The Other Side of the Clouds (2/2)
"Can I talk to you?"
Erik can count on one hand the number of times Mike has been serious off the pitch. When he comes out of the locker rooms after practice and finds Mike waiting for him, he wonders what has the striker so grim. He follows Mike to the side of the building; they stand underneath an overhang out of the ever present rain and out of earshot of anyone else.
“It’s Roger.”
“Is something wrong with him?” Erik has noticed a deviation in Roger’s behavior over the past few days and he knows he’s not the only one who has seen it.
“You need to stop leading him on. Either do something or tell him no.”
“…. What? I don’t understand….”
“Erik, Roger likes you.” Erik isn’t really sure what Mike is getting at because he likes Roger too; he wouldn’t hang out with him if he didn’t. Erik’s confusion is evident because Mike then clarifies, “Roger is gay, he likes you. You know- likes you as more than just a friend.”
On any other day, Erik would assume Mike is playing a trick on him, but today he is so serious that it leaves no doubt in Erik’s mind that he’s telling the truth. As he thinks back to all the times he’s spent with Roger, Erik feels like an idiot for not seeing it himself. He bites his lip as his cheeks burn and he knows he must be bright red.
“Excuse me,” Erik turns on his heel and leaves a quick as he can.
His teammate calls out to him, as do others he passes, but he doesn’t acknowledge them. He doesn’t acknowledge the rain on his face, the messages on his phone, or the hurt look on Roger’s face as he blows right by him without so much as a glance. He gets into his car and speeds home. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he gets home in one piece as distracted as he is. The only thing Erik doesn’t ignore is the clenching in his stomach, the feeling he experiences whenever Roger is around him. Erik understands now what that feeling is and it scares him and confuses him. He thinks he’s acting like a child, running away from Starfire and coming home to hide under the blankets on his bed but he doesn’t find that he cares.
His cell phone rings and the caller ID flashes Roger’s name; his stomach clenches. Pressing ‘silence’, he ignores the call. Erik needs to figure out what he wants before figuring out what anyone else wants.
August is a good month. Seven wins, one draw, no losses. They become the second MLS team to beat a Mexican team, finally put their dry spell in Texas behind them, and destroy Columbus 6-2. Mike nets his first goal in the MLS and manages two goals against Comunicaciones. Erik’s happiness for Mike breaks any residual awkwardness between them. Erik can’t say the same for Roger though. They barely speak on the field and haven’t hung out off the pitch. Roger is avoiding him and to be honest, Erik is avoiding Roger too. He doesn’t know what to say to him and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to say it. Erik is too shy, too mumbling and awkward, to initiate any conversation with Roger on the subject. It’s pathetic- they’re acting like preteen girls with their first crushes on the playground.
There’s a buzzing noise as his phone vibrates, startling him. It’s a text from Brad, a simple ‘everything ok?’ and Erik texts back ‘yes’. Looking down at the floor beside the couch, he sees two dark eyes staring pitifully up at him. Sighing, he moves over to free up space on his couch. He needs to stop being such a push over.
When he agreed to pet sit for Brad he thought Brad would bring over his golden retriever, not a puppy. A not yet house trained, 12 week old chocolate lab puppy- she was going to be a birthday gift for Brad’s wife. Brad had begged, pleaded, and in the end Erik had given in. The dog doesn’t have a name yet as Brad wanted to let Becky name her, so Erik just calls her ‘Dog’. Erik knows he’s not the most creative person in the world. Dog has been with him for four days and he has a week and a half left. It’s kind of nice though, the way Dog doesn’t make him feel alone. Brad has a crate for her to sleep in but she cries and Erik feels bad; he lets her sleep at the foot of his bed. He’s treating it as a crash course- he wants a dog and Dog is good experience.
His phone buzzes again and ‘I’m coming over’ flashes onto the screen followed by ‘beer and VGs?’. Erik laughs and replies with a yes. He could deal with a few beers and video games for a couple of hours to take him mind off of matters.
“Your dad is coming over,” he tells Dog, who just yawns and curls up in the corner of the couch. “We’ll show him your new tricks.”
Brad is impressed that Dog has learned ‘sit’ and ‘down’. As Erik wakes the sleeping puppy up to demonstrate, she looks up at them as Brad says ‘sit’. She blinks.
“I guess she forgot,” Brad tells him and Erik frowns.
“Sitt!” She clumsily sits. “Ligg.” She lies down and Erik gives Brad a sheepish grin. “I guess I taught her the Swedish words.”
“Unbelievable.”
“What? I don’t speak English in here.”
“You suck.”
Erik glares at Brad and mumbles an insult in Swedish. Turning, he grabs a beer and turns the TV on, sliding Call of Duty into the Xbox and sitting on the floor. Laughing, Brad takes a beer before flopping onto the couch. Dog shies away from Brad, coming to curl up next to Erik and falling back asleep. It’s Brad’s turn to glare. Erik smirks as he tosses Brad a controller and a headset.
“Let’s pwn some noobs.”
Erik has heard this expression many times but is still unsure as to its exact meaning. He just smiles and laughs, like always.
They lose themselves in the game. Erik likes playing with Brad and thinks they make an excellent team. Brad says it’s because they’re practically the same person, except Brad is better looking. Erik just shakes his head. They win every round bar one and only stop when Dog wakes up. Erik recognizes the squirmy body movements she displays when she needs to pee and scoops her up, running outside so his carpet isn’t her victim again. Back inside, she sits dutifully next to him, occasionally nudging his hand for a pet or padding over to her food bowl and pushing it.
“You are a silly little critter,” he tells her in Swedish as she rolls onto her back as he rubs her belly.
“You! Stop making my dog Swedish.”
