fic: to catch a shooting star
title: to catch a shooting star
pairing: timo/lahmi
rating: pg
words: 650
summary: "you wonder if this is what it’s like to hold a star in your arms."
notes: for di. :) because you were the first person to really get me into following the german players.
You watch him from the sidelines. Intense and brilliant on the pitch, you wish more than anything that you could be out there with him. You want to feel the rush of adrenaline and anxiety that comes every time you step onto the pitch under the scrutiny of the fans. You want to share this experience with him. As it is you are not on the pitch but sitting on the bench with your callused fingers pressed against your mouth as the match begins. The World Cup opener.
You want him to do well. You want him to shine out on the pitch today and the rest of the tournament in front of the crowd, the media, and the rest of the watching world because it’s what he deserves. You’ve always known it; with never a doubt in your mind.
Vibrations run through your body and you’re not sure of the cause. It could the noise from the crowd, your teammates bouncing nervously on the bench beside you, or your own nervous heart as your eyes follow Philipp as he runs. You see Jens come into view as he stands in between the goalposts and for a moment you can’t help the burst of longing that runs through your veins. You want to be out there. And if you choose to believe Philipp’s words to you last night, you deserve to be. But you aren’t on the pitch, slapping your gloved hands together, and closely following every movement of the football. And because of it, you are allowed too much time to think. Your thoughts turn to where they have so often these past few weeks. To Philipp.
Before you can become too embroiled in your thoughts and imaginings however, you see a football sent sailing through the air and into the corner of the goal, hitting the back of the net. And you know that it’s come from Philipp’s foot. The stadium roars and you immediately jump to your feet. Excited hugs are exchanged with the rest of the players on the bench but you aren’t sure who it is that you are gripping. You’re not able to focus on their faces. Instead your gaze follows Philipp as he runs across the pitch with Torsten and Bastian trailing behind him, attempting to grasp hold of him. To catch a shooting star.
You watch him, blood pumping but feeling forgotten on the sidelines. But then he’s running and eluding everyone’s clutches on the pitch with his teeth gleaming as he smiles wide. He’s jogging off the pitch and you know that he’s coming to you. You open your arms and then he’s there; captured and held in your arms. A warm presence that you hold close to your body. You wonder if this is what it’s like to hold a star in your arms.
“Timo,” he says. It’s a fervent gasp against your cheek as you pick him up with a smile on your face. His breath is warm and damp against your skin and you wish you could hold onto him for eternity but Michael is standing next to you with his own congratulations and you know that the game must continue on. It’s only the sixth minute of the match. He leaves your arms but offers you a last glimpse of his grin before he’s being hugged again by someone else and running back onto the pitch. And he’s leaving you behind once again.
One day you may be brave enough to tell him how you feel, you say to yourself as you turn back around to sit on the bench. Watching from the sidelines once again. But you know deep down that you never will. You can’t risk losing his friendship. So you tell yourself that this will be enough. These brief and ephemeral moments when the world can wait and it’s just the two of you.
pairing: timo/lahmi
rating: pg
words: 650
summary: "you wonder if this is what it’s like to hold a star in your arms."
notes: for di. :) because you were the first person to really get me into following the german players.
You watch him from the sidelines. Intense and brilliant on the pitch, you wish more than anything that you could be out there with him. You want to feel the rush of adrenaline and anxiety that comes every time you step onto the pitch under the scrutiny of the fans. You want to share this experience with him. As it is you are not on the pitch but sitting on the bench with your callused fingers pressed against your mouth as the match begins. The World Cup opener.
You want him to do well. You want him to shine out on the pitch today and the rest of the tournament in front of the crowd, the media, and the rest of the watching world because it’s what he deserves. You’ve always known it; with never a doubt in your mind.
Vibrations run through your body and you’re not sure of the cause. It could the noise from the crowd, your teammates bouncing nervously on the bench beside you, or your own nervous heart as your eyes follow Philipp as he runs. You see Jens come into view as he stands in between the goalposts and for a moment you can’t help the burst of longing that runs through your veins. You want to be out there. And if you choose to believe Philipp’s words to you last night, you deserve to be. But you aren’t on the pitch, slapping your gloved hands together, and closely following every movement of the football. And because of it, you are allowed too much time to think. Your thoughts turn to where they have so often these past few weeks. To Philipp.
Before you can become too embroiled in your thoughts and imaginings however, you see a football sent sailing through the air and into the corner of the goal, hitting the back of the net. And you know that it’s come from Philipp’s foot. The stadium roars and you immediately jump to your feet. Excited hugs are exchanged with the rest of the players on the bench but you aren’t sure who it is that you are gripping. You’re not able to focus on their faces. Instead your gaze follows Philipp as he runs across the pitch with Torsten and Bastian trailing behind him, attempting to grasp hold of him. To catch a shooting star.
You watch him, blood pumping but feeling forgotten on the sidelines. But then he’s running and eluding everyone’s clutches on the pitch with his teeth gleaming as he smiles wide. He’s jogging off the pitch and you know that he’s coming to you. You open your arms and then he’s there; captured and held in your arms. A warm presence that you hold close to your body. You wonder if this is what it’s like to hold a star in your arms.
“Timo,” he says. It’s a fervent gasp against your cheek as you pick him up with a smile on your face. His breath is warm and damp against your skin and you wish you could hold onto him for eternity but Michael is standing next to you with his own congratulations and you know that the game must continue on. It’s only the sixth minute of the match. He leaves your arms but offers you a last glimpse of his grin before he’s being hugged again by someone else and running back onto the pitch. And he’s leaving you behind once again.
One day you may be brave enough to tell him how you feel, you say to yourself as you turn back around to sit on the bench. Watching from the sidelines once again. But you know deep down that you never will. You can’t risk losing his friendship. So you tell yourself that this will be enough. These brief and ephemeral moments when the world can wait and it’s just the two of you.