(no subject)
Title: Charades (8/10).
Author: vitaminbjorner
Rating: Pg-13.
Fandom: Football rps (au).
Warnings: Nothing really.
Pairing(s): Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos, Fernando Torres/Olalla Dominguez.
Word count: ca 1570.
Disclaimer: “I think I made you up in my head.”
Notes: I finally got some inspiration to continue this story. I'm really sorry about the long wait, but I had severe writers block for this fic. I don't know if anyone actually is still interested, but it you are, I want you to know that this story will be finished very soon. I'm currently writing the last chapter so... But there will be a sequal to it, some time in the future. I've already written to two first chapters. I just need to make sure that I have material this time, before I start posting, so this doesn't happen again. anyway, all the usual stuff applies. And I hope you like this chapter! Sorry again!
Previous chapters can be found here.
Part 8.
Sergio felt like he was living a cliché, in which he was the biggest cliché there is. He hates it. He despises it. Because Sergio is falling apart. It is like the cracks that had been there finally gave away, and now he is powerless to stop the heartache that is flowing out of him like a dam giving away to a flood.
He should have seen it coming, should have know that Fernando would leave, that at the end of the day, he would never be his. That what they had had for those months, for that year had only been given to Sergio to show him what would never be.
He doesn’t want to be the guy who falls apart when the person they love leaves them. He doesn’t. Because that is essentially what happened when Fernando left. Sergio knows Fernando, knows him better than most, and probably better than Fernando knows himself. He knows that Fernando wants to distance himself from Sergio, avoid him, so that he doesn’t have to deal with them.
By leaving, Fernando had said ‘I think we need some space’, ‘I need to just love Olalla’, ‘There is no room for you anymore’, and ‘I love you, but I’m scared’.
His days go by as training and matches blend in together. He has stopped to check his phone continuously now. It took some time for the fact to sink in that it wouldn’t ring at least five times a day. He hangs out with Jesús and Iker, attends fancy opening for places and things he really doesn’t care about. He hooks up with a few people, but realises that it’s only making him feel worse. He avoids everything that has to do with the Premier League, that has to do with England.
He’s just gotten back from a night out with Iker and a few others of his teammates when he sees a figure sitting on the steps of his house. From his car he can’t make out who it is, but as he parks it, and gets out, he immediately recognise him.
Fernando is sitting on his steps, legs drawn close to his chest. His mind must be far away as he had yet to notice that Sergio was back and walking towards him.
“What are you doing here?”
Fernando bites his lip and stands up. He dusts off his jeans.
“Can we talk inside?”
It’s not really the answer Sergio is looking for. At this point he isn’t sure whether or not he wants Fernando in his house, if he wants him this close. But Fernando is looking at him with those eyes, those big and sad eyes that make Sergio’s insides both flop and contract at the same time. It was those eyes, that look, which could make Sergio do anything for Fernando. Which made Sergio let him into his home.
They walk to the kitchen, and settle down by the counter. Sergio goes to his cupboard and pulls out two mugs and sets them on the counter in front of Fernando. He makes coffee. Goes to the fridge and looks for milk. He doesn’t look at Fernando. The only sound is the light humming from the coffee maker. It’s awkward and uncomfortable.
“Sergio...”
Sergio continues to stand with his back to Fernando, eyes tainted on the coffee maker, watching it obsessively. Watching every single drop fall.
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
He doesn’t want to turn around and face Fernando. Doesn’t want to hear what he has to say. Doesn’t want him to break his heart with his words.
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
The sound is enough to annoy him, to distract him from Fernando’s presence. Or at least he can pretend that it does. He pretends that he can’t feel how fast his heart is beating, how he is savouring the familiar aftershave, or how comforting it feels to have him there again, in his kitchen.
He is so focused on focusing on the machine in front of him that he doesn’t notice Fernando who has moved from his place by the counter.
“Are you going to ignore me all night?” is suddenly softly asked by a mouth close to Sergio’s ear. A pair of arms snake their way around his waist, and Sergio grabs the surface.
He feels Fernando’s mouth on him then, warm and soft lips against his neck, behind his ear. He feels his nose move against his cheek. Sergio continues to stare at the coffee that is being made.
