(no subject)
title: someday, you will miss me.
characters: fernando torres/sergio ramos, implied david villa/david silva. olalla dominguez.
rating: pg-13.
disclaimer: i'm lying.
word count: 2160.
notes: yeah, i just wanted to try out writing again. hahaha. don't really like this, but oh well. the idea for the villa part was taken from looking for alaska. COULD possibly be a companion to didn't we almost have it all?, but from fernando's pov. kind of. not really. maybe if you squint. hahaha.
“What’s the point in falling in love? Why set yourself up for heartbreak?”
“It’s not always bad.”
“It is enough of the time.”
i.
Fernando remembers the first time quite clearly. It was raining outside, and Sergio had said that he’d give Fernando a ride home from training. He can’t remember how Sergio had ended up in his bed, but he does remember this: it wasn’t at all how first times usually go. It wasn’t messy or rough, tense or uncomfortable. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow, languid movements leading from a quick soft kiss to the corner of Sergio’s lips to pulling off his shirt with his heartbeat so loud against his ribcage that he swore Sergio heard it. It was his eyes not leaving Sergio’s, making sure he wasn’t hurting him.
It wasn’t at all like the first times that Fernando was used to. If he was quite honest with himself, he’d say that maybe it was because he felt something for Sergio, something more than a fuck.
And Fernando still isn’t sure if it was the best or worst thing that has ever happened to him.
ii.
Sergio breaks up with his girlfriend just before a national team call-up. He’s bitter and upset the entire time. He doesn’t open up to anyone about it, not even Iker, and Fernando is more than a little worried. (If he’s willing to admit that he’s worried in the first place.)
He corners him one day. “Are you okay?”
Sergio shrugs, not quite meeting Fernando’s eyes. “Yeah, sure.”
“Sergio,” Fernando says, and he’s got that tone in his voice.
Sergio eyes him closely. He exhales sharply and looks down at his hands. He sighs quietly. “What’s the stupid point in falling in love? I mean, why set yourself up for heartbreak?”
Fernando frowns a little. “It’s not always bad.”
“It is enough of the time,” Sergio says and he just looks so damn sad that Fernando reaches forward. He has him wrapped in a tight hug, and it doesn’t take long before Sergio breaks. “She cheated on me,” he mutters. “She said it was because she knew I had someone on the side.”
He doesn’t say that it’s Fernando’s fault, he doesn’t blame him. Instead, he cries into Fernando’s shirt and vows to never fall in love again.
iii.
Fernando gets home around 3 am, and Olalla is still up. She smiles wearily when she sees him, sighs into his shirt when he wraps his arms around her. “Are you insane?” He asks. “You should be sleeping, it’s not good-”
“I can’t sleep without you,” her voice is muffled. “You should know that by now.”
He feels sort of like an idiot, and presses kisses to the top of her head. “I love you,” he says quietly.
“Really?” She sounds unsure and it makes Fernando’s heart stutter.
“I love you,” he says more forcefully.
The fact that he truly doesn’t know anymore is what scares him.
iv.
“Come over,” Sergio drawls into the phone.
Fernando glances at his daughter, asleep on the couch in her mother’s lap. He says, “I’m not sure I can.”
He hears Sergio suck in a breath. “Alright, well.” He stops. His voice sounds so goddamn tired and broken that Fernando doesn’t even allow himself time to think.
He says, “I’ll be over in a few.”
He pushes Sergio onto his bed within moments of reaching his place, kisses him so hard that Sergio has to pull back to take deep breathes. “Fernando,” he says, as if he has something quite significant to say, but the affection in his voice scares Fernando so he shuts him up with another kiss.
Sergio presses his face into Fernando’s neck when he comes, and Fernando swears he hears something startlingly close to ‘Fernando’ muttered against his skin. He closes his eyes and tries to pretend that it’s Olalla he’s fucking, to help ease his guilt. But he can’t even hold up the charade, not even to himself, when it’s Sergio’s face he thinks of when he comes, Sergio’s name that threatens to escape his lips.
v.
Fernando calls him. He’s mildly drunk. It’s late at night, and he’s not even positive that Sergio will be awake.
But he calls him.
Sergio’s voice is muffled, like he’s got his comforter pressed right against his phone. “Fernando?”
“Sergio?” He asks even though he’s the one who called. “Sergio!”
Sergio can almost hear the smile in his voice. He winces when he realizes he’s drunk. “Fernando, go to bed.”
Fernando says, “Sergio, I need to tell you something.”