Erik chuckles and picks the puppy up. She gnaws at his fingers as he sets her on the couch next to Brad. Carefully withdrawing his fingers from her mouth, and sharp puppy teeth, he tells her no and flicks her ear.
“You’re going to be sad when she leaves.”
“I’ve been alone before. I’ll be fine.”
Brad looks like he wants to say something but in the end he just shrugs. Erik grabs his controller and logs them back in.
The sun is setting by the time Erik looks up at the clock and realizes they’ve been sitting there playing for almost four hours. As if on cue, his stomach grumbles. He waits until they finish the round they’re on before taking his headset off. Turning around to ask Brad if he wants to order out, Brad cuts him off.
“Did you and Roger break up?”
“… What?”
Erik doesn’t have any words; all he can do is gape at Brad. He’s sure his face has paled, if that’s even possible, and anxiety starts to claw at his stomach. He thinks he’s going to be sick. His eyes drop to the floor as he turns back around.
“Erik, come on, I’m your friend.” Brad is normally brash; hearing him speak softly is unsettling. “You and Roger have been tiptoeing around each other for weeks.”
“I…. we… but…” Erik sputters, struggling to put a sentence together. “Is that what everyone thinks?”
Brad shrugs. “I haven’t talked to anyone about it. But come on, you and Roger, I’m not blind.”
Erik doesn’t say anything at first. He draws his knees into his chest, chews on his lower lip. The room loses all light in it as the sun finally dies outside. Brad sighs as he leans over to turn a lamp on.
“We were never together,” Erik tells him after a few minutes. The rest of the story comes tumbling out in short and mumbled sentences, he can’t remember the last time he spoke for this long, and he finishes with, “I didn’t think anyone noticed. I don’t know if I want anyone to know. I don’t want to deal with weird looks or shit in the locker room and on the field. I don’t want the media to find out. I just want…” He trails off- he doesn’t know what he wants.
“No one has to know if you don’t want them to,” Brad tells him. “And if they did, do you think Kasey or Zach would let them say anything? Mike would flip a shit and punch anyone that said anything to you or Roger, and I’d help him.” Erik just shakes his head. “You need to do what makes you happy.”
The advice is oddly sage, and ironic, coming from a man who goes by B-Rad. It’s comforting, but Erik isn’t sure if the support of one teammate is enough to overcome the mountain of doubt, and fear, he is facing. He’s not sure if happiness is worth the risk.
Erik is almost late to practice the next morning. Grumpy and hungover, Erik stays silent for practice, speaking only when he needs to. It’s not out of character for Erik to be quiet and no one says anything to him. Mike and Brad shoot him worried glances but Erik avoids making eye contact. Today he’s here to practice and that’s it. It doesn’t go like that though, it never does. Thank god today is their last day before a week off.
It’s tournament Tuesday and as always, everyone’s name goes into a hat for their five a side tournaments. Erik’s name is drawn with James, Jeff, Zach, and Ozzie. Three defenders and two midfielders. They should dominate but they don’t. Erik can’t connect with crosses, shoots wide of the post every time, and manages to completely miss the ball at one point. He trudges off the field grumbling under his breath in Swedish, planning to grab lunch before the others do and eat alone on the bleachers out back.
He’s allowed five minutes of solitude, in which he asks God to not make his life anymore awkward than it already is, before he hears a clinking noise and James’ signature laugh. James and Jeff, Giggles and Sparkles as everyone calls them, round the corner, lunches in hand and a small Boston terrier trotting after them. They sit on either side of him, the dog sitting on the ground next to Jeff, patiently waiting for a bite of food. Erik cracks a smile when the dog, Pain Machine, huffs and lays down, putting his head on his little paws.
There’s a stereotype of defenders- big and stupid, and sure, Erik has known a few like that. However, Erik thinks that defenders don’t get their due: they’re blamed for goals scored against the team and rarely share the spotlight of scoring or setting up a goal. A good defender must be an excellent interpreter of body language, of the subtle motions that indicate changes in direction or speed. You can’t be stupid and be a good defender. James and Jeff are excellent defenders and Erik knows they’re here because they see a change in him.
Setting a small piece of turkey to the side, Erik finishes eating before holding it out. Pain Machine stands and trots over to him, sniffing the meat before taking it. Erik leans down and picks the tiny dog up, wrinkling his nose as the dog licks him on the face, and sets him in the lap. It sniffs him for a minute, more then likely smelling Dog on Erik’s sweater as the puppy had decided to sleep on it the night before.
“Weird choice for a dog,” Erik murmurs, scratching it under it’s chin. “Not intimidating.”
“How dare you! Pain Machine is ferocious,” Jeff tells him. “You better watch your fingers.” Erik looks down at the yawning dog and then back up at Jeff with a raised eyebrow. James giggles. “Well, he’s a hit with the ladies.”
Erik snorts and Jeff shoots him a fake, wounded expression. Jeff doesn’t need any help as he is without a doubt the best looking guy on the team- his nickname is Sparkles for gods sake. In his lap, Pain Machine shifts before laying down and closing his eyes. It must be nice to only think about food and sleep and know that you are loved Erik muses as he continues to pet the dog. They listen to James speak about the event he did yesterday, a fundraiser of sorts. Even hungover and sulky, Erik admires the dedication James has to giving back to the community. It seems like every week he’s working on a new project or event. Erik feels a twinge of guilt; he can’t be assed to go grocery shopping half of the time. His head throbs and he makes a mental note to buy more alcohol.
“Sooooo,” Jeff leans back, puts his elbows on the metal row behind them, looks up at the sky. “Shit finally hit the fan.”
Erik doesn’t know what that means. Erik feels like he doesn’t know what a lot of things mean or are these days. Beside him, James is struck by a sudden, albeit fake, coughing attack and has a pinched look on his face as he stares at Jeff. Jeff rolls his eyes at James.