Hands slip underneath his shirt, digs at the soft skin they find there, and Sergio has to bite his lip hard to not let a moan slip out.
The humming from the coffee maker is slowly drowned out by Fernando’s breathing against his ear.
“Sergio.” It comes out breathy.
More lips against his skin, this time they are sucking, bruising the part of his collarbone that is available to Fernando.
“Turn around.” He whispers against Sergio’s skin.
When Sergio makes no attempt to turn, Fernando does it for him, and spins him around in his arms, hands stilling on his hips, still underneath clothing. He is pressing himself against Sergio, trapping him there, and making him feel Fernando in every single way. He tries to remember how to breathe, tries to remember that Fernando left him, that...
“I’m going to kiss you. I’m going to kiss you, and-” Fernando stops to catch his breath, “-and you’ll kiss me back. I’ll tell you that I miss you, that I made a mistake, that I’ve made so many mistakes... that I love you.”
Sergio bits his lip. He is trying to process what’s happening, what has been said, what is being said. He is trying to find how to make Fernando stop, how to get his body to work, but his heart is denying his rationality, refusing Sergio to open his mouth in protest, stops him from raising his arms and pushing Fernando away.
“I’m going to kiss you.” Fernando repeats, and all Sergio can do is stand there as a pair of lips brush gently against his own. He lets his eyes fall shut as Fernando deepens the kiss, his tongue begging for entrance.
“I hate you,” he whispers between the kisses, and he means it. Almost.
Fernando sighs. “I miss you. I’ve missed you. These months, I thought I could let you go, that I could live without you. I can’t Sergio. I should have known.”
Kiss.
“You broke me.”
“I know.”
Kiss, kiss, kiss.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
-
Sergio is laying awake in the early hours. He looks over the body curled tightly against him, asleep. He sees tufs of badly bleached hair and a sea of freckles. His head tells him that he shouldn’t love him. That he’ll just get hurt again. But his heart, his heart tells him that this is it, this is the one, and that even if it’s brief, fleeting, wrong, and not meant to last, Sergio is going to love Fernando regardless. There’s a need to have him, in any way possible.
“Morning,” Fernando mumbles a few hours later.
Sergio smiles a little, “I think it’s good afternoon by now.”
The blonde lets out a light chuckle, “Really? I guess you wore me out.”
“Mmm.”
Fernando’s face turns serious. “We need to talk.”
“We do.”
Fernando opens his mouth, but is interrupted by a loud growl from Sergio’s stomach. He laughs while Sergio’s face flushes ever so slightly.
“How about we do it over some breakfast?”
It takes a while for them to make their way down to the kitchen, but when they do, they are both freshly showered and wearing slacks.
Fernando manoeuvres himself with ease around the kitchen, finding the ingredients he needs to make tortilla. He sets the table, makes coffee and hums along to the tunes that play softly from Sergio’s kitchen radio.
Sergio watches. He watches as Fernando makes him breakfast, as he flips the tortilla in the pan. He picks up the paper when Fernando tells him to stop watching him.
When the food was served and the coffee made, they sit in quiet for a while, just eating and listens to the meaningless noise of the radio.
Fernando breaks the silence first; he thinks he should, he thinks he needs to.
“I was scared,” he begins. “What I feel for you, I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that before. But things, our jobs... we can’t be. And I can’t leave her.”
Sergio says nothing, knowing Fernando has more to say.
“I love you. I tried not to, tried so hard not to, because Christ, you both deserve better than me, but I can’t. I love you, and it just consumes me. Without you, I’m lost.” Fernando wipes his eyes.
“I screwed up.”
“You did.”
“But you still love me?”
“There will never be a moment when I won’t love you.”
“I can’t offer you forever. I want to...”
“I know.”
“There will come a moment...”
“I know, Fernando. I know that a day will come when this can’t happen anymore. I know, but I don’t care how little or long how we have, as long as we get to have each other.”
Sergio slips out of his seat and walks over to Fernando. He wipes away his tears and kisses his temple.
“I love you, and you love me. We have each other now, that’s all that matters.”
