Futures
Title: Futures
Pairing: Thiago Alcantara/Jonathan dos Santos
Words: 810
Rating/Warning: PG13
Disclaimer: All lies.
Summary: Only one can be promoted. But is it with hatred or understanding?
Author’s note: I have got to stop writing this pairing.
Jona blows into the flat in a swirl of tears and slamming doors that makes Thiago and Rafa jump where they’re sitting on the sofa playing Playstation.
Thiago looks up quickly as Jona passes through the living room, head down, eyes closed.
“Jona, what -“
But he’s already down the hall, his bedroom door banging behind him. The sound echoes through the flat before only the roar of PES remains.
The two brothers exchange a glance.
“What was that about?” Rafa wonders aloud, looking in the direction their friend, teammate, and roommate has just fled.
“I think I know,” Thiago says grimly and presses pause on his controller before standing.
Rafa looks on in confusion as his older brother leaves.
Thiago pauses outside of Jona’s closed door upon hearing the sobbing on the other side.
He sighs and runs a hand over his jaw. He doesn’t want this, he never wanted this. But this is what their relationship is - they are lovers, but they are also rivals.
“Jona…Can I come in?”
When there isn’t an answer, he tries the doorknob. It’s unlocked, so he tentatively pushes it open.
Jona is lying on his back on the bed, one arm over his face. His whole body shakes with his sobs, and Thiago’s chest tightens.
He carefully steps around messenger bag in the middle of the floor to sit on the edge of the bed. He reaches out to lay a hand on his boyfriend’s arm, but his touch is swatted away.
“Leave,” Jona chokes out. “Just leave.”
Thiago jerks his hand back, eyes wide, and sits still for a long second before rising on shaky legs. He stumbles over the bag on the floor as he leaves.
He closes the door behind him and sags against it, tears springing to his own eyes.
What feels like ours later, Thiago sits on his bed with a book, trying to read but not making much headway. He has to read the same page twice to get everything. His head is down the hall with Jona.
They had tried to coax him out for dinner, but with the door locked and no reply, Rafa and Thiago had left him alone for the rest of the evening.
Now all Thiago can do is hope that in the morning Jona doesn’t hate him.
***
“Should we wake him?”
Rafa bites his lip and looks at his brother anxiously. It’s nine am, and if they don’t leave in five minutes, they’re going to be late for training, Rafa with the reserve, and Thiago and Jona with the first team.
“I’ll do it.”
Thiago knocks on the closed door again, harder this time.
“Jona! Come on, we’re gonna be late!”
“I’m not going!” comes the muffled reply.
Not wanting to talk to him is one thing, but skipping training? Thiago jiggles the doorknob, unsurprised to find it locked.
“Jonathan dos Santos Ramírez, open this fucking door right now or I swear to god I will fucking break it down,” he hisses, both fists flat against the door.
The lock clicks a moment later, and e turns the knob, saying, “Rafa. Go without us,” over his shoulder as he enters the room/
Jona sits on the edge of the bed, still in his clothes from yesterday, his hair a complete mess, looking everywhere but at his best friend as Thiago closes the door.
“Please -“ he starts but the younger boy raises both hands again.
“No. You listen to me, Jona. I don’t know what Pep said to you, but you cannot miss training. You’ll put your entire career in danger!”
“It’s already in danger, because of you,” Jona bites out scathingly, with so much malice Thiago recoils. “You don’t know what Pep said to me? He told me I might want to look into another club, because right now my future at Barça is dark. You’re being promoted. I’m not. Lucho is leaving. God knows what is going to happen to me next season.”
“How - it’s not my fault!” Thiago barks indignantly, but his stomach has plummeted to the floor. He cannot imagine Barcelona without him. He knows it will be different, playing for different squads, but here, now, they can still be together. “But what, you’re going to give up? Give in? Fucking stay. Fight for your place.”
He steps closer, cups Jona’s face in his hands, and presses his forehead to his. He feels sick at the very thought of losing him. He knows it’s selfish, to keep him here if he doesn’t play, just sits in the bench in misery. Jona is too good for that, but Pep will see. The next reserve manager will see.
“Fight for it,” he mumbles. “Don’t listen to Pep. Stay with me. Fight for us.”
Jona breathes out, like he’s been holding his breath all night.
“Okay…Okay. I’ll fight.”
