Supposed 5 things fic!
Title: 5 3 times Stevie and Xabi Broke Up
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso
Rating: PG
Warning: Uh... Look at the title.
Word Count: 2, 211
Disclaimer: Just a fragment of my imagination.
Summary: Title = Summary
Notes: For
m0rnizstar, whom I promised this kinda longgggg time ago. XD Here it is now. =)) I wanted to get this beta-ed, but decided not to in the end. Anyways, I hope you guys don't kill me for writing this, take it like I'm pleading with you. XD
---
001;
You are back in your own country for a few days already; your father had been in a car accident, so you took a few days off at Melwood. You walk down the steps of the house where you spent your childhood. You remember playing on these same steps with your brothers, playing with a football. You three were always getting into trouble together, with the ball, smashing glass ornaments or flower vases you mother had put on display. Football was a game you loved as a child and it was because of football that you'd travelled all the way to England. And it was because of this sport, that you'd met Steven Gerrard.
You pull out a chair at the dining table while you greeted your mother. She and your father had lived in the house for as long as you could remember. She poured you a cup of coffee and you look up to thank her. She smiles warmly at you, the same smile that you would never forget. You study her features, and you noticed the wrinkles on the edge of her eyes, which weren't there the last time you'd seen her. You smile back and she ruffles your hair as if you were the young boy years ago. You chuckle, but don't resist her touch.
"The newspapers are in the hall." She said, her back turned towards you while you take a sip from your cup. You answer her with a muffled "yes".
You stood up to get the newspapers, but stopped immediately when you saw your older brother in the doorway of the kitchen, holding the papers in his hand.
"Looking for this, little brother?" He asked with a smirk on his face while he walked in and pulled a chair.
"Thanks," You say while he sets it on the table. You reach for it, but as your hands near the papers, he pulls them away, laughing. An irritated look spreads across your face.
"Give it," You say, trying to look angry. But a second later, a smile spreads across your face. You snatch the papers from him, laughing. You flip through the daily news, scanning through the Spanish-written pages. You set the current section of the papers down and pick up the sports section.
"You might not want to read that." Mikel said from across the table. You raise an eyebrow.
"And why would I not?" You ask.
"Have it your way." He said, going back to his breakfast.
You open the newspaper, and it greeted you with a shock. You understood why Mikel said those words before you read the papers; the headlines read, "Liverpool captain Steven Gerrard leaving for Chelsea". You think your eyes are playing tricks on you. You take a sip from your cup and look back again. The words stared back at you, as if forcing the truth down your throat. You set the papers down on the table roughly, crushing them in the midst.
You rush up to your room, picking up your cellphone from the bedside table and flopping yourself onto your bed in one swift action. You dial the number you dialled so often that you didn't need to see the number pad to type it in. "Hello?" came the familiar scouse accent.
"Stevie? Is it true? Tell me it's not true!" You shout into the phone, tears forming at the edge of your eyes.
You hear him sigh deeply on the other line. "I'm sorry, Xabi. I'm sorry."
"Don't tell me you're sorry!" You begin to wonder why he has decided to leave you, why he has decided to go to Chelsea when he'd once said he'd live and breathe Liverpool forever. You hear a moan on the other line, then a faint "Who is that?" You could not have mistaken that voice. That voice that you hear on the pitch, whenever you play against Chelsea. It was unmistakably Frank Lampard. You could contain the tears no more. They began to flow freely, tumbling down your face, drop after drop after drop. You drop the phone on the carpeted floor, no wanting to listen anymore. The pieces began to fall into place, and you know why he left now. You lay in bed, and all you could remember was Mikel entering your room and holding you tight, hushing you.
---
002;
You punch the number you know all too familiar. Putting the phone to your ear, you look towards the sky, hoping that it wouldn't reach his voice mail again. The phone rings. "Stevie?" You blurt out even before the line gets through, but nobody answers on the other end, and you are directed to his mailbox again. You nearly scream in frustration at the fact that even though this was the 5th time you'd called him, he still hasn't picked up the phone. You stuff your phone into your pocket and walk back down the path to your house.
