[fic] Like A Fairytale
Somehow his body felt heavy. Dragging his feet across the ground, he wondered at the sensation. But he certainly wouldn't complain. It was his own fault, after all. Time and time again he saw the picture of the blond Serbian wriggling past him with practised ease.
Goal. Cheering Serbians.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he tried to pull himself together. He shouldn't be thinking about this. Beating himself up about the match would not turn back time and change anything. He had to focus on training, no matter how hard it was. He did want to play against Ghana, after all.
Right?
He wasn't entirely sure about that. Unfortunately he had spent a significant amount of his free time googling his own name. He had realised that the internet was a bad place for aspiring celebrities. It was the deepest layer of hell if you had made a mistake like that, one that robbed Germany of something it had a rightful claim to. That's what he felt, anyway.
"And what are you brooding over?"
Lukas appeared beside him, placing his warm hand on Holger's neck. He squeezed gently, smiling in a way that would have made any cat person adopt a litter of puppies.
"Just tryin' to decide what I should eat today." He smiled back, knowing that he would never be as radiant as Lukas.
"Hm."
Lukas squeezed a little harder and Holger almost felt part of the other's power transfer to him. Sort of a 'Obi-Wan comforting Luke' situation. Still, it made Holger feel a little better about the entire mess; it just had to get easier eventually.
Sure, he had not become a pro because he was a hyper-sensitive little sissy, but there was a difference between regular games and the World Cup.
Lukas didn't seem to mind his own screwing-up too much.
"Hm," Lukas repeated.
For some reason this attitude, this complete and utter calmness in the face of failure seemed to be just what it took. Lukas did play against Ghana. And England.
Holger was aware of the fact that Lukas had been part of their team for a long time now and was a trusted player. These things would certainly be taken into account when it came to lineup.
However, that was not the reason for the wistful longing haunting Holger where ever he went.
For the umpteenth time he took a look at the ceiling, staring at the remains of a fly which had met its gruesome fate under Thomas' towel.
Thomas.
Holger's stomach cramped painfully for a second, his fingers clawing the sheets beside him; they were wet with sweat.
Impatiently he tossed his hair back. He really should go see his hair stylist as soon as he was back in Munich.
Thomas.
In Munich they were together, just like they had always been together. That closeness had always been reassuring; Thomas just understood everything because he was living the same dream.
They were the stars of the South.
But suddenly everything had changed.
Holger's star had turned into a bright supernova in Serbia's orbit. His own thought made him smile - all the 'Star Trek' episodes had finally paid off. At least he could come up with poetic euphemisms for 'complete and utter FAIL'.
Suddenly there came a knock from the door, shaking Holger out of his reverie.
"Yeah?" He already stood on one leg, the other tangled in his blanket.
"It's me! Let me in."
Thomas.
Great. The shooting star visiting the heap of stardust. Thomas certainly wouldn't have trouble dealing with a blanket.
Rolling his eyes at himself, Holger tried to get rid of the annoying thing. A grown man just shouldn't have trouble dealing with such a minor thing. He was part of the German national team for crying out loud!
"Hey! Schläfst du etwa schon?"
"Nein, nein. Bin gleich da. Wart mal kurz."
"Hey! Are you sleeping or what?"
"No, no. I'll be right there. Just a sec."
This time it actually worked.
Nice and easy did the trick. He realised that he had applied too much force before, that perhaps he had wanted it too much. Holger looked at the blanket, feeling like he had made a monumental discovery. Like back when he had scored his first goal. This moment was important, it was precious. He had learned something he would never forget in all his life.
He focused on the blanket harmlessly resting on his bed for just a second before he turned to the door. Every step felt like a lifetime to him, like he had to run against the Serbians once more, knowing he could not stop them. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose.
It wasn't Thomas' fault that he was wallowing in self pity. His friend probably needed him now; being unable to play the semi finals... that was definitely a bitter experience Holger could relate to.
Und dann, als er die Tür geöffnet hatte und in dieses vertraute Gesicht blickte, da war auf einmal alles leicht. Seine Arme schlangen sich um Thomas sobald er die seinen geöffnet hatten und es war eigentlich wie immer.
And once he had opened the door and looked up at Thomas' familiar face everything fell into place. His arms wrapped around his friend and for the first time in ages it felt like everything was going to be all right.
And their star was shining brightly, wrapping them into its glow.
Argentina was defeated.
TBC.