The Bet - part 2
TITLE: The Bet - part 2/3. ( Here is the first part.)
RATING: R, I guess - for violence.
PAIRING: Francesco Totti/Pavel Nedvěd
WARNING: Very angsty. Perhaps the most "graphical" angst I did so far. Uhm. Yes.
DISCLAIMER: I don't know them, and definitely don't own them. I'm just borrowing them for a while, because I'm a worthless liar.
PROMPT: I suppose this could be 02. Home for footballslash11. The full challenge table is here.
WORD COUNT: 1532.
He opened his eyes, slowly, almost like he didn't want to wake up. At the very least, sleep had been of the heavy kind. Almost like he was passed out rather than asleep. But now, every memory from last night came back - fast, like a hard blow to the face.
The off-white wall reminded him of where he was, even before he became awere of anything else. Suddenly, the room felt too small - like it threatened to suffocate him. He needed to breathe, to get away from this place which was already all too full of memories, even though he had spent only this one night here.
There was silence now. Silence, except for Francesco's breathing, right next to him. Peaceful breathing now. Pavel couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand how it was possible to sleep like that. Not now. Not after last night.
The thought caused another wave of memories. His throat constricted, reminding him that breathing still caused pain after the strangling attempt that had started everything. Suddenly, he felt an intense hatred - for Francesco, but maybe even more for himself.
He had to get out of here.
Now.
He turned in his bed, carefully trying to get up. The movement caused sharp pain, and he choked back the sound that formed in his throat, before collapsing on the bed again. Clenching his fist around the sheet, he tried to find the strength to make another attempt at getting up. The grip around the sheet tightened for a moment, but this time he actually managed to get up, and even reach for his clothes. With careful, small movements, he put them on. One piece at a time, not caring that his shirt was ripped in places. It didn't matter, as long as it could still hide the bruises and cuts on his body.
Slowly, he tried to stand up. It took a moment to even find his balance, and he felt like he would collapse again any moment. He didn't even have the strength to stand on his feet.
Only the willpower. The one thing that couldn't be broken.
* * *
He took a couple of small steps, careful at first, then more confident when he was sure that his feet would still hold him up. There was still the same silence as before. Good. Pavel preferred it that way - he didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. Francesco least of all.
The guy behind the reception desk gave him a dirty look on the way out. Pavel turned away quickly, not wanting to meet the gaze. The look still seemed to burn against his skin, though, like another reminder of the shame he felt in that moment.
He swallowed hardly when he became aware that he was actually shaking. With an automatic motion, he pulled the jacket tighter around himself, before hiding the trembling hands in his pockets. It felt safer that way. Besides, his hand found a little piece of paper in his pocket. He clenched his fingers around it, so hard that it probably crumpled a bit, but he didn't even notice.
A plane ticket back to safety.
* * *
- Why don't you just call him if this is so incredibly important to you?
Gigi had problems with keeping his annoyance from showing in his voice. He tried to speak in a flat and sort of considerate tone, just to avoid upsetting Ale further, but it was more difficult by the minute. In his personal opinion, Ale was exaggerating to the point that it was not even funny anymore. There was just no good reason to be that worried.
«I already did. He turned off his phone, so all I get is the answer machine». Ale shrugged and tried to sound calm, but the worry was still written clearly across his face.
«Yes, of course.» Gigi couldn't keep the annoyed tone away from his voice any longer. But just a moment later, he seemed to calm down a bit, changing the topic deliberately. «You didn't sleep much last night. Try to sleep for a bit, and call him again later, okay?» he said, putting an arm around Ale's shoulders in an attempt to lead him back to bed. The sleep would be much needed, surely.
Ale accepted, half-gratefully and half-dejectedly.
* * *
Pavel didn't actually remember the flight that clearly. It felt like the last few hours had just passed by without his presence. Even at the airport, when he actually had to talk to a couple of people, he did it without focusing on the task at hand, and without remembering a word of the conversation only a moment after it had finished.
In one way, it seemed a miracle that he was home now. Miles and miles away from Rome and the memories from last night, but unfortunately only so if measured in distance - not if measured in memory intensity.
He hated the feeling of Francesco's hands against his skin already from the first moment. That much too confident, much too greedy sort of touch - giving so little, taking so much. But perhaps, he hated it even more in this moment - hated the way he felt trapped, helpless now.
The grip was harder than before, the intense panic more paralyzing than he could ever have imagined. He bit his lip against the sudden pain. First, only to brace himself against the searing agony, then a second time - so hard that he could taste blood on his tongue a moment later.
If only that had been the only blood to be drawn that night. Maybe then, he wouldn't be quite that devastated. Not quite that broken. For a moment, he just stood still with his eyes closed, trying to force himself to think about something else. But even then, the frightening pictures were still clear in his mind.