“Fernando-”
“No. No, no, no, no. I need to tell you something, Sergio,” he says. “What I feel for you,” he starts. “It’s what they write movies and books and songs and movies about, Sergio. It’s, it’s-” He’s gotten quiet, and Sergio hopes he’s sobered up a bit because of his proclamation. God, he wishes he weren’t drunk. He wishes he’d remember it in the morning.
“Fernando?” He asks after a few minutes.
And then he hears it: snoring.
vi.
He’s not sure how he and Villa even got into A Serious Conversation, but somehow it has happened and they’re sitting on the floor of Fernando’s room with melancholy music playing in the background. The only things in between them are a notepad and pencil, from where they were playing tic-tac-toe.
Villa says, “I wish I was drunk,” and Fernando starts to laugh like he really is drunk, a soft bubble that erupts into something wild and unnecessary. Villa only stares at him. “I really, really wish I was drunk,” he mutters.
Fernando stops after a while. He turns his face so that he’s looking at Villa now. “It can’t be so bad,” he says. “You should talk to him, you know.”
Villa’s face is a mixture of his emotions: embarrassed and upset and angry that he’s even upset in the first place. “Can we not talk about it anymore?” Fernando shrugs and Villa peers at him. “You want to join in in this-” He gestures between them somewhat awkwardly. “Heart-to-heart, uh, thing.”
“Not really,” he mutters, and it’s all just ridiculous, that he’s even sitting here at all. Ridiculous.
Villa watches him for a while before he sighs a little. Rubs a palm to his face. “You love him, don’t you?”
Fernando’s head snaps up. “No, I don’t.”
Villa holds up a finger, like he’s thought of something quite momentous. “Hold on,” he says, and grabs the notepad and pencil. Starts scribbling on it like he’s figured out some difficult calculus equation. (Fernando wonders why on earth he’s even doing math at a time like this and-) Villa suddenly looks up and says, “I just made some calculations, and it turns out that you’re full of shit.”
vii.
They’re on the phone. Fernando is juggling a football in the backyard.
“So,” he says. “We’re thinking about names.”
Fernando can hear Sergio rummaging through his refrigerator. He smiles a little, because he knows that it is full of shit that Sergio hates and will never eat. He knows Sergio will end up with either a beer or an apple. Sergio replies, a little distractedly, “What about ‘Sergio’? That’s a nice name.”
He can almost hear Sergio’s smirk. Fernando snorts, “You’re such a dick. You never help me when I need you to.” Sergio laughs and Fernando hears him close the refrigerator. He asks, “What’d you end up picking?”
“What - oh,” another chuckle. “Nah, I just grabbed an apple. I got to stay healthy if I want to keep this body. I don’t want to turn into you.”
“What?! I’m not - you bastard. I’m all muscle.” He pats his stomach for good measure. Sergio laughs loudly at that. They fall into an easy silence after a bit, with Fernando now kicking the ball around and Sergio chewing on his apple. Finally, Fernando says a little idly, “What about ‘Fernando’?”
“Hmm?” Sergio asks at first, confused, before he gets it. “I like it,” he answers and Fernando can hear the sincerity in his voice.
viii.
“What’s it like, being in love?” Sergio asks one night when they’re laying in bed, dazed after sex and tired of maybe something much deeper than that.
Fernando glances at him curiously. “What?”
Sergio’s hands play at the comforter, idly picking at here and there. He’s making it painfully obvious that he’s trying his best to act indifferent. “I mean,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t had a steady girlfriend in a while, you know? And the ones I’ve had - I don’t know.”
“Uh, well,” Fernando starts, clearing his throat. “It feels like you’re having sex for more reasons than just sex.”
Sergio laughs, a soft look in his eyes like he gets it. He shakes his head. “Asshole.”
Fernando smirks, leans over and presses a kiss to Sergio’s shoulder. “You’ll know when you are, Sergio.”
He squeezes his eyes shut when he sees the look in Sergio’s eyes. You’d have to be blind not to see it, but Fernando thinks he’d rather be the blind man than have to acknowledge something that he’s unwilling to admit is true.
ix.
Fernando is out shopping one day when he sees it in an Adidas shop. It is one of those headbands Sergio always wears, the customized one with his name on it. He can’t believe they’re actually selling them in stores now, and calls out to Olalla to come see. She laughs and jokes about buying one.
He ends up buying one.
He thinks it’ll be funny if at the next La Roja call-up, he shows up with this on his head.
