okay I am a horrible procrastinator even when it comes to reading fics, apparently. anyway I'm ready for a mega long comment! :D
they respect him despite his silence, respect the quiet way he allows his feet to talk for him and swears ferociously on the pitch if any opposition thinks they can take advantage of his size and the way he rolls his eyes with casual indifference at their puns, above them even if he didn't understand them. I just feel like this paragraph describes Silva perfectly. I especially love the part where it says "the quiet way he allows his feet to talk for him", because Silva doesn't need to be loud or raucous or anything other than who he is - just quietly brilliant, so brilliant that you'd have to be blind not to see it.
“Joder,” cries Silva, because it’s been boiling inside him for too long, and because none of the beginnings of Villa’s sentences sounded like they would have endings he would have liked. “Joder, David, why didn’t you just call?” His fingers are digging sharply enough into Villa’s shoulders to leave marks, marks Villa never allowed him to leave, because he was always somebody else’s, Barca’s, Pati’s, his ambition’s. JUST. KILL. ME. NOW. ;___________;
Silva doesn’t need him to tell him that; he knew how regret tasted-- like blood on your lips from a kiss; like the scent of an old shirt that you forgot to return and refused to throw out; like paella or fabada or sidra or Spain. kay, you need to stop writing things like this, because you'll kill people with such beauty, lady. I mean, look at me, I'm already dead (yes, I have the power to write from beyond the grave, k?)
David Villa was not an introspective man, but David Villa was not a natural athlete either-- at least, not at birth; he had kicked and pushed and forced and worked himself to have enough stamina for the game, and he was kicking and pushing and forcing himself to introspect now, because the only thing David Villa was truly a natural at, was being able to do whatever it took to do anything, and that was a blessing and a curse and Silva’s biggest weakness right now. I never really thought about Villa that way before but now that I read this, this is exactly who and how and what he is, exactly. and that's what I love so much about him, how much grit and determination and sheer willpower he has, how hard he tries and pushes and does what it takes to get what he wants. and you just captured it like you have some kind of camera that snaps shots of people's souls or something.
“Ey, Guaje,” Silva whispers back, looking up at him. “We’ll be okay,” he says, and he’s reminded of other times, other lives, other whispers in other hotel rooms, and World Cups and promises, and he thinks of many things, how the sound of rain is different in many cities, and how sometimes kisses and the sea taste the same, and how he doesn’t want to live with regrets when he can live with this instead, and he thinks things can sometimes be better than okay, and then he closes his eyes and stops thinking and starts kissing Villa instead, and this time, they pause for breath, but they don’t stop. OKAY I WASN'T EVEN GOING TO C&P THIS ENORMOUS THING BUT NOW THAT I READ IT AGAIN, I COULDN'T HELP IT. this is just...it captures everything about this fic, everything about their separation, everything.
okay my comment exceeded the character limit so I will have to post another one! (wow, I can't believe it. that's never happened to me and my essays comments O.O)
"he doesn't want to live with regrets when he can live with this instead" - I really love this line because although they've both been idiots in this thing (yes, Silva, he should have called you, but he's Villa and his skull is as thick as an armoured tank and really, telephone lines do work both ways), they both find it in themselves, in their own unique ways, to do what it takes to get back together. and maybe they're not getting back what they had, exactly, but they're getting something back and that something is infinitely precious and they won't let it slip through their fingers again, I don't think, and I love that this fic ends on that note, because that's a lesson that they should've learned a long time ago, that holding on is about more than not letting go.
okay, if I haven't bored you to death with my insanely long comment yet, I just have to say that I love this fic. there's this certain way you write and a certain way you write them that I really like. I can't quite describe it. it's just something that pours through the words. you captured them both really well and I love the extra Man C cameos (although I know nothing about Man C and frankly couldn't care less) and Stevie - omg, Stevie. I love how he gives Silva advice here (trying to talk to him using Google Translated stuff, oh Silva, don't be like Iker now) and how he takes heart from the conversation and reconciles with Xabi. everybody's getting a happy ending here (or so I'd like to think) and that makes me happy :D this whole fic just makes me happy, although sometimes I want to punch Villa and sometimes I want to shake Silva, and I really, really enjoyed it. wonderful job <3
ksmdlfsldflksdlkfsdf OKAY WOW THE ONLY REASON I HAVEN'T REPLIED TO THIS IS BECAUSE I AM SO OVERWHELMED sdfjdf,nsddlsf and also because i have shitty internet/am on vacation, but know that i read this and it warmed the cockles of my heart and will reply as soon as i can :)
i am a horrible procrastinator in replying to comments, but i really love doing this, so hi w/ late reply! hehe.
YESSSS. i love that about silva-- he simultaneously reinforces the fact that he is quiet, he likes listening, he's not loud and he doesn't call attention to himself, but he's still fierce as fuck and if you mess with him, well, just ask podolski what happens. he's really not afraid of anything or anyone, but he just keeps to himself whenever he doesn't have to confront anyone.
I LOVE THE IDEA of ambitious!villa pushing himself to do anything he puts his mind to. it was inspired by some articles i read that said when he was a kid, his stamina was terrible and all. i can just imagine him to be the type to push past everything (including pushing himself to the extent that IT CAUSES HIS LEG TO BREAK sdkfjsd villa.)