Author: vitaminbjorner
Rating: Pg-13.
Fandom: Football rps (au).
Warnings: Nothing really.
Pairing(s): Fernando Torres/Sergio Ramos, Fernando Torres/Olalla Dominguez.
Word count: ca 1570.
Disclaimer: “I think I made you up in my head.”
Notes: I finally got some inspiration to continue this story. I'm really sorry about the long wait, but I had severe writers block for this fic. I don't know if anyone actually is still interested, but it you are, I want you to know that this story will be finished very soon. I'm currently writing the last chapter so... But there will be a sequal to it, some time in the future. I've already written to two first chapters. I just need to make sure that I have material this time, before I start posting, so this doesn't happen again. anyway, all the usual stuff applies. And I hope you like this chapter! Sorry again!
Previous chapters can be found here.
Part 8.
Sergio felt like he was living a cliché, in which he was the biggest cliché there is. He hates it. He despises it. Because Sergio is falling apart. It is like the cracks that had been there finally gave away, and now he is powerless to stop the heartache that is flowing out of him like a dam giving away to a flood.
He should have seen it coming, should have know that Fernando would leave, that at the end of the day, he would never be his. That what they had had for those months, for that year had only been given to Sergio to show him what would never be.
He doesn’t want to be the guy who falls apart when the person they love leaves them. He doesn’t. Because that is essentially what happened when Fernando left. Sergio knows Fernando, knows him better than most, and probably better than Fernando knows himself. He knows that Fernando wants to distance himself from Sergio, avoid him, so that he doesn’t have to deal with them.
By leaving, Fernando had said ‘I think we need some space’, ‘I need to just love Olalla’, ‘There is no room for you anymore’, and ‘I love you, but I’m scared’.
His days go by as training and matches blend in together. He has stopped to check his phone continuously now. It took some time for the fact to sink in that it wouldn’t ring at least five times a day. He hangs out with Jesús and Iker, attends fancy opening for places and things he really doesn’t care about. He hooks up with a few people, but realises that it’s only making him feel worse. He avoids everything that has to do with the Premier League, that has to do with England.
He’s just gotten back from a night out with Iker and a few others of his teammates when he sees a figure sitting on the steps of his house. From his car he can’t make out who it is, but as he parks it, and gets out, he immediately recognise him.
Fernando is sitting on his steps, legs drawn close to his chest. His mind must be far away as he had yet to notice that Sergio was back and walking towards him.
“What are you doing here?”
Fernando bites his lip and stands up. He dusts off his jeans.
“Can we talk inside?”
It’s not really the answer Sergio is looking for. At this point he isn’t sure whether or not he wants Fernando in his house, if he wants him this close. But Fernando is looking at him with those eyes, those big and sad eyes that make Sergio’s insides both flop and contract at the same time. It was those eyes, that look, which could make Sergio do anything for Fernando. Which made Sergio let him into his home.
They walk to the kitchen, and settle down by the counter. Sergio goes to his cupboard and pulls out two mugs and sets them on the counter in front of Fernando. He makes coffee. Goes to the fridge and looks for milk. He doesn’t look at Fernando. The only sound is the light humming from the coffee maker. It’s awkward and uncomfortable.
“Sergio...”
Sergio continues to stand with his back to Fernando, eyes tainted on the coffee maker, watching it obsessively. Watching every single drop fall.
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
He doesn’t want to turn around and face Fernando. Doesn’t want to hear what he has to say. Doesn’t want him to break his heart with his words.
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
The sound is enough to annoy him, to distract him from Fernando’s presence. Or at least he can pretend that it does. He pretends that he can’t feel how fast his heart is beating, how he is savouring the familiar aftershave, or how comforting it feels to have him there again, in his kitchen.
He is so focused on focusing on the machine in front of him that he doesn’t notice Fernando who has moved from his place by the counter.
“Are you going to ignore me all night?” is suddenly softly asked by a mouth close to Sergio’s ear. A pair of arms snake their way around his waist, and Sergio grabs the surface.
He feels Fernando’s mouth on him then, warm and soft lips against his neck, behind his ear. He feels his nose move against his cheek. Sergio continues to stare at the coffee that is being made.