He never takes it out of the bag, keeps it hidden in his bedside table.
x.
After they play Manchester City, he goes out to drinks with Silva.
“How are you?” he asks earnestly.
Silva shrugs a little. “Good, good. Trying to learn English,” he laughs timidly.
Fernando knows he shouldn’t do this, but he does it anyway. “You should give Villa a call.”
“What?”
“Uh, well. It’s just,” he clears his throat. “It’s just that you guys were good friends, and all.”
Silva looks uncomfortable. “Yeah. I mean, we text.”
“I just think he misses you, is all. I was talking to him a while back, and…” He trails off, offers a shrug. Uncomfortable as well now.
“Alright,” Silva says. And then, “I talked to Sergio a while back, too.”
Fernando raises an eyebrow. “Okay,” is all he says.
“I just meant, you should probably give him a call, too.”
Fernando’s face hardens momentarily before he turns back to the drink in his hand. “I can’t give him what he wants. Whatever he told you. Or whatever,” he says softly. “I’m married.”
Silva raises an eyebrow. “So is Villa,” he says a little flatly.
And therein lies the problem.
Later, he texts Sergio: hope u didn’t forget 2eat an apple today. :)
He hopes it’s enough to get what he can never say aloud across: I’m thinking about you. And I miss you.
xi.
Fernando remembers the last time even better than the first. He’s pulling on his clothes and Sergio just lays there, a look on his face that says he’s contemplating something quite significant. “What is it?” Fernando asks as he turns to him.
Sergio shrugs at first, but then, “I just. I need to know.” He takes a painfully slow breath. “Do you love me?”
“What are you-” he stops. “Sergio,” is all he says.
Sergio opens his mouth to say something. Fernando never finds out what because he crushes his lips against his almost violently. He digs his hands into his hips, kisses him until they’re both breathless. Sergio lies back down and stares up at the ceiling. “Fernando.” And then, “I,” he stops and shakes his head, a sad smile fixed on his face. He knows why Fernando had kissed him when he kissed him. He knows. Finally, he says, “You won’t be here in the morning, will you?”
And they both know the answer to that, because Fernando never stays the night. Later, when Fernando is leaving and Sergio is asleep, he whispers unspoken words into Sergio’s hair. Hopes that it’s enough even though they both know it’s not.
characters: fernando torres/sergio ramos, implied david villa/david silva. olalla dominguez.
rating: pg-13.
disclaimer: i'm lying.
word count: 2160.
notes: yeah, i just wanted to try out writing again. hahaha. don't really like this, but oh well. the idea for the villa part was taken from looking for alaska. COULD possibly be a companion to didn't we almost have it all?, but from fernando's pov. kind of. not really. maybe if you squint. hahaha.
“What’s the point in falling in love? Why set yourself up for heartbreak?”
“It’s not always bad.”
“It is enough of the time.”
i.
Fernando remembers the first time quite clearly. It was raining outside, and Sergio had said that he’d give Fernando a ride home from training. He can’t remember how Sergio had ended up in his bed, but he does remember this: it wasn’t at all how first times usually go. It wasn’t messy or rough, tense or uncomfortable. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow, languid movements leading from a quick soft kiss to the corner of Sergio’s lips to pulling off his shirt with his heartbeat so loud against his ribcage that he swore Sergio heard it. It was his eyes not leaving Sergio’s, making sure he wasn’t hurting him.
It wasn’t at all like the first times that Fernando was used to. If he was quite honest with himself, he’d say that maybe it was because he felt something for Sergio, something more than a fuck.
And Fernando still isn’t sure if it was the best or worst thing that has ever happened to him.
ii.
Sergio breaks up with his girlfriend just before a national team call-up. He’s bitter and upset the entire time. He doesn’t open up to anyone about it, not even Iker, and Fernando is more than a little worried. (If he’s willing to admit that he’s worried in the first place.)
He corners him one day. “Are you okay?”
Sergio shrugs, not quite meeting Fernando’s eyes. “Yeah, sure.”
“Sergio,” Fernando says, and he’s got that tone in his voice.
Sergio eyes him closely. He exhales sharply and looks down at his hands. He sighs quietly. “What’s the stupid point in falling in love? I mean, why set yourself up for heartbreak?”
Fernando frowns a little. “It’s not always bad.”
“It is enough of the time,” Sergio says and he just looks so damn sad that Fernando reaches forward. He has him wrapped in a tight hug, and it doesn’t take long before Sergio breaks. “She cheated on me,” he mutters. “She said it was because she knew I had someone on the side.”
