Yours is the first face that I saw (I think I was blind before I met you)
gerard piqué/cesc fabregas (aka fabriqué), 1025 words.
wow! I wrote in English after a long time, or what feels like a really long time anyway. It's weird because I always read books in English and stuff, but then I open OpenOffice and I'm like "meh, I'm too lazy to write in English". So. I hope there aren't too many mistakes!?
Also, I wrote Fabriqué after two years and a half. wow. I'm not sure if this is going to be a thing, like a series of other kids fic? Because I love writing about kids. So yeah, we'll see.
Sorry about the dumb Pep thing, I guess.
(per Preci e Nemi, as usual. <3) (e anche a Marti che mi aveva scritto che avrei dovuto scrivere altre fic su di loro, perdona il ritardo!) (vabbeh avete capito: le dedico tutte alla stessa gente)
"Geri, we need to go, we're going to be late." Gerard sat on the ground, pouting, that face his mom knew meant he was about to cry. "What's wrong, sweetie?" She asked, worried. He couldn't have changed his mind now, after he spent years dreaming about this day.
"I don't want to go," he answered, whining. Something must have happened during that day that she wasn't aware of, so she knelt down, and took Gerard's hands in hers. He looked down, avoiding his mom's gaze.
"Why? You haven't talked about anything else for days, and now you don't want to go?" He shook his head in response. "Your dad is already here, if we don't show up he will be really sad."
"He can play instead of me," Gerard suggested, letting go of his mom's hands in his. He folded his arms across his chest, while his mom laughed. He didn't find his sentence so funny, but he learned that sometimes adults laughed at what he said for now reason at all, so this one must have been one of those moments.
"Your daddy is too old to try out with other kids your age, you know?"
"But I don't want to go anyway." His mom sighed. They were late already, and it seemed it would have taken some other time to convince Gerard to go. They certainly wouldn't have made a first good impression.
"Why?" She asked.
"Because I don't know anyone, and I'm sure they are all better than me," Gerard explained, on the verge of tears now.
"How do you know if you've never met the other kids?"
"Today when I told my friends about this at school, Felip and Gabriel told me they will never take him.”
"You know what, my love?" His mom sat on the ground in front of him, "they said that because they're jealous, you're good enough to try out with Barcelona and they're not."
"Really?" Gerard eyes widened, surprised to hear that, and a bit relived that his friends weren't actually speaking the truth.
"Yes, dear. And when you'll make it to first team they'll both say how close you all were when you went to school together. And you'll laugh at them because they'll need to pay tickets to go to Camp Nou while you're playing there." Gerard's expression finally changed, he wasn't pouting anymore, and he was smiling a little now, imagining the bright future ahead of him.
"Okay, let's go!" He jumped on his feet, heading for the door.
For the whole time in the car, he sang Tot el camp, es un clam... and for a moment his mother regretted the decision to take him to the try out. But she was glad that his son was in a good mood again. Nothing made him happier than football and Barcelona.
"Ehy, all the other kids are inside already, where were you?" His dad asked when they finally arrived at the field near Camp Nou. It was a sunny day and Gerard had to squint to see his father, standing in the middle of the parking lot, looking a bit worried.
"He changed his mind earlier, he said he would have never made it because of some stupid classmates," his mother answered, and Geri explained that Felip and Gabriel would have cried in front of the television when he would have made it to first team and played with Pep Guardiola. His dad laughed.
"That's the spirit, son!" He said, ruffling his son's hair. “But I'm afraid Pep will not play when you'll get to the first team.”
“Why not?”
“Well, he will probably be old enough to be your coach,” he answered, and Geri was confused. He couldn't see Pep as a coach. Coaches were old people!
“Ok, let's go inside,” the mom said, taking Geri's hand and distracting him from the thought of Pep as a coach. What if he would have met him, one day? He saw him at Camp Nou, of course, but not that close.
“Hurry, hurry, we're late, Francesc.” apparently they weren't the only one being late, because they heard another mom coming out of a car just behind them in the parking lot.
“Mom I hate when you call me like that,” the boy named Francesc complained.
“Call you like what, exactly? That's your name, don't be silly!” She then noticed Gerard and his family. “Oh, look, Francesc, we're not the only one being late.” She laughed.
Geri waved to the other kid and asked: “Why don't you like your name? It's nice!” He had a classmate named Francesc but he moved away recently, and he was a very funny boy. Maybe this Francesc was really funny too.
“Because my dad has the same name! I like Cesc better,” he explained.
“Cesc is very nice, too. I'm Gerard, but not like my father.”
“And do you like your name?” Cesc asked.
“Mh,” Gerard said, thoughtful, putting his index finger on his lips. “No, I think I like Geri better.”
“Ok, Geri,” he said, and Gerard shook his hand like adults always did.
“Do you think we will meet Pep one day?” Geri asked then, out of the blue.
“Pep is my favourite!” Cesc said with enthusiasm.
“And-” Gerard started to say, because he wanted to ask his new friend about all the players in the team, before his mom interrupted him.
“Kids? It's time to go inside.”
He then remembered they were late already, what if they wouldn't have let them in? So he took his mom's hand, and they all headed inside the building.
“I hope they will take us,” Cesc said, smiling at Gerard, while his mom dragged him inside.
“I hope it too.” Gerard smiled back.
