the breath that passed from you to me.
Five things Xabi wants to tell Stevie
For diskarte.
1.
I love you. I didn't say it enough, maybe. Neither of us did. I guess we thought it was understood, that we wouldn't be doing this if we didn't. And that's true. And that's why I couldn't regret it, not ever. I don't. I'm so glad, that I could know you, that I could love you like that. For a while. Regardless of everything.
Part of me always will.
2.
Thank you. For being amazing, for being all that you are, all that they see you as, and for being none of it. For still being that ten-year-old boy with big dreams and a big heart. For being young, even when you weren't, and hopeful, when there wasn't much reason to be at all. Thank you for your quiet perception, and the few words that meant more than anything else could some times. Thank you for showing me that it's alright to be uncertain, to be vulnerable, to be flawed, sometimes. Thank you for showing me that the odds can be overcome, that sometimes your flaws are your greatest strengths. Thank you for showing me what real beauty is.
3.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye properly. I guess I don't like goodbyes. Or maybe it was because I know how much you hate them. I didn't want you to have to deal with another one. I should have, though. I regret that. I think, now, about what I would have done if I did. (Maybe I would've kissed your forehead like you used to kiss mine. Like you used to before you went back home to your wife, both an apology and a sign of reassurance. I don't think you realised how much some of the small things you did meant, but I always did. Maybe it was because you were always too concerned about the big things. And I understand. Maybe I would've kissed you like you kissed me in Istanbul. But there's still no going back.)
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you. I'm sorry I couldn't stay forever. I wanted to. God, you know I did. I want to. I still want to.
4.
It's not better. The World Cup. It's not better. It's not the same, either. I just - it's not. I used to dream about it; we all did, I guess. But it's not what I dream about now. It won't be what I close my eyes and think about when I'm old and grey and recollecting the greatest night of my life. I can't change that. And I don't want to.
5.
I want you to be happy. I want you to be happy more than anything. And I know you're grateful for what you have, what you had. But I know, too, that it won't be complete - your happiness won't be complete, your life won't - until you win number nineteen, until you press your lips to an impossibly warm silver cup again, until you feel that mad, indescribable, almost supernatural, and so, so red rush again, that rush - not just adrenaline and blood pumping but thousands of hearts overflowing with the purest joy ever known.
I know you'll be unfinished without it, that it's there like a hole inside of you, that you can try to forget about it sometimes but there's still always a dull ache where something is meant to be.
(There's another hole maybe, too. One where I used to be.)
» Five things Stevie wants to tell Xabi.
For diskarte.
1.
I love you. I didn't say it enough, maybe. Neither of us did. I guess we thought it was understood, that we wouldn't be doing this if we didn't. And that's true. And that's why I couldn't regret it, not ever. I don't. I'm so glad, that I could know you, that I could love you like that. For a while. Regardless of everything.
Part of me always will.
2.
Thank you. For being amazing, for being all that you are, all that they see you as, and for being none of it. For still being that ten-year-old boy with big dreams and a big heart. For being young, even when you weren't, and hopeful, when there wasn't much reason to be at all. Thank you for your quiet perception, and the few words that meant more than anything else could some times. Thank you for showing me that it's alright to be uncertain, to be vulnerable, to be flawed, sometimes. Thank you for showing me that the odds can be overcome, that sometimes your flaws are your greatest strengths. Thank you for showing me what real beauty is.
3.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye properly. I guess I don't like goodbyes. Or maybe it was because I know how much you hate them. I didn't want you to have to deal with another one. I should have, though. I regret that. I think, now, about what I would have done if I did. (Maybe I would've kissed your forehead like you used to kiss mine. Like you used to before you went back home to your wife, both an apology and a sign of reassurance. I don't think you realised how much some of the small things you did meant, but I always did. Maybe it was because you were always too concerned about the big things. And I understand. Maybe I would've kissed you like you kissed me in Istanbul. But there's still no going back.)
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you. I'm sorry I couldn't stay forever. I wanted to. God, you know I did. I want to. I still want to.
4.
It's not better. The World Cup. It's not better. It's not the same, either. I just - it's not. I used to dream about it; we all did, I guess. But it's not what I dream about now. It won't be what I close my eyes and think about when I'm old and grey and recollecting the greatest night of my life. I can't change that. And I don't want to.
5.
I want you to be happy. I want you to be happy more than anything. And I know you're grateful for what you have, what you had. But I know, too, that it won't be complete - your happiness won't be complete, your life won't - until you win number nineteen, until you press your lips to an impossibly warm silver cup again, until you feel that mad, indescribable, almost supernatural, and so, so red rush again, that rush - not just adrenaline and blood pumping but thousands of hearts overflowing with the purest joy ever known.
I know you'll be unfinished without it, that it's there like a hole inside of you, that you can try to forget about it sometimes but there's still always a dull ache where something is meant to be.
(There's another hole maybe, too. One where I used to be.)
» Five things Stevie wants to tell Xabi.