“It’s not like it isn’t obvious.” Erik shifts, unsure as to what is obvious, uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Startled by the sudden movement, Pain Machine stands and jumps back down to the ground, sitting by Jeff. “Roger and Mike have been fighting all week and now-”
“What Jeff means to say,” James cuts Jeff off, “is that you seem upset and we wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Erik shrugs, looks down at his hands. He supposes he should be glad that someone cares enough to ask but he can’t talk about it. Erik still hasn’t figured anything out and he’s not about to offer up a scattered and nonsensical explanation.
“I don’t know why they’re fighting,” Erik mumbles; it’s not the truth but it’s not a lie either. “I just had a bad night, I’ll be okay.”
The two defenders exchange a glance. Erik knows he isn’t fooling them but it’s the best they’re going to get. He wonders if they’ll corner Roger and Mike later to try to pry information from them. Drama llama as Roger would say. Erik frowns; he misses Roger. He wishes there was someone he could talk to. It’s not that he didn’t listen to what Brad had to say or that he doesn’t trust James or Jeff, but he needs someone else. Someone not on the team, someone not involved, someone who wouldn’t judge. Something clicks in his mind- there is someone he can talk to. Pulling out his phone, he types out a quick message and sends it.
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he smiles and nods. James and Jeff look at him like he’s insane. Pain Machine barks at a squirrel.
“It will be okay,” he says, mostly to himself, but also to reassure his teammates that he’s not crazy. “We’ll all be okay.”
Giggles, Sparkles, Freebird, Pain Machine. Seattle is as weird as it is wonderful. Erik wouldn’t want it any other way. Except maybe without the hangover.
“Um… you said I could call you… if we needed to talk.”
“… We talk all the time.”
“… about… Anton, I don’t know what to do.”
“What are we even talking about? Erik, I can’t help you if I don’t know-”
“Roger… I… and him…”
“What? Oh… uh… really?”
“… I don’t know. I’m confused.”
“Well is he…?”
“Yeah.”
“And are you?”
“That’s what I’m confused about.”
They sigh at the same time.
“Erik, I can’t help you if you don’t know. That’s something you need to figure out on your own.”
“He’s the only one.” Erik’s face is burning and he wants so bad to hang up the phone and pretend this conversation never happened.
“The only one?”
“That I’ve ever been attracted to.” The words are quiet and quick- it’s the first time Erik’s admitted as much aloud. “I don’t know if this is real or just something in passing.” There is silence on Anton’s end of the line. “How did you figure it out?”
“The same way all gay players do- you realize you’d rather bone Beckham instead of Posh.”
Erik snorts. He thinks back to his wall as a teenager and to the first game of the season. He remembers every time Roger has called him Freebird, pulled his hair, sat with him on the bus, and the look on Roger’s face when he stops talking and just stares at him when he thinks Erik isn’t looking. Erik doesn’t want those things to go away- he doesn’t want Roger to be a memory and a regret of what could have been.
Erik sits in his car for fifteen minutes. A woman walking her dog has passed him twice and he busies himself with his phone so he doesn’t look like some creep sitting in a car for no reason. He’s reached for the handle seven times to let himself out of the car but loses courage every time. Erik tells himself that he stands in front of nearly forty thousand people at least once a week and that alone shows that he is brave, but his pep talks aren’t working. It’s easier to let down thousands of people whom he doesn’t know then to even think about letting down Roger. Erik never wants to let down Roger but has a feeling he already has.
The blame doesn’t lay fully on him though; Erik thinks Roger should have said something. Everyone on the team knows that Erik is often oblivious to the happenings around him and as one of his closest fiends, Roger should have known Erik wouldn’t have seen what is now obvious. Glaringly obvious; Erik’s face heats up when he thinks of how stupid he can be.
When the woman with the dog walks by again, this time pausing to stare at him, he thinks enough is enough and gets out of the car. Checking his appearance in the side view mirror, he pushes his hair back behind his ears. Trudging up to the gate he slides the card, lent to him by Mike with a knowing glance and a wink, through the card reader. He double checks the apartment number four times, silly as he’s been here more times than he can count. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, he knocks on the door.
Roger isn’t home. Erik sighs and resists the urge to beat his head against the door and curse the universe for his continued streak of bad luck. There’s this itching feeling to run away, to procrastinate and put this off for another day. Erik knows that day will never come. Today has to be that day. Erik sits down on the concrete floor and pulls up Angry Birds on his phone. He can wait.
Ten, maybe fifteen, minutes later he hears the echo of footsteps in the stairwell. He looks up from his phone and sees Roger standing there in front of him, uncertain look on his face.
“Erik,” Roger breaks the silence; Erik feels idiotic just sitting there and not saying anything. “What... uh, what are you doing here?”
Erik stands, brushing the imaginary dust and dirt from his jeans, sliding his phone into his pocket. Looking at Roger, confused and apprehensive looking Roger, brings a small smile to Erik’s face, a faint blush to his cheeks. Erik wishes he was good with words because then maybe he could describe how Roger makes him feel. The confusion would be gone if Erik only knew how to tell Roger about the way Roger makes him blush, how he stays awake thinking of how Roger looks at him, the funny feeling in his stomach whenever Roger smiles at him, and how he looks forward to his time with Roger more than anything else. There are no words for any of that.
“I... uh.... you... we...,” Erik mumbles, his face on fire as he dares a glance at Roger before returning to stare at the ground, chewing on his bottom lip. “I am sorry,” He finally manages to blurt out, “that I’ve been avoiding you. I needed to think because... because I was confused, and a little angry and upset. And I had to think for a long time about me, and about you. But.... but now I am done thinking and...” He trails off, aware he’s babbling and not really saying anything.