YESSS i felt that silva hadn't apologized enough in this fic, hahaha, b/c he could have called to, but i'm glad the dynamic/reunion was believable despite that.
that holding on is about more than not letting go.
oh what a pretty description of it! ;_;
thank you so much for your comment :D :D :D. it really made me smile and slkdfsf i am so glad stevie was believable (ah gtranslate, the bane and the savior alike of modern footballers) and just ty ty so much <3
they respect him despite his silence, respect the quiet way he allows his feet to talk for him and swears ferociously on the pitch if any opposition thinks they can take advantage of his size and the way he rolls his eyes with casual indifference at their puns, above them even if he didn't understand them. I just feel like this paragraph describes Silva perfectly. I especially love the part where it says "the quiet way he allows his feet to talk for him", because Silva doesn't need to be loud or raucous or anything other than who he is - just quietly brilliant, so brilliant that you'd have to be blind not to see it.
“Joder,” cries Silva, because it’s been boiling inside him for too long, and because none of the beginnings of Villa’s sentences sounded like they would have endings he would have liked. “Joder, David, why didn’t you just call?” His fingers are digging sharply enough into Villa’s shoulders to leave marks, marks Villa never allowed him to leave, because he was always somebody else’s, Barca’s, Pati’s, his ambition’s. JUST. KILL. ME. NOW. ;___________;
Silva doesn’t need him to tell him that; he knew how regret tasted-- like blood on your lips from a kiss; like the scent of an old shirt that you forgot to return and refused to throw out; like paella or fabada or sidra or Spain. kay, you need to stop writing things like this, because you'll kill people with such beauty, lady. I mean, look at me, I'm already dead (yes, I have the power to write from beyond the grave, k?)
David Villa was not an introspective man, but David Villa was not a natural athlete either-- at least, not at birth; he had kicked and pushed and forced and worked himself to have enough stamina for the game, and he was kicking and pushing and forcing himself to introspect now, because the only thing David Villa was truly a natural at, was being able to do whatever it took to do anything, and that was a blessing and a curse and Silva’s biggest weakness right now. I never really thought about Villa that way before but now that I read this, this is exactly who and how and what he is, exactly. and that's what I love so much about him, how much grit and determination and sheer willpower he has, how hard he tries and pushes and does what it takes to get what he wants. and you just captured it like you have some kind of camera that snaps shots of people's souls or something.
“Ey, Guaje,” Silva whispers back, looking up at him. “We’ll be okay,” he says, and he’s reminded of other times, other lives, other whispers in other hotel rooms, and World Cups and promises, and he thinks of many things, how the sound of rain is different in many cities, and how sometimes kisses and the sea taste the same, and how he doesn’t want to live with regrets when he can live with this instead, and he thinks things can sometimes be better than okay, and then he closes his eyes and stops thinking and starts kissing Villa instead, and this time, they pause for breath, but they don’t stop. OKAY I WASN'T EVEN GOING TO C&P THIS ENORMOUS THING BUT NOW THAT I READ IT AGAIN, I COULDN'T HELP IT. this is just...it captures everything about this fic, everything about their separation, everything.
okay my comment exceeded the character limit so I will have to post another one! (wow, I can't believe it. that's never happened to me and my essays comments O.O)
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okay, if I haven't bored you to death with my insanely long comment yet, I just have to say that I love this fic. there's this certain way you write and a certain way you write them that I really like. I can't quite describe it. it's just something that pours through the words. you captured them both really well and I love the extra Man C cameos (although I know nothing about Man C and frankly couldn't care less) and Stevie - omg, Stevie. I love how he gives Silva advice here (trying to talk to him using Google Translated stuff, oh Silva, don't be like Iker now) and how he takes heart from the conversation and reconciles with Xabi. everybody's getting a happy ending here (or so I'd like to think) and that makes me happy :D this whole fic just makes me happy, although sometimes I want to punch Villa and sometimes I want to shake Silva, and I really, really enjoyed it. wonderful job <3
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YESSSS. i love that about silva-- he simultaneously reinforces the fact that he is quiet, he likes listening, he's not loud and he doesn't call attention to himself, but he's still fierce as fuck and if you mess with him, well, just ask podolski what happens. he's really not afraid of anything or anyone, but he just keeps to himself whenever he doesn't have to confront anyone.
I LOVE THE IDEA of ambitious!villa pushing himself to do anything he puts his mind to. it was inspired by some articles i read that said when he was a kid, his stamina was terrible and all. i can just imagine him to be the type to push past everything (including pushing himself to the extent that IT CAUSES HIS LEG TO BREAK sdkfjsd villa.)
YESSS i felt that silva hadn't apologized enough in this fic, hahaha, b/c he could have called to, but i'm glad the dynamic/reunion was believable despite that.
that holding on is about more than not letting go.
oh what a pretty description of it! ;_;
thank you so much for your comment :D :D :D. it really made me smile and slkdfsf i am so glad stevie was believable (ah gtranslate, the bane and the savior alike of modern footballers) and just ty ty so much <3
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