Pairing: Thiago Alcantara/Jonathan dos Santos
Words: 810
Rating/Warning: PG13
Disclaimer: All lies.
Summary: Only one can be promoted. But is it with hatred or understanding?
Author’s note: I have got to stop writing this pairing.
Jona blows into the flat in a swirl of tears and slamming doors that makes Thiago and Rafa jump where they’re sitting on the sofa playing Playstation.
Thiago looks up quickly as Jona passes through the living room, head down, eyes closed.
“Jona, what -“
But he’s already down the hall, his bedroom door banging behind him. The sound echoes through the flat before only the roar of PES remains.
The two brothers exchange a glance.
“What was that about?” Rafa wonders aloud, looking in the direction their friend, teammate, and roommate has just fled.
“I think I know,” Thiago says grimly and presses pause on his controller before standing.
Rafa looks on in confusion as his older brother leaves.
Thiago pauses outside of Jona’s closed door upon hearing the sobbing on the other side.
He sighs and runs a hand over his jaw. He doesn’t want this, he never wanted this. But this is what their relationship is - they are lovers, but they are also rivals.
“Jona…Can I come in?”
When there isn’t an answer, he tries the doorknob. It’s unlocked, so he tentatively pushes it open.
Jona is lying on his back on the bed, one arm over his face. His whole body shakes with his sobs, and Thiago’s chest tightens.
He carefully steps around messenger bag in the middle of the floor to sit on the edge of the bed. He reaches out to lay a hand on his boyfriend’s arm, but his touch is swatted away.
“Leave,” Jona chokes out. “Just leave.”
Thiago jerks his hand back, eyes wide, and sits still for a long second before rising on shaky legs. He stumbles over the bag on the floor as he leaves.
He closes the door behind him and sags against it, tears springing to his own eyes.
What feels like ours later, Thiago sits on his bed with a book, trying to read but not making much headway. He has to read the same page twice to get everything. His head is down the hall with Jona.
They had tried to coax him out for dinner, but with the door locked and no reply, Rafa and Thiago had left him alone for the rest of the evening.
Now all Thiago can do is hope that in the morning Jona doesn’t hate him.
***
“Should we wake him?”
Rafa bites his lip and looks at his brother anxiously. It’s nine am, and if they don’t leave in five minutes, they’re going to be late for training, Rafa with the reserve, and Thiago and Jona with the first team.
“I’ll do it.”
Thiago knocks on the closed door again, harder this time.
“Jona! Come on, we’re gonna be late!”
“I’m not going!” comes the muffled reply.
Not wanting to talk to him is one thing, but skipping training? Thiago jiggles the doorknob, unsurprised to find it locked.
“Jonathan dos Santos Ramírez, open this fucking door right now or I swear to god I will fucking break it down,” he hisses, both fists flat against the door.
The lock clicks a moment later, and e turns the knob, saying, “Rafa. Go without us,” over his shoulder as he enters the room/
Jona sits on the edge of the bed, still in his clothes from yesterday, his hair a complete mess, looking everywhere but at his best friend as Thiago closes the door.
“Please -“ he starts but the younger boy raises both hands again.
“No. You listen to me, Jona. I don’t know what Pep said to you, but you cannot miss training. You’ll put your entire career in danger!”
“It’s already in danger, because of you,” Jona bites out scathingly, with so much malice Thiago recoils. “You don’t know what Pep said to me? He told me I might want to look into another club, because right now my future at Barça is dark. You’re being promoted. I’m not. Lucho is leaving. God knows what is going to happen to me next season.”
“How - it’s not my fault!” Thiago barks indignantly, but his stomach has plummeted to the floor. He cannot imagine Barcelona without him. He knows it will be different, playing for different squads, but here, now, they can still be together. “But what, you’re going to give up? Give in? Fucking stay. Fight for your place.”
He steps closer, cups Jona’s face in his hands, and presses his forehead to his. He feels sick at the very thought of losing him. He knows it’s selfish, to keep him here if he doesn’t play, just sits in the bench in misery. Jona is too good for that, but Pep will see. The next reserve manager will see.
“Fight for it,” he mumbles. “Don’t listen to Pep. Stay with me. Fight for us.”
Jona breathes out, like he’s been holding his breath all night.
“Okay…Okay. I’ll fight.”