“And?” Roger sounds defeated and looks resigned, as if he’s accepted Erik is here to tell him to stay away and that they can no longer be friends. Erik doesn’t ever want to see a look like this on Roger’s face again.
“I like it when you pull my hair,” Erik tells him without looking away even thought he knows he’s redder than he’s ever been before. “I like the way you make me feel when I’m around you and I want to spend more time with you.”
Erik watches as Roger’s face goes from resignation, to confusion, to disbelief, and finally to something Erik has never seen before. He stands still as Roger reaches a hand up to brush a few stray pieces of Erik’s hair from his face before wrapping a strand around his finger and pulling. Erik laughs and the sound breaks whatever spell Roger is under; a grin lights up the older man’s face.
There’s no one else in the hallway when Erik takes a small step forward, lifting himself just an inch onto his toes and presses their mouths together. Roger feels warm against him, his beard tickling Erik’s face- Erik likes the weight and pressure of Roger’s free hand on his hip. They’re only together for a few seconds when there’s a noise in the stairwell and Erik hurriedly pulls away. He manages to lose his balance and trip over his own feet, falling flat on his ass as Roger doubles over laughing. Erik huffs, throwing a glare up at Roger, who continues laughing as he offers a hand to pull Erik up.
“Why am I so awkward?” Erik laments before Roger hauls him to his feet.
“I think it’s cute.”
Erik didn’t know was possible for his face to burn as red as it is now and he’s not sure if it’s the embarrassment over falling, the kiss, or the fact that Roger thinks his awkwardness is ‘cute’. It’s probably a combination of the three.
“Do you want to go get dinner?” Roger asks him, resting a hand on Erik’s forearm.
“Like... like a date?” Erik is still all shy and mortified mumbles.
“Yes, like a date.”
“Okay, but no where with chopsticks.”
Roger laughs and leans forward for another kiss.
Dog is staring at him. If it’s possible for a puppy to look irritated, then she looks irritated. Today is her last day with Erik and he’s sad as he takes her for a morning walk. He gives her a bath when they get home, the source of her irritation, drying her off and brushing her coat so that she looks nice. Yesterday he bought a red bow and he ties it around her collar as they sit on the couch waiting for Brad. Dog is good company and he’ll miss her.
“What are you doing for the rest of the week?” Brad asks as they load Dog’s crate and belongings into the car.
“Just hanging out with Roger,” Erik mumbles, busying himself by picking Dog up and scratching her behind the ears.
“Really?” Brad looks like the cat who caught the canary. “Sooooooo?” Erik blushes, bites his lip as he grins bashfully and shrugs. “You two are good then?” Erik nods and Brad laughs. “Good, I’m happy for you.”
Erik kisses Dog on her nose and tells her to be good before handing her over to Brad. She cries a little as she goes in the crate and Erik resists the urge to pet her one last time.
“You’ll see Uncle Erik again,” Brad tells her before shutting the door. “Thank you man, I owe you big time.”
“There’s no such thing as debt among friends,” Erik tells him. “And you’ve already paid me back more than you’ll ever know.”
“Aw, look at you being all sentimental.”
“Jerk! I was being nice.” Brad laughs at Erik’s huff. “Tell Becky happy birthday for me.”
Erik waits for them to drive off before pulling out his phone. Roger’s promised him crepes at Pike’s Place and at least three rounds of Fifa 11. Erik might be quiet and often unnoticed, but he is the King of Xbox and he’s not going to lose a game to his boyfriend.
The sky is blue and it’s been nothing but sunshine their entire week off. Erik’s arms are sore and his shoulders are stiff. With the weather warm enough to brave the waters of the sound, Erik dragged Roger to Alki beach to try kayaking in the early morning. It was a bumpy and wet experience but Erik is glad they went. Anytime spent with Roger is worth sore muscles. They’re sitting on Roger’s balcony, drinking coffee and watching the boats on the water. He likes this, sitting next to Roger, fingers intertwined, arms pressed together. Roger’s doing the crossword in the newspaper, occasionally asking for Erik’s help, but Erik is hopeless enough with crosswords in Swedish, never mind English.
“We should set Mike up on a date,” Roger says, eyes not leaving his crossword. “I can’t remember the last time he had one.”
“I don’t know any nice girls,” Erik says after thinking about it for a minute and Roger looks up.
“What type of girls do you know?” There’s a teasing grin on his face.
“Strippers and hookers.” Erik shrugs. “Maybe they’re Mike’s type.”
Roger laughs. “Oh god, you know what we should do? We should set him up an eHarmony account.”
Erik has to set his coffee down because he is laughing so hard. Roger laughs too before letting go of Erik’s hand and brushing a kiss against his cheek. Erik smiles and turns his head so their lips meet. He loves Roger’s laugh, mischievous smile, and now he’s addicted to his kisses. He would never admit it aloud, but he keeps a secret tally of those kisses. The one that stands out the most in his mind took place that morning on the water. Early enough so not that many people were out and far enough away from the shore to be nothing more then brightly colored dots, Roger had pulled his kayak next to Erik’s and tilted it so he could kiss him. Roger likes to kiss him, saying that he has to make up for every time he wanted to but couldn’t, and Erik is more than happy to let Roger initiate them. Erik is still too timid and unsure of himself to be comfortable taking the first step.
Smiling, he rests his head on Roger’s shoulder. The breeze surrounds them with the mixed scent of a nearby coffee roaster and the salty water of the Puget Sound. Roger shifts, wrapping an arm around Erik, looping a bit of Erik’s hair around his finger and softly pulling. They sit like this in silence as Roger finishes his crossword, unnoticed as the world rushes by.
