Fic: in a different world
Title: In a different world
Characters: Steven Gerrard/(Xabi Alonso) (But you can make your own characters, as they’re not named.
Summary: Steven woke up and found himself in a different country, where the culture and language is very different. He doesn’t know what he did, but a girl helps him remember that he escaped.
Rating: PG
A/N: So, the country is Malta, and the strange language is Maltese. For translations, go to the bottom of the page. The girl is described as I am, including her house and room. The other people are real people. The street is my street. So the place is not made up. I was walking today and thought of this fic. I tried a ‘different’ kind of fic, so please be kind and comment about it. I wrote this to remove the stress and excitement of tonight’s game and because time is too slow. Btw, this is crap *headdesk* but I wanted to post it. Also, this is unbeta’ed. Sorry if it annoys you. All mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: If Steven is at Malta, and I met him, I wouldn’t be her. This is fiction. But the girl belongs to me, as it is me lol.
You open your eyes and find yourself in a place you don't know how to describe. You were on a marble doorstep, behind you a wooden door and in front of you a cream car. Ford fiesta, you read, looking inside it. Now you're walking, passing people who look at you, some are whispering, others just staring. You notice that they’re staring at everyone, not only you. Curious people, you think.
Dirty street, full of holes and rubbish on the road. You are surrounded by buildings, some of them dirty as the street, others worse. You look into another car, a Manchester United towel is on the seat.
So I’m in England, you think but you’re wrong. Your hear people passing by talking in a strange language;
“Ara dak, kemm jixbah il-dak il-player emmm… tal-football… x’jismu bhalissa?” says a young woman in her early twenties, with a baby in her hand and the other pointing at you without caring if she’s being rude or not.
You understand just too words: “Player and football”. Both concern you, have something to do with you. You try to remember but fail. You know that you must be somewhere else, not here. You must be in England, playing with your team and being with your family. Family… There’s something missing in your love life. Family, football…
“U mela jien nara il-football? X’jinteressani?” replies the other girl laughing, looking away from you. They begin giggling,
You stop walking and decide to ask someone what is this place. Too rude you think. There’s a short, tanned, muscled guy, working in a garage.
“Sorry, can I ask you something?” you ask politely.
“X’hix, man?” he replies without looking at you.
You, confused, asked him: “You know English?”
“English? U hallina man, ghandi x’naghmel ta`,” he says roughly. He continues to work, not caring if you’re still there or not.
You give up and walk away, desperate to know what the hell this country is. You stop again when you find the name of the street:
St. Henry Street
Triq San Neriku
A young teen stops by your side as she watches you frowning at the street name.
“You need help?” she asks politely.
She has long reddish brown hair which is in front of her eyes. You look at her and you can sense that she’s different from the other girls you saw. She’s smiling at you and you looked at her, confused. You’re still unsure whether to tell her or not about whom you are. You decide that for now, you’ll tell her you’re lost.
“I’m kinda lost,” you reply rubbing your face.
“You look horrible…” you looked at her, slightly offended, but more confused, “Sorry, I didn’t mean you look ugly or something, but you surely need a bath cause you seem like a those poor man who go around begging for money.”
You look into a car mirror and agree with her, you look horrible and unrecognizable. Maybe that’s why they didn’t recognize you, which means you still have to go around like this. You need to call someone now, you need explanation. Memories are flooding back. Him. You’re here and it’s his fault.
“I need to make a call but I’m-”
“Come to my house,” she replies and she’s already walking to the other side of the street.
She stops by the marble doorstep you were on and when she grabs her keys you mumble: “That’s where I was when I woke up.”
“What!?” she asks frowning.
“Nothing, go on,” you tell her. You don’t want to tell any details now. You look at the sky which is full of grayish clouds, and think about someone. Yeah, now you remembered him. Life is so empty-
“Come,” she says and you enter in a dark hall. Your eyes fall on the frames which are hung on one side of the wall. In the first frame there’s a girl in a violet outfit with a lady which is wearing a hat and a suit. It must have been an important occasion you think. The girl was surely the same one that was in front of you, she still has the same smile. You look at the three frames which are in the middle of the wall. There are two boys, wearing the same shirt and shorts, and a baby girl, wearing a white dress. You briefly at the other frames and you take that she has two brothers.
“You’re curious,” she remarked as she began to climb the stairs.
“Uh-yeah.”
When you’re on the second floor she asks you if you want something to drink. You nod and she enters in a room, which you suppose it the kitchen, from where she brings two glasses and a bottle of orange juice. You follow her as she climbs the stairs once again and when you’re on the third floor she stops. You look around, noticing that there are four doors and a computer in front of a door. That door has a Roma badge attached on it and it’s the door she moves towards to. Italian?
When you enter the room you don’t believe your eyes: Roma posters on the wardrobe and wall, few Chelsea posters on the opposite wall and Liverpool posters on the other wall. There’s even an Arsenal player hung, and on the bed there are some Real Madrid pictures too. You feel strange, seeing yourself ‘famous’ again, at the center of attention.