At home, you try calling again, but only to be redirected back to his mailbox, again. You feel like screaming aloud. Why won't he pick up your calls? You take a deep breath, then tried again. You slowly punch in the numbers, and then press the dial button. You wait patiently to get through, and when he picks up on the other line.
"Hello?"
"Stevie?" You say. "Stevie why didn't you pick up the phone? I called you--"
"Hey, um, Xabi? I can't really talk now. I'm kind of busy." He replies. You feel anger rising up in you.
"What? Stevie, I called you so many times and now you say-"
"Look Xabi, I've got something on. I'm sorry I can't-" He doesn't get to finish his sentence as it was cut of by something else in the background. You hear Alex's shrill call for Stevie. You hear Stevie sigh. "I'm sorry Xabi." He says softly. "I'll call you-"
"Are you avoiding me, Stevie?" You ask suddenly. "Why haven't you picked up my calls? I try calling you everyday, but you just won't pick up!" You hear him sigh on the other end.
"Xabi, I've been.. I've been busy. I just need a break, I just need to take a breather. I've heard the rumours, 'bout you going to Barca and all and I just.... And Alex. She just..." He takes a deep breath, and then he says, "Xabi, Alex and I are getting married in the summer." You thought you heard wrongly, that your ears were playing tricks on you. But when did ears play tricks? It was only the eyes.
"So that's what you've been busy with? Planning for your wedding with her? So that's why you haven't been picking up my calls?" You ask, no, you scream into the phone. You feel the tears filling your eyes. He takes yet another deep breath. "Yes." He says.
~
You call your agent to meet with the agent from Barca. And you meet them both after a few days.
"Xabi, are you sure about this?" He asks. You give a firm nod before penning down your signature on the contract. After a few more days of packing, you're on your flight to Barcelona.
---
003;
You see Frank come out of the Spanish dressing room as you walk down the corridor. You felt your breath get stuck in your throat; you disliked how Frank looked at you. You hated how his eyes shifted up and down your body since you'd woken up naked, and with a bad hangover in your bed only a few days ago. You didn't think much of it, but Frank had been staring at your almost everytime. You feel the worms twisting in your stomach as another worry enters your mind. Wouldn't Frank find it weird that I'm going to the Spanish dressing room? The room rested at the end of a corridor, there was no where else you could be going. You carry on walking, trying to avoid Frank's gaze at you. You feel his eyes on you, and you quickly walk past him without saying anything. You turn around to see him disappear round the corridor.
You walk on and into the room at the end. You open the door quietly, poking your head in. You see him sitting alone on the bench, staring down at the floor. You knock a little, but he doesn't say anything. You walk in and stood in front of him.
"Xabi?" You say quietly. He snaps out of whatever he was thinking of.
"Huh? Oh, hey Stevie." He says, then springs up from his seat and hurriedly packs his bags. You eyes him suspiciously, he was usually the more alert one between you both and it was hard to catch him off guard.
"Xabi?" You begin. "Is anything wrong?"
He shakes his head. "No, no. Everything's fine." He says quickly. You got the feeling as if he was avoiding you. With a raised eyebrow, you approach him. You put your hand on his shoulder and turn him around, willing him to look at you.
"Tell me, Xabi." You say. "I know when there's something wrong. You're all flustered today. Is it something I did during the match?" You stare straight into his face, only to see his eyes shifting around, avoiding yours.
"N-Nothing, Stevie. I told you, nothing's wrong with me." He says, and this time, he lifted his head and looked straight into your eyes. You stare back, unknowingly moving closer and closer to his face. Your lips touch and you press yours against his. He closes his eyes, and you could feel him sighing against you. His body relaxes as your hands slide to his hips. As you pull at his shirt, you feel his hands on your shoulders. Before your next move, he slowly pushes you away. You look at him questioningly.
"Xabi.....??"
He looks at you with saddened brown eyes, then picks up his bag and walks out on you. You watch him through out, eyes wide with shock.
~
You pull your car into the lot, then made your way to the front door. You look around to make sure no one was around, and then gently lifted the flowerpot resting on the shoe rack. A little key sat hidden beneath it. You took the key, then slot it into the keyhole and twisting it. It was dark inside, but the door to Xabi's room, which was left ajar, emitted a dim light. You close the door silently, wanting to surprise the Spaniard. You hoped to be able to cheer him up, to make him happy after what happened after the match.