The bluest skies you’ve ever seen are in Seattle...
Erik can count on one hand the number of times Mike has been serious off the pitch. When he comes out of the locker rooms after practice and finds Mike waiting for him, he wonders what has the striker so grim. He follows Mike to the side of the building; they stand underneath an overhang out of the ever present rain and out of earshot of anyone else.
“It’s Roger.”
“Is something wrong with him?” Erik has noticed a deviation in Roger’s behavior over the past few days and he knows he’s not the only one who has seen it.
“You need to stop leading him on. Either do something or tell him no.”
“…. What? I don’t understand….”
“Erik, Roger likes you.” Erik isn’t really sure what Mike is getting at because he likes Roger too; he wouldn’t hang out with him if he didn’t. Erik’s confusion is evident because Mike then clarifies, “Roger is gay, he likes you. You know- likes you as more than just a friend.”
On any other day, Erik would assume Mike is playing a trick on him, but today he is so serious that it leaves no doubt in Erik’s mind that he’s telling the truth. As he thinks back to all the times he’s spent with Roger, Erik feels like an idiot for not seeing it himself. He bites his lip as his cheeks burn and he knows he must be bright red.
“Excuse me,” Erik turns on his heel and leaves a quick as he can.
His teammate calls out to him, as do others he passes, but he doesn’t acknowledge them. He doesn’t acknowledge the rain on his face, the messages on his phone, or the hurt look on Roger’s face as he blows right by him without so much as a glance. He gets into his car and speeds home. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he gets home in one piece as distracted as he is. The only thing Erik doesn’t ignore is the clenching in his stomach, the feeling he experiences whenever Roger is around him. Erik understands now what that feeling is and it scares him and confuses him. He thinks he’s acting like a child, running away from Starfire and coming home to hide under the blankets on his bed but he doesn’t find that he cares.
His cell phone rings and the caller ID flashes Roger’s name; his stomach clenches. Pressing ‘silence’, he ignores the call. Erik needs to figure out what he wants before figuring out what anyone else wants.
August is a good month. Seven wins, one draw, no losses. They become the second MLS team to beat a Mexican team, finally put their dry spell in Texas behind them, and destroy Columbus 6-2. Mike nets his first goal in the MLS and manages two goals against Comunicaciones. Erik’s happiness for Mike breaks any residual awkwardness between them. Erik can’t say the same for Roger though. They barely speak on the field and haven’t hung out off the pitch. Roger is avoiding him and to be honest, Erik is avoiding Roger too. He doesn’t know what to say to him and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to say it. Erik is too shy, too mumbling and awkward, to initiate any conversation with Roger on the subject. It’s pathetic- they’re acting like preteen girls with their first crushes on the playground.
There’s a buzzing noise as his phone vibrates, startling him. It’s a text from Brad, a simple ‘everything ok?’ and Erik texts back ‘yes’. Looking down at the floor beside the couch, he sees two dark eyes staring pitifully up at him. Sighing, he moves over to free up space on his couch. He needs to stop being such a push over.
When he agreed to pet sit for Brad he thought Brad would bring over his golden retriever, not a puppy. A not yet house trained, 12 week old chocolate lab puppy- she was going to be a birthday gift for Brad’s wife. Brad had begged, pleaded, and in the end Erik had given in. The dog doesn’t have a name yet as Brad wanted to let Becky name her, so Erik just calls her ‘Dog’. Erik knows he’s not the most creative person in the world. Dog has been with him for four days and he has a week and a half left. It’s kind of nice though, the way Dog doesn’t make him feel alone. Brad has a crate for her to sleep in but she cries and Erik feels bad; he lets her sleep at the foot of his bed. He’s treating it as a crash course- he wants a dog and Dog is good experience.
His phone buzzes again and ‘I’m coming over’ flashes onto the screen followed by ‘beer and VGs?’. Erik laughs and replies with a yes. He could deal with a few beers and video games for a couple of hours to take him mind off of matters.
“Your dad is coming over,” he tells Dog, who just yawns and curls up in the corner of the couch. “We’ll show him your new tricks.”
Brad is impressed that Dog has learned ‘sit’ and ‘down’. As Erik wakes the sleeping puppy up to demonstrate, she looks up at them as Brad says ‘sit’. She blinks.
“I guess she forgot,” Brad tells him and Erik frowns.
“Sitt!” She clumsily sits. “Ligg.” She lies down and Erik gives Brad a sheepish grin. “I guess I taught her the Swedish words.”
“Unbelievable.”
“What? I don’t speak English in here.”
“You suck.”
Erik glares at Brad and mumbles an insult in Swedish. Turning, he grabs a beer and turns the TV on, sliding Call of Duty into the Xbox and sitting on the floor. Laughing, Brad takes a beer before flopping onto the couch. Dog shies away from Brad, coming to curl up next to Erik and falling back asleep. It’s Brad’s turn to glare. Erik smirks as he tosses Brad a controller and a headset.
“Let’s pwn some noobs.”
Erik has heard this expression many times but is still unsure as to its exact meaning. He just smiles and laughs, like always.
They lose themselves in the game. Erik likes playing with Brad and thinks they make an excellent team. Brad says it’s because they’re practically the same person, except Brad is better looking. Erik just shakes his head. They win every round bar one and only stop when Dog wakes up. Erik recognizes the squirmy body movements she displays when she needs to pee and scoops her up, running outside so his carpet isn’t her victim again. Back inside, she sits dutifully next to him, occasionally nudging his hand for a pet or padding over to her food bowl and pushing it.
“You are a silly little critter,” he tells her in Swedish as she rolls onto her back as he rubs her belly.
“You! Stop making my dog Swedish.”