Hands slip underneath his shirt, digs at the soft skin they find there, and Sergio has to bite his lip hard to not let a moan slip out.
The humming from the coffee maker is slowly drowned out by Fernando’s breathing against his ear.
“Sergio.” It comes out breathy.
More lips against his skin, this time they are sucking, bruising the part of his collarbone that is available to Fernando.
“Turn around.” He whispers against Sergio’s skin.
When Sergio makes no attempt to turn, Fernando does it for him, and spins him around in his arms, hands stilling on his hips, still underneath clothing. He is pressing himself against Sergio, trapping him there, and making him feel Fernando in every single way. He tries to remember how to breathe, tries to remember that Fernando left him, that...
“I’m going to kiss you. I’m going to kiss you, and-” Fernando stops to catch his breath, “-and you’ll kiss me back. I’ll tell you that I miss you, that I made a mistake, that I’ve made so many mistakes... that I love you.”
Sergio bits his lip. He is trying to process what’s happening, what has been said, what is being said. He is trying to find how to make Fernando stop, how to get his body to work, but his heart is denying his rationality, refusing Sergio to open his mouth in protest, stops him from raising his arms and pushing Fernando away.
“I’m going to kiss you.” Fernando repeats, and all Sergio can do is stand there as a pair of lips brush gently against his own. He lets his eyes fall shut as Fernando deepens the kiss, his tongue begging for entrance.
“I hate you,” he whispers between the kisses, and he means it. Almost.
Fernando sighs. “I miss you. I’ve missed you. These months, I thought I could let you go, that I could live without you. I can’t Sergio. I should have known.”
Kiss.
“You broke me.”
“I know.”
Kiss, kiss, kiss.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
-
Sergio is laying awake in the early hours. He looks over the body curled tightly against him, asleep. He sees tufs of badly bleached hair and a sea of freckles. His head tells him that he shouldn’t love him. That he’ll just get hurt again. But his heart, his heart tells him that this is it, this is the one, and that even if it’s brief, fleeting, wrong, and not meant to last, Sergio is going to love Fernando regardless. There’s a need to have him, in any way possible.
“Morning,” Fernando mumbles a few hours later.
Sergio smiles a little, “I think it’s good afternoon by now.”
The blonde lets out a light chuckle, “Really? I guess you wore me out.”
“Mmm.”
Fernando’s face turns serious. “We need to talk.”
“We do.”
Fernando opens his mouth, but is interrupted by a loud growl from Sergio’s stomach. He laughs while Sergio’s face flushes ever so slightly.
“How about we do it over some breakfast?”
It takes a while for them to make their way down to the kitchen, but when they do, they are both freshly showered and wearing slacks.
Fernando manoeuvres himself with ease around the kitchen, finding the ingredients he needs to make tortilla. He sets the table, makes coffee and hums along to the tunes that play softly from Sergio’s kitchen radio.
Sergio watches. He watches as Fernando makes him breakfast, as he flips the tortilla in the pan. He picks up the paper when Fernando tells him to stop watching him.
When the food was served and the coffee made, they sit in quiet for a while, just eating and listens to the meaningless noise of the radio.
Fernando breaks the silence first; he thinks he should, he thinks he needs to.
“I was scared,” he begins. “What I feel for you, I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that before. But things, our jobs... we can’t be. And I can’t leave her.”
Sergio says nothing, knowing Fernando has more to say.
“I love you. I tried not to, tried so hard not to, because Christ, you both deserve better than me, but I can’t. I love you, and it just consumes me. Without you, I’m lost.” Fernando wipes his eyes.
“I screwed up.”
“You did.”
“But you still love me?”
“There will never be a moment when I won’t love you.”
“I can’t offer you forever. I want to...”
“I know.”
“There will come a moment...”
“I know, Fernando. I know that a day will come when this can’t happen anymore. I know, but I don’t care how little or long how we have, as long as we get to have each other.”
Sergio slips out of his seat and walks over to Fernando. He wipes away his tears and kisses his temple.
“I love you, and you love me. We have each other now, that’s all that matters.”