You creep up the stairs to his room as quietly as you could. You stood beside the door, ready to push it open and surprise him, ready to --
"You won't believe it Iker." You hear him say. You push the door slightly open so you could see what was happening in there. Iker and Xabi sat on the floor, both lying against Xabi's bed. Emptied cans of beer lay beside them. Xabi's cheeks were flushed, and Iker..... Well, you couldn't see Iker as his back was facing the door. You have an urge to go in, but part of you forced you to stay where you were and listen to the other part of the conversation.
"He came in..." Xabi began before hiccupping once, then twice. "And he smirked at me! He smirked at me Iker!" A grin spread across your face, even though you did not know whom the 'he' Xabi was talking about. In you heart you knew that Xabi was so proud, so proud he could not stand anyone smirking at him. You were so lost in your thoughts, that by the time you'd regained your proper self, the truth came smacking towards you.
"... and he out rightly claimed he'd slept with Stevie!" You hear him say. You looked at him in horror. Now you knew why Frank kept looking at you since that day. You feel your face turn red and hot and your heart beat quickly. And as quickly as the truth about your sleeping with Frank hit you, you watch Iker lean closer and closer to Xabi. Their lips brushed against each other and Iker pressed his on Xabi's. You feel dizzy, and your heart felt like combusting anytime. You want to get out of the house, to wake up from this nightmare you thought, no, wished you were in. You want all this to be erased. You had meant to stumble backwards, but, somehow, you'd tripped over your own legs and stumbled forward instead. Iker jumped, turned around and their kiss broke. A dead drunk Xabi moaned, as if wanting for more. Iker stared at you.
"Steven, how'd you get--" Before he finished what he was about to say, you dashed out of the room, your heart still beating fast, your head spinning. In the darkness, you bump into one of Xabi's cabinets, and you hear the sound of glass breaking, but you don't bother to turn back. You run out of the house. It was raining outside, but you don't bother to get into your car and drive home. You just ran aimlessly.
---
Again, I hope you guys won't kill me for this!
Pairing: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso
Rating: PG
Warning: Uh... Look at the title.
Word Count: 2, 211
Disclaimer: Just a fragment of my imagination.
Summary: Title = Summary
Notes: For
m0rnizstar, whom I promised this kinda longgggg time ago. XD Here it is now. =)) I wanted to get this beta-ed, but decided not to in the end. Anyways, I hope you guys don't kill me for writing this, take it like I'm pleading with you. XD
---
001;
You are back in your own country for a few days already; your father had been in a car accident, so you took a few days off at Melwood. You walk down the steps of the house where you spent your childhood. You remember playing on these same steps with your brothers, playing with a football. You three were always getting into trouble together, with the ball, smashing glass ornaments or flower vases you mother had put on display. Football was a game you loved as a child and it was because of football that you'd travelled all the way to England. And it was because of this sport, that you'd met Steven Gerrard.
You pull out a chair at the dining table while you greeted your mother. She and your father had lived in the house for as long as you could remember. She poured you a cup of coffee and you look up to thank her. She smiles warmly at you, the same smile that you would never forget. You study her features, and you noticed the wrinkles on the edge of her eyes, which weren't there the last time you'd seen her. You smile back and she ruffles your hair as if you were the young boy years ago. You chuckle, but don't resist her touch.
"The newspapers are in the hall." She said, her back turned towards you while you take a sip from your cup. You answer her with a muffled "yes".
You stood up to get the newspapers, but stopped immediately when you saw your older brother in the doorway of the kitchen, holding the papers in his hand.
"Looking for this, little brother?" He asked with a smirk on his face while he walked in and pulled a chair.
"Thanks," You say while he sets it on the table. You reach for it, but as your hands near the papers, he pulls them away, laughing. An irritated look spreads across your face.
"Give it," You say, trying to look angry. But a second later, a smile spreads across your face. You snatch the papers from him, laughing. You flip through the daily news, scanning through the Spanish-written pages. You set the current section of the papers down and pick up the sports section.
"You might not want to read that." Mikel said from across the table. You raise an eyebrow.