If anything, he needed a shower. And then, perhaps just a pillow and blanket, so he didn't have to look anyone in the eyes. Anymore.
* * *
The phone rang.
The sound seemed distant, and Pavel didn't care about it.
He also didn't care that the water was too hot; burning against his skin when he stood under it. At least it still didn't burn like the cuts on his body. Still fresh, even if they weren't bleeding anymore. Deep enough that there would be lasting scars, like an eternal reminder of his own stupidity, because he had accepted an unnecessary bet a while ago.
The quick blink of silver had been a surprise - such a shock that he didn't have time to truly understand the consequences. For a brief moment, he caught Francesco's eyes. The look there would have been enough to scare him, even if Francesco had not been holding a small knife between his fingers.
So full of determination. So cold, and so clearly unaffected by this whole, insane situation.
The water stung against his skin, but he didn't care. At least the sound of running water was sort of calming, sort of comforting. It would be easy, just looking up, just hiding behind that sound until he wouldn't notice anything else. Or nothing at all, after a while. But of course, courage failed him in that moment, and only the now familiar, terrified feeling remained when he turned off the water.
Just in time to hear the phone ringing in another room.
He still couldn't care less.
***
«There is no honest and fair way you could have won that award!» Francesco's voice was harder now, like he was trying to make a point and prove the truthfulness of his accusations. Pavel had heard them all before, so he didn't answer. There was just no point in arguing over this silly, several years old topic.
Francesco quickly shifted the grip on the knife in his hand, so fast that it was almost unnoticeable. However, Pavel still froze at the touch of steel against his throat. It was just a light touch, but more than enough that he could feel his body freezing and his heart beating faster.
«Tell me what you did in exchange for all those votes? How many of the judges did you sleep with? Two? Four? Say it, but I want the truth!»
The knife pressed harder against his skin as Francesco spoke, leaving a visible mark on the skin already. Just a bit more pressure now, and… Pavel couldn’t even let the thought form completely - it was too scary, too dangerous. Right then, he had the feeling that Francesco was angry beyond control.
One mistake now - and it could be the final one?
«Just two.» The lie gave him a foul taste in his mouth, tears forming in his eyes at that moment; the mental stress and physical pain finally too much for him.
He almost didn’t hear Francesco’s triumphant scream. «I knew it! Such a whore, you are!»
The memories were a blur after that; harsh words, blows to his face, a couple of long cuts on his chest. He was just barely conscious then - too broken to be able to even feel the fear anymore.
Because this was all he ever deserved.
Right?
RATING: R, I guess - for violence.
PAIRING: Francesco Totti/Pavel Nedvěd
WARNING: Very angsty. Perhaps the most "graphical" angst I did so far. Uhm. Yes.
DISCLAIMER: I don't know them, and definitely don't own them. I'm just borrowing them for a while, because I'm a worthless liar.
PROMPT: I suppose this could be 02. Home for footballslash11. The full challenge table is here.
WORD COUNT: 1532.
He opened his eyes, slowly, almost like he didn't want to wake up. At the very least, sleep had been of the heavy kind. Almost like he was passed out rather than asleep. But now, every memory from last night came back - fast, like a hard blow to the face.
The off-white wall reminded him of where he was, even before he became awere of anything else. Suddenly, the room felt too small - like it threatened to suffocate him. He needed to breathe, to get away from this place which was already all too full of memories, even though he had spent only this one night here.
There was silence now. Silence, except for Francesco's breathing, right next to him. Peaceful breathing now. Pavel couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand how it was possible to sleep like that. Not now. Not after last night.
The thought caused another wave of memories. His throat constricted, reminding him that breathing still caused pain after the strangling attempt that had started everything. Suddenly, he felt an intense hatred - for Francesco, but maybe even more for himself.
He had to get out of here.
Now.
He turned in his bed, carefully trying to get up. The movement caused sharp pain, and he choked back the sound that formed in his throat, before collapsing on the bed again. Clenching his fist around the sheet, he tried to find the strength to make another attempt at getting up. The grip around the sheet tightened for a moment, but this time he actually managed to get up, and even reach for his clothes. With careful, small movements, he put them on. One piece at a time, not caring that his shirt was ripped in places. It didn't matter, as long as it could still hide the bruises and cuts on his body.
Slowly, he tried to stand up. It took a moment to even find his balance, and he felt like he would collapse again any moment. He didn't even have the strength to stand on his feet.
Only the willpower. The one thing that couldn't be broken.
* * *
He took a couple of small steps, careful at first, then more confident when he was sure that his feet would still hold him up. There was still the same silence as before. Good. Pavel preferred it that way - he didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. Francesco least of all.
The guy behind the reception desk gave him a dirty look on the way out. Pavel turned away quickly, not wanting to meet the gaze. The look still seemed to burn against his skin, though, like another reminder of the shame he felt in that moment.