He doesn’t say that it’s Fernando’s fault, he doesn’t blame him. Instead, he cries into Fernando’s shirt and vows to never fall in love again.
iii.
Fernando gets home around 3 am, and Olalla is still up. She smiles wearily when she sees him, sighs into his shirt when he wraps his arms around her. “Are you insane?” He asks. “You should be sleeping, it’s not good-”
“I can’t sleep without you,” her voice is muffled. “You should know that by now.”
He feels sort of like an idiot, and presses kisses to the top of her head. “I love you,” he says quietly.
“Really?” She sounds unsure and it makes Fernando’s heart stutter.
“I love you,” he says more forcefully.
The fact that he truly doesn’t know anymore is what scares him.
iv.
“Come over,” Sergio drawls into the phone.
Fernando glances at his daughter, asleep on the couch in her mother’s lap. He says, “I’m not sure I can.”
He hears Sergio suck in a breath. “Alright, well.” He stops. His voice sounds so goddamn tired and broken that Fernando doesn’t even allow himself time to think.
He says, “I’ll be over in a few.”
He pushes Sergio onto his bed within moments of reaching his place, kisses him so hard that Sergio has to pull back to take deep breathes. “Fernando,” he says, as if he has something quite significant to say, but the affection in his voice scares Fernando so he shuts him up with another kiss.
Sergio presses his face into Fernando’s neck when he comes, and Fernando swears he hears something startlingly close to ‘Fernando’ muttered against his skin. He closes his eyes and tries to pretend that it’s Olalla he’s fucking, to help ease his guilt. But he can’t even hold up the charade, not even to himself, when it’s Sergio’s face he thinks of when he comes, Sergio’s name that threatens to escape his lips.
v.
Fernando calls him. He’s mildly drunk. It’s late at night, and he’s not even positive that Sergio will be awake.
But he calls him.
Sergio’s voice is muffled, like he’s got his comforter pressed right against his phone. “Fernando?”
“Sergio?” He asks even though he’s the one who called. “Sergio!”
Sergio can almost hear the smile in his voice. He winces when he realizes he’s drunk. “Fernando, go to bed.”
Fernando says, “Sergio, I need to tell you something.”
“Fernando-”
“No. No, no, no, no. I need to tell you something, Sergio,” he says. “What I feel for you,” he starts. “It’s what they write movies and books and songs and movies about, Sergio. It’s, it’s-” He’s gotten quiet, and Sergio hopes he’s sobered up a bit because of his proclamation. God, he wishes he weren’t drunk. He wishes he’d remember it in the morning.
“Fernando?” He asks after a few minutes.
And then he hears it: snoring.
vi.
He’s not sure how he and Villa even got into A Serious Conversation, but somehow it has happened and they’re sitting on the floor of Fernando’s room with melancholy music playing in the background. The only things in between them are a notepad and pencil, from where they were playing tic-tac-toe.
Villa says, “I wish I was drunk,” and Fernando starts to laugh like he really is drunk, a soft bubble that erupts into something wild and unnecessary. Villa only stares at him. “I really, really wish I was drunk,” he mutters.
Fernando stops after a while. He turns his face so that he’s looking at Villa now. “It can’t be so bad,” he says. “You should talk to him, you know.”
Villa’s face is a mixture of his emotions: embarrassed and upset and angry that he’s even upset in the first place. “Can we not talk about it anymore?” Fernando shrugs and Villa peers at him. “You want to join in in this-” He gestures between them somewhat awkwardly. “Heart-to-heart, uh, thing.”
“Not really,” he mutters, and it’s all just ridiculous, that he’s even sitting here at all. Ridiculous.
Villa watches him for a while before he sighs a little. Rubs a palm to his face. “You love him, don’t you?”
Fernando’s head snaps up. “No, I don’t.”
Villa holds up a finger, like he’s thought of something quite momentous. “Hold on,” he says, and grabs the notepad and pencil. Starts scribbling on it like he’s figured out some difficult calculus equation. (Fernando wonders why on earth he’s even doing math at a time like this and-) Villa suddenly looks up and says, “I just made some calculations, and it turns out that you’re full of shit.”
vii.
They’re on the phone. Fernando is juggling a football in the backyard.
“So,” he says. “We’re thinking about names.”
Fernando can hear Sergio rummaging through his refrigerator. He smiles a little, because he knows that it is full of shit that Sergio hates and will never eat. He knows Sergio will end up with either a beer or an apple. Sergio replies, a little distractedly, “What about ‘Sergio’? That’s a nice name.”