"And why would I not?" You ask.
"Have it your way." He said, going back to his breakfast.
You open the newspaper, and it greeted you with a shock. You understood why Mikel said those words before you read the papers; the headlines read, "Liverpool captain Steven Gerrard leaving for Chelsea". You think your eyes are playing tricks on you. You take a sip from your cup and look back again. The words stared back at you, as if forcing the truth down your throat. You set the papers down on the table roughly, crushing them in the midst.
You rush up to your room, picking up your cellphone from the bedside table and flopping yourself onto your bed in one swift action. You dial the number you dialled so often that you didn't need to see the number pad to type it in. "Hello?" came the familiar scouse accent.
"Stevie? Is it true? Tell me it's not true!" You shout into the phone, tears forming at the edge of your eyes.
You hear him sigh deeply on the other line. "I'm sorry, Xabi. I'm sorry."
"Don't tell me you're sorry!" You begin to wonder why he has decided to leave you, why he has decided to go to Chelsea when he'd once said he'd live and breathe Liverpool forever. You hear a moan on the other line, then a faint "Who is that?" You could not have mistaken that voice. That voice that you hear on the pitch, whenever you play against Chelsea. It was unmistakably Frank Lampard. You could contain the tears no more. They began to flow freely, tumbling down your face, drop after drop after drop. You drop the phone on the carpeted floor, no wanting to listen anymore. The pieces began to fall into place, and you know why he left now. You lay in bed, and all you could remember was Mikel entering your room and holding you tight, hushing you.
---
002;
You punch the number you know all too familiar. Putting the phone to your ear, you look towards the sky, hoping that it wouldn't reach his voice mail again. The phone rings. "Stevie?" You blurt out even before the line gets through, but nobody answers on the other end, and you are directed to his mailbox again. You nearly scream in frustration at the fact that even though this was the 5th time you'd called him, he still hasn't picked up the phone. You stuff your phone into your pocket and walk back down the path to your house.
At home, you try calling again, but only to be redirected back to his mailbox, again. You feel like screaming aloud. Why won't he pick up your calls? You take a deep breath, then tried again. You slowly punch in the numbers, and then press the dial button. You wait patiently to get through, and when he picks up on the other line.
"Hello?"
"Stevie?" You say. "Stevie why didn't you pick up the phone? I called you--"
"Hey, um, Xabi? I can't really talk now. I'm kind of busy." He replies. You feel anger rising up in you.
"What? Stevie, I called you so many times and now you say-"
"Look Xabi, I've got something on. I'm sorry I can't-" He doesn't get to finish his sentence as it was cut of by something else in the background. You hear Alex's shrill call for Stevie. You hear Stevie sigh. "I'm sorry Xabi." He says softly. "I'll call you-"
"Are you avoiding me, Stevie?" You ask suddenly. "Why haven't you picked up my calls? I try calling you everyday, but you just won't pick up!" You hear him sigh on the other end.
"Xabi, I've been.. I've been busy. I just need a break, I just need to take a breather. I've heard the rumours, 'bout you going to Barca and all and I just.... And Alex. She just..." He takes a deep breath, and then he says, "Xabi, Alex and I are getting married in the summer." You thought you heard wrongly, that your ears were playing tricks on you. But when did ears play tricks? It was only the eyes.
"So that's what you've been busy with? Planning for your wedding with her? So that's why you haven't been picking up my calls?" You ask, no, you scream into the phone. You feel the tears filling your eyes. He takes yet another deep breath. "Yes." He says.
~
You call your agent to meet with the agent from Barca. And you meet them both after a few days.
"Xabi, are you sure about this?" He asks. You give a firm nod before penning down your signature on the contract. After a few more days of packing, you're on your flight to Barcelona.
---
003;
You see Frank come out of the Spanish dressing room as you walk down the corridor. You felt your breath get stuck in your throat; you disliked how Frank looked at you. You hated how his eyes shifted up and down your body since you'd woken up naked, and with a bad hangover in your bed only a few days ago. You didn't think much of it, but Frank had been staring at your almost everytime. You feel the worms twisting in your stomach as another worry enters your mind. Wouldn't Frank find it weird that I'm going to the Spanish dressing room? The room rested at the end of a corridor, there was no where else you could be going. You carry on walking, trying to avoid Frank's gaze at you. You feel his eyes on you, and you quickly walk past him without saying anything. You turn around to see him disappear round the corridor.