He swallowed hardly when he became aware that he was actually shaking. With an automatic motion, he pulled the jacket tighter around himself, before hiding the trembling hands in his pockets. It felt safer that way. Besides, his hand found a little piece of paper in his pocket. He clenched his fingers around it, so hard that it probably crumpled a bit, but he didn't even notice.
A plane ticket back to safety.
* * *
- Why don't you just call him if this is so incredibly important to you?
Gigi had problems with keeping his annoyance from showing in his voice. He tried to speak in a flat and sort of considerate tone, just to avoid upsetting Ale further, but it was more difficult by the minute. In his personal opinion, Ale was exaggerating to the point that it was not even funny anymore. There was just no good reason to be that worried.
«I already did. He turned off his phone, so all I get is the answer machine». Ale shrugged and tried to sound calm, but the worry was still written clearly across his face.
«Yes, of course.» Gigi couldn't keep the annoyed tone away from his voice any longer. But just a moment later, he seemed to calm down a bit, changing the topic deliberately. «You didn't sleep much last night. Try to sleep for a bit, and call him again later, okay?» he said, putting an arm around Ale's shoulders in an attempt to lead him back to bed. The sleep would be much needed, surely.
Ale accepted, half-gratefully and half-dejectedly.
* * *
Pavel didn't actually remember the flight that clearly. It felt like the last few hours had just passed by without his presence. Even at the airport, when he actually had to talk to a couple of people, he did it without focusing on the task at hand, and without remembering a word of the conversation only a moment after it had finished.
In one way, it seemed a miracle that he was home now. Miles and miles away from Rome and the memories from last night, but unfortunately only so if measured in distance - not if measured in memory intensity.
He hated the feeling of Francesco's hands against his skin already from the first moment. That much too confident, much too greedy sort of touch - giving so little, taking so much. But perhaps, he hated it even more in this moment - hated the way he felt trapped, helpless now.
The grip was harder than before, the intense panic more paralyzing than he could ever have imagined. He bit his lip against the sudden pain. First, only to brace himself against the searing agony, then a second time - so hard that he could taste blood on his tongue a moment later.
If only that had been the only blood to be drawn that night. Maybe then, he wouldn't be quite that devastated. Not quite that broken. For a moment, he just stood still with his eyes closed, trying to force himself to think about something else. But even then, the frightening pictures were still clear in his mind.
If anything, he needed a shower. And then, perhaps just a pillow and blanket, so he didn't have to look anyone in the eyes. Anymore.
* * *
The phone rang.
The sound seemed distant, and Pavel didn't care about it.
He also didn't care that the water was too hot; burning against his skin when he stood under it. At least it still didn't burn like the cuts on his body. Still fresh, even if they weren't bleeding anymore. Deep enough that there would be lasting scars, like an eternal reminder of his own stupidity, because he had accepted an unnecessary bet a while ago.
The quick blink of silver had been a surprise - such a shock that he didn't have time to truly understand the consequences. For a brief moment, he caught Francesco's eyes. The look there would have been enough to scare him, even if Francesco had not been holding a small knife between his fingers.
So full of determination. So cold, and so clearly unaffected by this whole, insane situation.
The water stung against his skin, but he didn't care. At least the sound of running water was sort of calming, sort of comforting. It would be easy, just looking up, just hiding behind that sound until he wouldn't notice anything else. Or nothing at all, after a while. But of course, courage failed him in that moment, and only the now familiar, terrified feeling remained when he turned off the water.
Just in time to hear the phone ringing in another room.
He still couldn't care less.
***
«There is no honest and fair way you could have won that award!» Francesco's voice was harder now, like he was trying to make a point and prove the truthfulness of his accusations. Pavel had heard them all before, so he didn't answer. There was just no point in arguing over this silly, several years old topic.
Francesco quickly shifted the grip on the knife in his hand, so fast that it was almost unnoticeable. However, Pavel still froze at the touch of steel against his throat. It was just a light touch, but more than enough that he could feel his body freezing and his heart beating faster.
«Tell me what you did in exchange for all those votes? How many of the judges did you sleep with? Two? Four? Say it, but I want the truth!»
The knife pressed harder against his skin as Francesco spoke, leaving a visible mark on the skin already. Just a bit more pressure now, and… Pavel couldn’t even let the thought form completely - it was too scary, too dangerous. Right then, he had the feeling that Francesco was angry beyond control.
One mistake now - and it could be the final one?
«Just two.» The lie gave him a foul taste in his mouth, tears forming in his eyes at that moment; the mental stress and physical pain finally too much for him.
He almost didn’t hear Francesco’s triumphant scream. «I knew it! Such a whore, you are!»
The memories were a blur after that; harsh words, blows to his face, a couple of long cuts on his chest. He was just barely conscious then - too broken to be able to even feel the fear anymore.
Because this was all he ever deserved.
Right?