He can almost hear Sergio’s smirk. Fernando snorts, “You’re such a dick. You never help me when I need you to.” Sergio laughs and Fernando hears him close the refrigerator. He asks, “What’d you end up picking?”
“What - oh,” another chuckle. “Nah, I just grabbed an apple. I got to stay healthy if I want to keep this body. I don’t want to turn into you.”
“What?! I’m not - you bastard. I’m all muscle.” He pats his stomach for good measure. Sergio laughs loudly at that. They fall into an easy silence after a bit, with Fernando now kicking the ball around and Sergio chewing on his apple. Finally, Fernando says a little idly, “What about ‘Fernando’?”
“Hmm?” Sergio asks at first, confused, before he gets it. “I like it,” he answers and Fernando can hear the sincerity in his voice.
viii.
“What’s it like, being in love?” Sergio asks one night when they’re laying in bed, dazed after sex and tired of maybe something much deeper than that.
Fernando glances at him curiously. “What?”
Sergio’s hands play at the comforter, idly picking at here and there. He’s making it painfully obvious that he’s trying his best to act indifferent. “I mean,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t had a steady girlfriend in a while, you know? And the ones I’ve had - I don’t know.”
“Uh, well,” Fernando starts, clearing his throat. “It feels like you’re having sex for more reasons than just sex.”
Sergio laughs, a soft look in his eyes like he gets it. He shakes his head. “Asshole.”
Fernando smirks, leans over and presses a kiss to Sergio’s shoulder. “You’ll know when you are, Sergio.”
He squeezes his eyes shut when he sees the look in Sergio’s eyes. You’d have to be blind not to see it, but Fernando thinks he’d rather be the blind man than have to acknowledge something that he’s unwilling to admit is true.
ix.
Fernando is out shopping one day when he sees it in an Adidas shop. It is one of those headbands Sergio always wears, the customized one with his name on it. He can’t believe they’re actually selling them in stores now, and calls out to Olalla to come see. She laughs and jokes about buying one.
He ends up buying one.
He thinks it’ll be funny if at the next La Roja call-up, he shows up with this on his head.
He never takes it out of the bag, keeps it hidden in his bedside table.
x.
After they play Manchester City, he goes out to drinks with Silva.
“How are you?” he asks earnestly.
Silva shrugs a little. “Good, good. Trying to learn English,” he laughs timidly.
Fernando knows he shouldn’t do this, but he does it anyway. “You should give Villa a call.”
“What?”
“Uh, well. It’s just,” he clears his throat. “It’s just that you guys were good friends, and all.”
Silva looks uncomfortable. “Yeah. I mean, we text.”
“I just think he misses you, is all. I was talking to him a while back, and…” He trails off, offers a shrug. Uncomfortable as well now.
“Alright,” Silva says. And then, “I talked to Sergio a while back, too.”
Fernando raises an eyebrow. “Okay,” is all he says.
“I just meant, you should probably give him a call, too.”
Fernando’s face hardens momentarily before he turns back to the drink in his hand. “I can’t give him what he wants. Whatever he told you. Or whatever,” he says softly. “I’m married.”
Silva raises an eyebrow. “So is Villa,” he says a little flatly.
And therein lies the problem.
Later, he texts Sergio: hope u didn’t forget 2eat an apple today. :)
He hopes it’s enough to get what he can never say aloud across: I’m thinking about you. And I miss you.
xi.
Fernando remembers the last time even better than the first. He’s pulling on his clothes and Sergio just lays there, a look on his face that says he’s contemplating something quite significant. “What is it?” Fernando asks as he turns to him.
Sergio shrugs at first, but then, “I just. I need to know.” He takes a painfully slow breath. “Do you love me?”
“What are you-” he stops. “Sergio,” is all he says.
Sergio opens his mouth to say something. Fernando never finds out what because he crushes his lips against his almost violently. He digs his hands into his hips, kisses him until they’re both breathless. Sergio lies back down and stares up at the ceiling. “Fernando.” And then, “I,” he stops and shakes his head, a sad smile fixed on his face. He knows why Fernando had kissed him when he kissed him. He knows. Finally, he says, “You won’t be here in the morning, will you?”
And they both know the answer to that, because Fernando never stays the night. Later, when Fernando is leaving and Sergio is asleep, he whispers unspoken words into Sergio’s hair. Hopes that it’s enough even though they both know it’s not.