You walk on and into the room at the end. You open the door quietly, poking your head in. You see him sitting alone on the bench, staring down at the floor. You knock a little, but he doesn't say anything. You walk in and stood in front of him.
"Xabi?" You say quietly. He snaps out of whatever he was thinking of.
"Huh? Oh, hey Stevie." He says, then springs up from his seat and hurriedly packs his bags. You eyes him suspiciously, he was usually the more alert one between you both and it was hard to catch him off guard.
"Xabi?" You begin. "Is anything wrong?"
He shakes his head. "No, no. Everything's fine." He says quickly. You got the feeling as if he was avoiding you. With a raised eyebrow, you approach him. You put your hand on his shoulder and turn him around, willing him to look at you.
"Tell me, Xabi." You say. "I know when there's something wrong. You're all flustered today. Is it something I did during the match?" You stare straight into his face, only to see his eyes shifting around, avoiding yours.
"N-Nothing, Stevie. I told you, nothing's wrong with me." He says, and this time, he lifted his head and looked straight into your eyes. You stare back, unknowingly moving closer and closer to his face. Your lips touch and you press yours against his. He closes his eyes, and you could feel him sighing against you. His body relaxes as your hands slide to his hips. As you pull at his shirt, you feel his hands on your shoulders. Before your next move, he slowly pushes you away. You look at him questioningly.
"Xabi.....??"
He looks at you with saddened brown eyes, then picks up his bag and walks out on you. You watch him through out, eyes wide with shock.
~
You pull your car into the lot, then made your way to the front door. You look around to make sure no one was around, and then gently lifted the flowerpot resting on the shoe rack. A little key sat hidden beneath it. You took the key, then slot it into the keyhole and twisting it. It was dark inside, but the door to Xabi's room, which was left ajar, emitted a dim light. You close the door silently, wanting to surprise the Spaniard. You hoped to be able to cheer him up, to make him happy after what happened after the match.
You creep up the stairs to his room as quietly as you could. You stood beside the door, ready to push it open and surprise him, ready to --
"You won't believe it Iker." You hear him say. You push the door slightly open so you could see what was happening in there. Iker and Xabi sat on the floor, both lying against Xabi's bed. Emptied cans of beer lay beside them. Xabi's cheeks were flushed, and Iker..... Well, you couldn't see Iker as his back was facing the door. You have an urge to go in, but part of you forced you to stay where you were and listen to the other part of the conversation.
"He came in..." Xabi began before hiccupping once, then twice. "And he smirked at me! He smirked at me Iker!" A grin spread across your face, even though you did not know whom the 'he' Xabi was talking about. In you heart you knew that Xabi was so proud, so proud he could not stand anyone smirking at him. You were so lost in your thoughts, that by the time you'd regained your proper self, the truth came smacking towards you.
"... and he out rightly claimed he'd slept with Stevie!" You hear him say. You looked at him in horror. Now you knew why Frank kept looking at you since that day. You feel your face turn red and hot and your heart beat quickly. And as quickly as the truth about your sleeping with Frank hit you, you watch Iker lean closer and closer to Xabi. Their lips brushed against each other and Iker pressed his on Xabi's. You feel dizzy, and your heart felt like combusting anytime. You want to get out of the house, to wake up from this nightmare you thought, no, wished you were in. You want all this to be erased. You had meant to stumble backwards, but, somehow, you'd tripped over your own legs and stumbled forward instead. Iker jumped, turned around and their kiss broke. A dead drunk Xabi moaned, as if wanting for more. Iker stared at you.
"Steven, how'd you get--" Before he finished what he was about to say, you dashed out of the room, your heart still beating fast, your head spinning. In the darkness, you bump into one of Xabi's cabinets, and you hear the sound of glass breaking, but you don't bother to turn back. You run out of the house. It was raining outside, but you don't bother to get into your car and drive home. You just ran aimlessly.
---
Again, I hope you guys won't kill me for this!