Erik chuckles and picks the puppy up. She gnaws at his fingers as he sets her on the couch next to Brad. Carefully withdrawing his fingers from her mouth, and sharp puppy teeth, he tells her no and flicks her ear.
“You’re going to be sad when she leaves.”
“I’ve been alone before. I’ll be fine.”
Brad looks like he wants to say something but in the end he just shrugs. Erik grabs his controller and logs them back in.
The sun is setting by the time Erik looks up at the clock and realizes they’ve been sitting there playing for almost four hours. As if on cue, his stomach grumbles. He waits until they finish the round they’re on before taking his headset off. Turning around to ask Brad if he wants to order out, Brad cuts him off.
“Did you and Roger break up?”
“… What?”
Erik doesn’t have any words; all he can do is gape at Brad. He’s sure his face has paled, if that’s even possible, and anxiety starts to claw at his stomach. He thinks he’s going to be sick. His eyes drop to the floor as he turns back around.
“Erik, come on, I’m your friend.” Brad is normally brash; hearing him speak softly is unsettling. “You and Roger have been tiptoeing around each other for weeks.”
“I…. we… but…” Erik sputters, struggling to put a sentence together. “Is that what everyone thinks?”
Brad shrugs. “I haven’t talked to anyone about it. But come on, you and Roger, I’m not blind.”
Erik doesn’t say anything at first. He draws his knees into his chest, chews on his lower lip. The room loses all light in it as the sun finally dies outside. Brad sighs as he leans over to turn a lamp on.
“We were never together,” Erik tells him after a few minutes. The rest of the story comes tumbling out in short and mumbled sentences, he can’t remember the last time he spoke for this long, and he finishes with, “I didn’t think anyone noticed. I don’t know if I want anyone to know. I don’t want to deal with weird looks or shit in the locker room and on the field. I don’t want the media to find out. I just want…” He trails off- he doesn’t know what he wants.
“No one has to know if you don’t want them to,” Brad tells him. “And if they did, do you think Kasey or Zach would let them say anything? Mike would flip a shit and punch anyone that said anything to you or Roger, and I’d help him.” Erik just shakes his head. “You need to do what makes you happy.”
The advice is oddly sage, and ironic, coming from a man who goes by B-Rad. It’s comforting, but Erik isn’t sure if the support of one teammate is enough to overcome the mountain of doubt, and fear, he is facing. He’s not sure if happiness is worth the risk.
Erik is almost late to practice the next morning. Grumpy and hungover, Erik stays silent for practice, speaking only when he needs to. It’s not out of character for Erik to be quiet and no one says anything to him. Mike and Brad shoot him worried glances but Erik avoids making eye contact. Today he’s here to practice and that’s it. It doesn’t go like that though, it never does. Thank god today is their last day before a week off.
It’s tournament Tuesday and as always, everyone’s name goes into a hat for their five a side tournaments. Erik’s name is drawn with James, Jeff, Zach, and Ozzie. Three defenders and two midfielders. They should dominate but they don’t. Erik can’t connect with crosses, shoots wide of the post every time, and manages to completely miss the ball at one point. He trudges off the field grumbling under his breath in Swedish, planning to grab lunch before the others do and eat alone on the bleachers out back.
He’s allowed five minutes of solitude, in which he asks God to not make his life anymore awkward than it already is, before he hears a clinking noise and James’ signature laugh. James and Jeff, Giggles and Sparkles as everyone calls them, round the corner, lunches in hand and a small Boston terrier trotting after them. They sit on either side of him, the dog sitting on the ground next to Jeff, patiently waiting for a bite of food. Erik cracks a smile when the dog, Pain Machine, huffs and lays down, putting his head on his little paws.
There’s a stereotype of defenders- big and stupid, and sure, Erik has known a few like that. However, Erik thinks that defenders don’t get their due: they’re blamed for goals scored against the team and rarely share the spotlight of scoring or setting up a goal. A good defender must be an excellent interpreter of body language, of the subtle motions that indicate changes in direction or speed. You can’t be stupid and be a good defender. James and Jeff are excellent defenders and Erik knows they’re here because they see a change in him.
Setting a small piece of turkey to the side, Erik finishes eating before holding it out. Pain Machine stands and trots over to him, sniffing the meat before taking it. Erik leans down and picks the tiny dog up, wrinkling his nose as the dog licks him on the face, and sets him in the lap. It sniffs him for a minute, more then likely smelling Dog on Erik’s sweater as the puppy had decided to sleep on it the night before.
“Weird choice for a dog,” Erik murmurs, scratching it under it’s chin. “Not intimidating.”
“How dare you! Pain Machine is ferocious,” Jeff tells him. “You better watch your fingers.” Erik looks down at the yawning dog and then back up at Jeff with a raised eyebrow. James giggles. “Well, he’s a hit with the ladies.”
Erik snorts and Jeff shoots him a fake, wounded expression. Jeff doesn’t need any help as he is without a doubt the best looking guy on the team- his nickname is Sparkles for gods sake. In his lap, Pain Machine shifts before laying down and closing his eyes. It must be nice to only think about food and sleep and know that you are loved Erik muses as he continues to pet the dog. They listen to James speak about the event he did yesterday, a fundraiser of sorts. Even hungover and sulky, Erik admires the dedication James has to giving back to the community. It seems like every week he’s working on a new project or event. Erik feels a twinge of guilt; he can’t be assed to go grocery shopping half of the time. His head throbs and he makes a mental note to buy more alcohol.
“Sooooo,” Jeff leans back, puts his elbows on the metal row behind them, looks up at the sky. “Shit finally hit the fan.”
Erik doesn’t know what that means. Erik feels like he doesn’t know what a lot of things mean or are these days. Beside him, James is struck by a sudden, albeit fake, coughing attack and has a pinched look on his face as he stares at Jeff. Jeff rolls his eyes at James.