“Who do you support!?” you ask, your eyes still wide, staring at every poster, your eyes then resting on his poster.
She grinned widely while replying: “Roma! But I kinda like Liverpool, Chel-”
“Okay, okay, I got it from the posters.”
You sit on the bed slowly while she pours some orange juice in the glasses.
“How did you get here?” she asks.
“I don’t know, and that’s what’s killing me. All I remember is I wanted to escape from my problems. And-”
“What problems?”
“You’re curious.”
She looked at you, then at a poster. Your eyes follow hers, and you see she’s looking at your poster.
“I’ll help you,” she said and she went to bring the phone.
Memories flooded back. His house. Fight. Your car. Pub. Your car. Airport. Tickets. Escape. Taxi. “To a bar please.”
“Oh gosh,” you mutter.
“What?” she asks.
“I’ll tell you what happened,” you replied.
When she’s back, you were going to ask her what country is this. But then you remember… So you began.
“I don’t know how this began, I don’t even know how did it happen but I felt strange. Loving a team-mate is surely strange. Man with man, two famous footballers. We play for a big team, we are considered as idols. Problems are created, because we’re both in a relationship, I have kids. I have a family. My team-mates are getting suspicious and the media is not stupid. We promised nothing will change, no matter what. If he loves me, and I love him, we’ll make love every time we can. Because even if it’s male with male, we belong to each other.”
You stop and take a breath, you heart is beating fast and you feel your blood running.
“But that night, he didn’t keep his promise. He told me that we have to stop this. All because his girlfriend is pregnant and a fan told him ‘and what about him’… Him, referring to me.”
You stop again and sigh, tears forming in your eyes.
“I drove away, far away. Stopped by a bar, got some beer and drove to an airport. Thanks to me being famous, I got a ticket easily. I didn’t know what destination it was, I was destroyed emotionally and mentally. I just wanted to escape. Escape. Escape. It felt ohhh so right. When I…I…”
You put your head in your hands and begin sobbing. You wanted to escape from him, because he hurt you and you miss him. You want him all yours, but you can’t.
She bites her lips, not knowing what to do. She pats your back and you stop sobbing.
You continue: “I arrived in Malta and called a taxi. Yeah, my friend told me that in Sliema there are some good hotels and a good bar named ‘the step-down bar’. Good bar because the man is okay. That’s the only city I knew so I told him Sliema, stop near the step-down bar. I went there, a man with a grey pony-tail greeted me and I drank. I don’t remember how I, but I guess I slept on your doorstep.”
She is speechless. You managed to confuse her. Your eyes are still red but you stopped crying.
“The step-down bar is just around the corner,” she says to inform you. “And thanks to Lord that my family are all on vacation.”
“Oh.”
Silence. About five minutes of silence.
“Go on, phone him,” she says finally. She got up and motioned you to follow her. She leads you up the roof and she leaves. You look around, the cordless phone in your left hand. You hesitate before dialing his number.
Shall I?
You dial and it rings.
“Hello?”
You don’t talk. What the hell am I doing?
“Where are you? I miss you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean those words. Forgive me, I was a bastard.”
You still don’t talk. Talk, please, talk, you beg yourself.
“Forgive me, please, I beg you, return here.”
You hung up and look at the dark sky. There’s only some the moonlight visible now, it’s already night. You feel lost. You don’t understand why you didn’t reply, or why did you hung up. But you know one thing: he hurt you too much. For once, your mind dominated your body, and it beat your heart. Yeah, your heart lost, and you mind won, because when you remember that night, your heart breaks.
“Go away,” he said.
“Why?”
“She’s pregnant for God’s sake!”
“But… But…”
“No buts this time, sorry. Just leave and we’ll live happy with our families.”
“BUT YOU PROMISED ME THAT WE WILL NEVER CHANGE A THING BETWEEN US,” you shouted.
“But we have to change, everyone is suspecting!”
“What the hell!? You said, ‘no, no one can ever change a thing between us until we love each other’…”
He didn’t reply.
“Wait… Don’t… Don’t tell me… You don’t love me anymore?”
He didn’t reply and you convinced yourself that he doesn’t love you anymore.
“THAT’S IT THEN! You don’t fookin’ love me anymore more! Go on, tell me! I’ll leave you in peace, go on tell me.”
“I don’t-”
He didn’t finish the sentence, you were already running out. What you don’t know is that he ended saying: “-wanna say it, coz it’s not true!”
You’re still looking up at the sky and the moon. You’re missing him, and you feel him. He’s missing you too. But you don’t care. You’re sacrificing everything, but it’s your final decision. You’ll begin a new life.
I still love you…
TRANSLATIONS:
Ara dak, kemm jixbah il-dak il-player emmm… tal-football… x’jismu bhalissa? - Look at that guy, he looks like that player emmm... of football... what's his name?
U mela jien nara il-football? X’jinteressani? - Do you think I watch football? What do I care?
X’hix, man? - What, man?
English? U hallina man, ghandi x’naghmel ta` - English? Leave me man, I have lots of things to do
-The end... Comments are love.