker came out. He definitely saw him on the pitch, though: the brunet in a deep blue jersey with the lion crest over his heart. It churned Daniel's stomach even more that he had to look away.
The Chelsea squad walked through them for the handshake. It's strange that the Dane felt eventually calm given that the encounter was imminent both the handshake and the game and it’s inevitable for a defender like him to block the Chelsea's striker. Ooh, that word hurts: ‘the Chelsea's striker’. Daniel bit his lip as Fernando walked past him.
The Spaniard looked him in the eyes, but Daniel looked past him, at his hairline but actually seeing nothing. Fernando's hand grasped his and the Dane squeezed it firmly. He released it only after a split-second and the striker looked a bit hurt but he passed on.
The game started and Daniel kept his eyes on the striker all the time. They ran around in the same area trying to defend versus score. Mostly when Fernando got the ball, the crowd would boo, not cheer. A part of him felt sorry for the hatred towards him while a bigger part was so satisfied because the Spaniard fucking deserved it.
Fernando got the ball and Daniel was the nearest Liverpool's defender. It happened too fast: first the Dane focused on the ball at the striker's feet, then he looked up at the Spaniard's face. The striker's attention was to the ball but the Dane's sure he'd noticed him and the carelessness in Fernando's eyes kindled a smoldering fire in his chest.
He punched Fernando's face with his elbow before he realized.
The crowd cheered and the referee blew the whistle to stop the game. Daniel walked away to his teammates, his brows furrowed but his face was calm: carefully hiding real emotions. Cameras were on and he didn't feel like betraying them - these kinds of real emotions - on his face today, or forever. He's expecting a yellow card any minute. The defender didn't look back at Fernando and was surprised when the referee didn't call for him and continued the game like that punch was a complete accident.
Daniel felt like he'd just taken his revenge on Fernando on behalf of all Liverpool's supporters,
And couldn't feel more satisfied when Raul scored a goal for them.
And they won, Liverpool won. Though that's what he'd hoped for, when it actually happened, he's really surprised. Daniel didn't pay attention to their attacks much, all he focused on today was to hinder Fernando from scoring, and then other forwards when the Spaniard was substituted. As they walked into the tunnel, his teammates were so chipper. Martin caught his shoulder and tugged him close. "Mate, that punch was bloody awesome." And the Dane smiled.
That night they came back to Liverpool and celebrated at Que Pasa Cantina. Daniel hadn't been to his restaurant for almost a week since the Spaniard had left because he knew if he saw that room, his mind would drift back to the last night they'd spent together, as well as other nights, which Daniel didn't want to think about because, well, it bloody hurts.
As the night wore on, they're drunk. Maxi and Dirk were slouching, arms around each other's shoulders and singing 'You'll Never Walk Alone'. The Dane was tipsy, he snatched up his phone and thought about calling Sofie that he'd stay here overnight, she might whine a bit because he also did that last week with-
Fuck.
Before he knew it, the contact he dialed wasn't Sofie.
It rang four times before the other end picked up.
"Hello."
Daniel took in a deep breath, he didn't know why he called, he had nothing to say and didn't feel like apologizing for the thing he did today, but he wanted to hear Fernando's voice.
Just that.
"Hello."
There's silence, and the Dane knew he had to say something because he's the one who called, so:
"How's your nose?"
Daniel could almost imagine Fernando snort. "It's not broken, so I guess it's fine."
There's silence once again.
"Are you happy now?"
The striker was bewildered. "What?"
"You weren't happy before, that's why you left, were you?" Daniel could even taste the bitterness of his words in his mouth.
Fernando was silent, then, "I couldn't stick there forever," was all he said.
"Why did you have to lie?" Daniel blurted out, and Martin who's sitting next to him turned around baffledly. The Dane got up, gestured to the Slovak that he'd be excused for a minute and walked to the back of the restaurant.
The striker's silence was too long this time and the Dane knew he didn't have an answer for this. He paced up the stairs. "Because I didn't want to fight with you." Fernando's voice when he eventually spoke was shaking around the edge. "I've told you, Dan, I have to go."
"You don't love me enough to stay, do you?"
And there're a lot of emotions churning inside him at that moment: anger, sorrow, incomprehension, desperation, yearning. He arrived at the living room upstairs and as holding the door open, the first thing that caught his eyes was the bed.
It looked the same as he'd left it on Sunday's morning: astray pillow on the nearby floor, rumpled blanket on the couch and the room's still reek of sex. The sight stopped him on the threshold and he felt a lump in his throat.
"Daniel." Fernando took in a deep breath though his voice was shaking for real now. "If you love me, you have to let me go."
He felt like that sentence shattered him into shreds, his head's blank and his eyes were blurry. He heard what Fernando said afterwards but he didn't want to understand.
"So that doesn’t mean I don't love you, Daniel."
The Dane cut the line, he didn't want to hear anything from those lips anymore, he guessed he'd had enough. Absentmindedly, he walked into the room, stared at the bed before sitting down on it. He lifted the blanket and could smell Fernando all over it. The Dane buried his face in the soft but cool cotton fabric.
And then he cried.