“It’s not like it isn’t obvious.” Erik shifts, unsure as to what is obvious, uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Startled by the sudden movement, Pain Machine stands and jumps back down to the ground, sitting by Jeff. “Roger and Mike have been fighting all week and now-”
“What Jeff means to say,” James cuts Jeff off, “is that you seem upset and we wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Erik shrugs, looks down at his hands. He supposes he should be glad that someone cares enough to ask but he can’t talk about it. Erik still hasn’t figured anything out and he’s not about to offer up a scattered and nonsensical explanation.
“I don’t know why they’re fighting,” Erik mumbles; it’s not the truth but it’s not a lie either. “I just had a bad night, I’ll be okay.”
The two defenders exchange a glance. Erik knows he isn’t fooling them but it’s the best they’re going to get. He wonders if they’ll corner Roger and Mike later to try to pry information from them. Drama llama as Roger would say. Erik frowns; he misses Roger. He wishes there was someone he could talk to. It’s not that he didn’t listen to what Brad had to say or that he doesn’t trust James or Jeff, but he needs someone else. Someone not on the team, someone not involved, someone who wouldn’t judge. Something clicks in his mind- there is someone he can talk to. Pulling out his phone, he types out a quick message and sends it.
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he smiles and nods. James and Jeff look at him like he’s insane. Pain Machine barks at a squirrel.
“It will be okay,” he says, mostly to himself, but also to reassure his teammates that he’s not crazy. “We’ll all be okay.”
Giggles, Sparkles, Freebird, Pain Machine. Seattle is as weird as it is wonderful. Erik wouldn’t want it any other way. Except maybe without the hangover.
“Um… you said I could call you… if we needed to talk.”
“… We talk all the time.”
“… about… Anton, I don’t know what to do.”
“What are we even talking about? Erik, I can’t help you if I don’t know-”
“Roger… I… and him…”
“What? Oh… uh… really?”
“… I don’t know. I’m confused.”
“Well is he…?”
“Yeah.”
“And are you?”
“That’s what I’m confused about.”
They sigh at the same time.
“Erik, I can’t help you if you don’t know. That’s something you need to figure out on your own.”
“He’s the only one.” Erik’s face is burning and he wants so bad to hang up the phone and pretend this conversation never happened.
“The only one?”
“That I’ve ever been attracted to.” The words are quiet and quick- it’s the first time Erik’s admitted as much aloud. “I don’t know if this is real or just something in passing.” There is silence on Anton’s end of the line. “How did you figure it out?”
“The same way all gay players do- you realize you’d rather bone Beckham instead of Posh.”
Erik snorts. He thinks back to his wall as a teenager and to the first game of the season. He remembers every time Roger has called him Freebird, pulled his hair, sat with him on the bus, and the look on Roger’s face when he stops talking and just stares at him when he thinks Erik isn’t looking. Erik doesn’t want those things to go away- he doesn’t want Roger to be a memory and a regret of what could have been.
Erik sits in his car for fifteen minutes. A woman walking her dog has passed him twice and he busies himself with his phone so he doesn’t look like some creep sitting in a car for no reason. He’s reached for the handle seven times to let himself out of the car but loses courage every time. Erik tells himself that he stands in front of nearly forty thousand people at least once a week and that alone shows that he is brave, but his pep talks aren’t working. It’s easier to let down thousands of people whom he doesn’t know then to even think about letting down Roger. Erik never wants to let down Roger but has a feeling he already has.
The blame doesn’t lay fully on him though; Erik thinks Roger should have said something. Everyone on the team knows that Erik is often oblivious to the happenings around him and as one of his closest fiends, Roger should have known Erik wouldn’t have seen what is now obvious. Glaringly obvious; Erik’s face heats up when he thinks of how stupid he can be.
When the woman with the dog walks by again, this time pausing to stare at him, he thinks enough is enough and gets out of the car. Checking his appearance in the side view mirror, he pushes his hair back behind his ears. Trudging up to the gate he slides the card, lent to him by Mike with a knowing glance and a wink, through the card reader. He double checks the apartment number four times, silly as he’s been here more times than he can count. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, he knocks on the door.
Roger isn’t home. Erik sighs and resists the urge to beat his head against the door and curse the universe for his continued streak of bad luck. There’s this itching feeling to run away, to procrastinate and put this off for another day. Erik knows that day will never come. Today has to be that day. Erik sits down on the concrete floor and pulls up Angry Birds on his phone. He can wait.
Ten, maybe fifteen, minutes later he hears the echo of footsteps in the stairwell. He looks up from his phone and sees Roger standing there in front of him, uncertain look on his face.
“Erik,” Roger breaks the silence; Erik feels idiotic just sitting there and not saying anything. “What... uh, what are you doing here?”
Erik stands, brushing the imaginary dust and dirt from his jeans, sliding his phone into his pocket. Looking at Roger, confused and apprehensive looking Roger, brings a small smile to Erik’s face, a faint blush to his cheeks. Erik wishes he was good with words because then maybe he could describe how Roger makes him feel. The confusion would be gone if Erik only knew how to tell Roger about the way Roger makes him blush, how he stays awake thinking of how Roger looks at him, the funny feeling in his stomach whenever Roger smiles at him, and how he looks forward to his time with Roger more than anything else. There are no words for any of that.
“I... uh.... you... we...,” Erik mumbles, his face on fire as he dares a glance at Roger before returning to stare at the ground, chewing on his bottom lip. “I am sorry,” He finally manages to blurt out, “that I’ve been avoiding you. I needed to think because... because I was confused, and a little angry and upset. And I had to think for a long time about me, and about you. But.... but now I am done thinking and...” He trails off, aware he’s babbling and not really saying anything.