He thought that Cesc was so much better than Felip and Gabriel because he didn't say mean things, he actually seemed like a very nice person and said kind things to him. He thought that he would have been really sad if he made it to the team and Francesc who wanted to be called Cesc didn't, because he was sure they were going to become really good friends.
wow! I wrote in English after a long time, or what feels like a really long time anyway. It's weird because I always read books in English and stuff, but then I open OpenOffice and I'm like "meh, I'm too lazy to write in English". So. I hope there aren't too many mistakes!?
Also, I wrote Fabriqué after two years and a half. wow. I'm not sure if this is going to be a thing, like a series of other kids fic? Because I love writing about kids. So yeah, we'll see.
Sorry about the dumb Pep thing, I guess.
(per Preci e Nemi, as usual. <3) (e anche a Marti che mi aveva scritto che avrei dovuto scrivere altre fic su di loro, perdona il ritardo!) (vabbeh avete capito: le dedico tutte alla stessa gente)
"Geri, we need to go, we're going to be late." Gerard sat on the ground, pouting, that face his mom knew meant he was about to cry. "What's wrong, sweetie?" She asked, worried. He couldn't have changed his mind now, after he spent years dreaming about this day.
"I don't want to go," he answered, whining. Something must have happened during that day that she wasn't aware of, so she knelt down, and took Gerard's hands in hers. He looked down, avoiding his mom's gaze.
"Why? You haven't talked about anything else for days, and now you don't want to go?" He shook his head in response. "Your dad is already here, if we don't show up he will be really sad."
"He can play instead of me," Gerard suggested, letting go of his mom's hands in his. He folded his arms across his chest, while his mom laughed. He didn't find his sentence so funny, but he learned that sometimes adults laughed at what he said for now reason at all, so this one must have been one of those moments.
"Your daddy is too old to try out with other kids your age, you know?"
"But I don't want to go anyway." His mom sighed. They were late already, and it seemed it would have taken some other time to convince Gerard to go. They certainly wouldn't have made a first good impression.
"Why?" She asked.
"Because I don't know anyone, and I'm sure they are all better than me," Gerard explained, on the verge of tears now.
"How do you know if you've never met the other kids?"
"Today when I told my friends about this at school, Felip and Gabriel told me they will never take him.”
"You know what, my love?" His mom sat on the ground in front of him, "they said that because they're jealous, you're good enough to try out with Barcelona and they're not."
"Really?" Gerard eyes widened, surprised to hear that, and a bit relived that his friends weren't actually speaking the truth.
"Yes, dear. And when you'll make it to first team they'll both say how close you all were when you went to school together. And you'll laugh at them because they'll need to pay tickets to go to Camp Nou while you're playing there." Gerard's expression finally changed, he wasn't pouting anymore, and he was smiling a little now, imagining the bright future ahead of him.
"Okay, let's go!" He jumped on his feet, heading for the door.
For the whole time in the car, he sang Tot el camp, es un clam... and for a moment his mother regretted the decision to take him to the try out. But she was glad that his son was in a good mood again. Nothing made him happier than football and Barcelona.
"Ehy, all the other kids are inside already, where were you?" His dad asked when they finally arrived at the field near Camp Nou. It was a sunny day and Gerard had to squint to see his father, standing in the middle of the parking lot, looking a bit worried.
"He changed his mind earlier, he said he would have never made it because of some stupid classmates," his mother answered, and Geri explained that Felip and Gabriel would have cried in front of the television when he would have made it to first team and played with Pep Guardiola. His dad laughed.
"That's the spirit, son!" He said, ruffling his son's hair. “But I'm afraid Pep will not play when you'll get to the first team.”
“Why not?”
“Well, he will probably be old enough to be your coach,” he answered, and Geri was confused. He couldn't see Pep as a coach. Coaches were old people!
“Ok, let's go inside,” the mom said, taking Geri's hand and distracting him from the thought of Pep as a coach. What if he would have met him, one day? He saw him at Camp Nou, of course, but not that close.
“Hurry, hurry, we're late, Francesc.” apparently they weren't the only one being late, because they heard another mom coming out of a car just behind them in the parking lot.
“Mom I hate when you call me like that,” the boy named Francesc complained.
“Call you like what, exactly? That's your name, don't be silly!” She then noticed Gerard and his family. “Oh, look, Francesc, we're not the only one being late.” She laughed.
Geri waved to the other kid and asked: “Why don't you like your name? It's nice!” He had a classmate named Francesc but he moved away recently, and he was a very funny boy. Maybe this Francesc was really funny too.
“Because my dad has the same name! I like Cesc better,” he explained.
“Cesc is very nice, too. I'm Gerard, but not like my father.”
“And do you like your name?” Cesc asked.
“Mh,” Gerard said, thoughtful, putting his index finger on his lips. “No, I think I like Geri better.”
“Ok, Geri,” he said, and Gerard shook his hand like adults always did.
“Do you think we will meet Pep one day?” Geri asked then, out of the blue.
“Pep is my favourite!” Cesc said with enthusiasm.
“And-” Gerard started to say, because he wanted to ask his new friend about all the players in the team, before his mom interrupted him.
“Kids? It's time to go inside.”
He then remembered they were late already, what if they wouldn't have let them in? So he took his mom's hand, and they all headed inside the building.
“I hope they will take us,” Cesc said, smiling at Gerard, while his mom dragged him inside.
“I hope it too.” Gerard smiled back.
He thought that Cesc was so much better than Felip and Gabriel because he didn't say mean things, he actually seemed like a very nice person and said kind things to him. He thought that he would have been really sad if he made it to the team and Francesc who wanted to be called Cesc didn't, because he was sure they were going to become really good friends.