August 20th, 2013
"It's a difficult feeling to describe," he said after having been asked about his recent vice-captaincy. "Not many people have the success to become a professional footballer and not many people get the vice-captaincy, so that's a big, big thing for me, of course. But it's so difficult to describe."
Daniel was sitting in a room in Melwood for an interview with LFC TV. He's blissfully happy.
"What do you see your responsibilities as vice-captain be?" The interviewer asked.
"I always have responsibility, no matter if you're vice-captain or not. You have to always be there, always be at the front and, of course, try to help some of the young players."
"Every captain has a different style, we've seen that here at Liverpool. How would you describe your style?"
"Now I have been here for almost seven and a half, eight years, and Stevie has been the captain all the way. He is an amazing captain: he is the one I will look at. Not only in his football skills, because that speaks for itself, but the person he is and the way he treats people - he's just the best."
"So would you try to emulate Steven's captaincy style?"
"Obviously I'm not the captain, but when I play for Denmark and I'm the captain for Denmark, I've learned a lot in the last ten years of my career. I'm trying to take the best part of all the good things, also from Stevie, and put it together in the way I want to do it. I think that's the best way to describe that."
He smiled, he smiled all the time. He's really elated for the vice-captainship he'd just earned, it's a real honour especially from a club with rich history like Liverpool and he didn't mind displaying real emotions which he'd always reserved to the whole Liverpool's supporters today. So when the interviewer asked, "Well, you are now, vice-captain. As you mentioned, you've been at the club for seven, nearly eight years. You have the YNWA tattoo. So what does Liverpool Football Club mean to Daniel Agger?" he smiled goofily and responded,
"Do we have time for that?"
Daniel stopped by a café for a cup of take-away coffee after getting out of Melwood before continued walking along a street of Liverpool. The sun shone over the harbour city today: a rare and excellent sign of English summer. He closed his eyes, tilted his head up to the sky and deeply inhaled the smell of coffee and Liverpool basking in the sun.
The last time he scented something like this was almost three years ago, as he woke up entangled in the blanket one day with sunlight streaming in through an open window.
It's summer and the weather was warm. The wind carried in the scent of harbour city with almost-a-thousand years of history under summer's bright sun while the room was saturated with the smell of coffee. He inhaled deeply and found that besides those odors, he could still smell Fernando all over the bed.
The Dane opened his eyes and stretched lazily on the sofa-bed. He heard snickers behind so he turned around.
Fernando was sitting at a table, sipping coffee contentedly while looking at the defender. He's only in boxers and his eyes showed mischief burying deep under usual shyness. The Dane smiled his just-woken-up smile, nodded at the cup in the Spaniard's hand and teased, "Don’t bother, I'll just get my ass up and make another cup myself. Oh, what a very good lover you are."
Fernando giggled. "I'm flattered, but don't bother. If you want some of this, get your ass up and come here."
Daniel quirked up his brow. "How could I do that and not be bothered?" He shifted to lie on his side, propping his head in his hand. "You come here."
The striker pouted, but after a moment of staring contest, got up and walked over to the bed. The Dane smiled wolfishly then lunged to catch Fernando's hips with both arms. The Spaniard almost stumbled onto bed but he held his coffee cup high and steady. Luckily, it didn't spill.
"Daniel!" He yelped good-humoredly. The defender snuggled up against his nape and took in a deep breath, his blond hair smelled like Daniel's favourite shampoo and it mixed just too perfectly with the smell of coffee and Liverpool city basking in the summer sun.
Fernando turned around, a shy yet happy small smile flickered on his lips when he leaned in to kiss him.
Daniel opened his eyes.
The crowd bustled around him and at that moment the reminiscing spell broke. The Dane took in a deep breath and resumed walking.
That's a long time ago.
They'd chosen different paths: the blue one versus the red one. To leave versus to stay. Barcelona had been paying attention to him lately but the club had rejected the offer and instead named him the new vice-captain of Liverpool Football Club to hinder his further moves. Barcelona were obviously a big club, but he'd never thought about leaving Liverpool.
Never.
Unless the club wanted to sell him, transfer had never ever crossed his mind. He even had YNWA tattoo on the back of his fingers. Frankly, he didn't mind if they didn't finish in the top four this season, the next, or even forever. He didn't want to go to another club and win titles with them: it wouldn't mean anything if he didn't win it for Liverpool, for the club he loved.
And he loved this club.
He's a loyal person, just like that.
But he wasn't angry at Fernando anymore. He’d learnt that everybody had different reasons, different dreams. Fernando's dream wasn't here, so he had to leave and keep on pursuing.
But Daniel's dream was here, so he needn't go anywhere.
He rarely met Fernando these days: twice a year, at least, when Liverpool had matches against Chelsea. It's a bit strange to see him in blue shirts, and it's still strange until these days but Daniel eventually got over it. He had wished him all the best. He hoped Fernando's dream would actually come true one day, whatever he'd wished for.
The smell of coffee and Liverpool under the sun still pervaded around him, but what absent was the scent of Fernando.
The sudden wistful thinking churned his gut a bit, but Daniel dismissed it fast and moved on.
Until we meet next time, then.
And that doesn’t mean I don’t still love you.
The End
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