“And?” Roger sounds defeated and looks resigned, as if he’s accepted Erik is here to tell him to stay away and that they can no longer be friends. Erik doesn’t ever want to see a look like this on Roger’s face again.
“I like it when you pull my hair,” Erik tells him without looking away even thought he knows he’s redder than he’s ever been before. “I like the way you make me feel when I’m around you and I want to spend more time with you.”
Erik watches as Roger’s face goes from resignation, to confusion, to disbelief, and finally to something Erik has never seen before. He stands still as Roger reaches a hand up to brush a few stray pieces of Erik’s hair from his face before wrapping a strand around his finger and pulling. Erik laughs and the sound breaks whatever spell Roger is under; a grin lights up the older man’s face.
There’s no one else in the hallway when Erik takes a small step forward, lifting himself just an inch onto his toes and presses their mouths together. Roger feels warm against him, his beard tickling Erik’s face- Erik likes the weight and pressure of Roger’s free hand on his hip. They’re only together for a few seconds when there’s a noise in the stairwell and Erik hurriedly pulls away. He manages to lose his balance and trip over his own feet, falling flat on his ass as Roger doubles over laughing. Erik huffs, throwing a glare up at Roger, who continues laughing as he offers a hand to pull Erik up.
“Why am I so awkward?” Erik laments before Roger hauls him to his feet.
“I think it’s cute.”
Erik didn’t know was possible for his face to burn as red as it is now and he’s not sure if it’s the embarrassment over falling, the kiss, or the fact that Roger thinks his awkwardness is ‘cute’. It’s probably a combination of the three.
“Do you want to go get dinner?” Roger asks him, resting a hand on Erik’s forearm.
“Like... like a date?” Erik is still all shy and mortified mumbles.
“Yes, like a date.”
“Okay, but no where with chopsticks.”
Roger laughs and leans forward for another kiss.
Dog is staring at him. If it’s possible for a puppy to look irritated, then she looks irritated. Today is her last day with Erik and he’s sad as he takes her for a morning walk. He gives her a bath when they get home, the source of her irritation, drying her off and brushing her coat so that she looks nice. Yesterday he bought a red bow and he ties it around her collar as they sit on the couch waiting for Brad. Dog is good company and he’ll miss her.
“What are you doing for the rest of the week?” Brad asks as they load Dog’s crate and belongings into the car.
“Just hanging out with Roger,” Erik mumbles, busying himself by picking Dog up and scratching her behind the ears.
“Really?” Brad looks like the cat who caught the canary. “Sooooooo?” Erik blushes, bites his lip as he grins bashfully and shrugs. “You two are good then?” Erik nods and Brad laughs. “Good, I’m happy for you.”
Erik kisses Dog on her nose and tells her to be good before handing her over to Brad. She cries a little as she goes in the crate and Erik resists the urge to pet her one last time.
“You’ll see Uncle Erik again,” Brad tells her before shutting the door. “Thank you man, I owe you big time.”
“There’s no such thing as debt among friends,” Erik tells him. “And you’ve already paid me back more than you’ll ever know.”
“Aw, look at you being all sentimental.”
“Jerk! I was being nice.” Brad laughs at Erik’s huff. “Tell Becky happy birthday for me.”
Erik waits for them to drive off before pulling out his phone. Roger’s promised him crepes at Pike’s Place and at least three rounds of Fifa 11. Erik might be quiet and often unnoticed, but he is the King of Xbox and he’s not going to lose a game to his boyfriend.
The sky is blue and it’s been nothing but sunshine their entire week off. Erik’s arms are sore and his shoulders are stiff. With the weather warm enough to brave the waters of the sound, Erik dragged Roger to Alki beach to try kayaking in the early morning. It was a bumpy and wet experience but Erik is glad they went. Anytime spent with Roger is worth sore muscles. They’re sitting on Roger’s balcony, drinking coffee and watching the boats on the water. He likes this, sitting next to Roger, fingers intertwined, arms pressed together. Roger’s doing the crossword in the newspaper, occasionally asking for Erik’s help, but Erik is hopeless enough with crosswords in Swedish, never mind English.
“We should set Mike up on a date,” Roger says, eyes not leaving his crossword. “I can’t remember the last time he had one.”
“I don’t know any nice girls,” Erik says after thinking about it for a minute and Roger looks up.
“What type of girls do you know?” There’s a teasing grin on his face.
“Strippers and hookers.” Erik shrugs. “Maybe they’re Mike’s type.”
Roger laughs. “Oh god, you know what we should do? We should set him up an eHarmony account.”
Erik has to set his coffee down because he is laughing so hard. Roger laughs too before letting go of Erik’s hand and brushing a kiss against his cheek. Erik smiles and turns his head so their lips meet. He loves Roger’s laugh, mischievous smile, and now he’s addicted to his kisses. He would never admit it aloud, but he keeps a secret tally of those kisses. The one that stands out the most in his mind took place that morning on the water. Early enough so not that many people were out and far enough away from the shore to be nothing more then brightly colored dots, Roger had pulled his kayak next to Erik’s and tilted it so he could kiss him. Roger likes to kiss him, saying that he has to make up for every time he wanted to but couldn’t, and Erik is more than happy to let Roger initiate them. Erik is still too timid and unsure of himself to be comfortable taking the first step.
Smiling, he rests his head on Roger’s shoulder. The breeze surrounds them with the mixed scent of a nearby coffee roaster and the salty water of the Puget Sound. Roger shifts, wrapping an arm around Erik, looping a bit of Erik’s hair around his finger and softly pulling. They sit like this in silence as Roger finishes his crossword, unnoticed as the world rushes by.
The bluest skies you’ve ever seen are in Seattle...