Football Slash: It's Not My Right to Stay (Bikey)
Title: It's Not My Right to Stay
Paring: David Beckham/Michael Owen, David/Iker
Rating: G
Authot: Satin O Moonbeam
Disclaimer: A 100% fiction.
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Sometimes, things wouldn’t be the way you like; things wouldn’t be the way you expect. But you still had to deal with it, and so Michael started to learn to deal with what came to him. But, no, he didn’t want to leave Him. Michael wished that Real Madrid wouldn’t send him away; he only wanted to stay.
But if Michael stayed, would he be a useless fuck-toy as before, waiting for someone to come over and had just one night on the bed moaning, screaming in pain? And then again, waiting for no one to comfort him and finally Steven called and picked him up again? He didn’t want to be like this anymore, but he didn’t want to leave either. What should he do?
Michael lay on the bed and thought about David, and Iker. The pictures, the scenes of them on the training ground were as clear as they were happening right in front of him, all in one. David didn’t even notice that he was actually there in front of them. Did he really have to wait until nightfall to see David, on the bed for merely a night? Michael turned off the light and slid under the blankets.
Rain was pouring heavily, lightning striking through the deep blue sky like a knife slashing a flawless paper into pieces, and raindrops hitting on the window restlessly.
Slowly, listening to the sound of nature, Michael drifted off.
He dreamed a dream, there was someone in the darkness kept calling his name but he couldn’t find the way out. But then he saw David, smiling at him. Michael walked towards him, when he was only a few feet away, a figure ran to David and hugged him; it’s Iker. They both smiled at him and walked away. He wanted to scream, he wanted to tell them not to leave him alone, but he was making no sound and he watched as they walked away.
He was left behind, alone, again.
Michael woke up, finding no one but himself in the room.
No one, but himself
Staying in bed made him felt so small and stupid. He couldn’t stand it. So he pushed away the blankets and walked out of the room that was suffocating him.
Michael walked to the garden and sat on the ground. He stared up to the sky, not caring when the wind blew so heavily and the rain poured like tears on his face. All he cared, and took seriously to his heart was why he was left behind.
Why wouldn’t David come back to him? No matter what he needed to do, what David wanted him of, he only wanted him back. Michael lay down and closed his eyes, thought of how things used to be, and hoped the loneliness could fade away like the thousands raindrops falling from the sky.
Michael heard footsteps, someone walking towards him. Someone sat next to him and he could smell him.
It’s, Him.
David.
But he couldn’t open his eyes anymore, his head was hurting, his eyelids were so heavy he could not open them. He was tired and his body was burning, but absolutely cold inside.
Someone was carrying him. He rested his head against the steady rose and fell of the person’s chest and let himself relaxed.
A kiss was placed, carefully on Michael’s lips, but Michael was too far away in his safe land to return it.
Fine
Paring: David Beckham/Michael Owen, David/Iker
Rating: G
Authot: Satin O Moonbeam
Disclaimer: A 100% fiction.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Sometimes, things wouldn’t be the way you like; things wouldn’t be the way you expect. But you still had to deal with it, and so Michael started to learn to deal with what came to him. But, no, he didn’t want to leave Him. Michael wished that Real Madrid wouldn’t send him away; he only wanted to stay.
But if Michael stayed, would he be a useless fuck-toy as before, waiting for someone to come over and had just one night on the bed moaning, screaming in pain? And then again, waiting for no one to comfort him and finally Steven called and picked him up again? He didn’t want to be like this anymore, but he didn’t want to leave either. What should he do?
Michael lay on the bed and thought about David, and Iker. The pictures, the scenes of them on the training ground were as clear as they were happening right in front of him, all in one. David didn’t even notice that he was actually there in front of them. Did he really have to wait until nightfall to see David, on the bed for merely a night? Michael turned off the light and slid under the blankets.
Rain was pouring heavily, lightning striking through the deep blue sky like a knife slashing a flawless paper into pieces, and raindrops hitting on the window restlessly.
Slowly, listening to the sound of nature, Michael drifted off.
He dreamed a dream, there was someone in the darkness kept calling his name but he couldn’t find the way out. But then he saw David, smiling at him. Michael walked towards him, when he was only a few feet away, a figure ran to David and hugged him; it’s Iker. They both smiled at him and walked away. He wanted to scream, he wanted to tell them not to leave him alone, but he was making no sound and he watched as they walked away.
He was left behind, alone, again.
Michael woke up, finding no one but himself in the room.
No one, but himself
Staying in bed made him felt so small and stupid. He couldn’t stand it. So he pushed away the blankets and walked out of the room that was suffocating him.
Michael walked to the garden and sat on the ground. He stared up to the sky, not caring when the wind blew so heavily and the rain poured like tears on his face. All he cared, and took seriously to his heart was why he was left behind.
Why wouldn’t David come back to him? No matter what he needed to do, what David wanted him of, he only wanted him back. Michael lay down and closed his eyes, thought of how things used to be, and hoped the loneliness could fade away like the thousands raindrops falling from the sky.
Michael heard footsteps, someone walking towards him. Someone sat next to him and he could smell him.
It’s, Him.
David.
But he couldn’t open his eyes anymore, his head was hurting, his eyelids were so heavy he could not open them. He was tired and his body was burning, but absolutely cold inside.
Someone was carrying him. He rested his head against the steady rose and fell of the person’s chest and let himself relaxed.
A kiss was placed, carefully on Michael’s lips, but Michael was too far away in his safe land to return it.
Fine