The $64,000 Conundrum: Chapter 2
Title: The $64,000 Conundrum: Chapter 2
Authors:
fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger / Fernando Torres, Steven Gerrard / Xabi Alonso, David Beckham / Iker Casillas, Gerard Pique / Cesc Fabregas
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU / Romance
Word Count: 3,433 Words
Disclaimer: This is not real.
Summary: Do you know what love is? Why do humans fall in love? Do we all have 'soul mate' waiting for us? What does it take for one to love another? Does 'love at first sight' really exist?
David Beckham will court Victoria Adams with Iker Casillas' help. Gerard Piqué will conduct an experiment because he has this bullshit love theory about dogs. Fernando Torres loves piano and hates Daniel Agger. And Xabi Alonso has this penchant of solving every mystery in the world.
Their journeys through the teenage years will lead you to the discovery of the biggest conundrum in the universe, and back.
Previous chapter: 1
A/N: Part 2! Comments!
The $64,000 Conundrum
Chapter 2
'If an item moves very, very fast, it becomes smaller and...?'
The message was received early on a vivacious autumn morning. Xabi's walking to school, it's only 8 o'clock so he's in no hurry. The Basque thought for a couple of seconds before replying the message,
'Heavier.'
He’d waited a minute more before another message got in.
'Correct again. U r ingenious, Xabi Alonso.'
The Spaniard smiled to himself. He’s about to put his mobile away when it vibrated again. Xabi quirked his brow before opening up the new incoming text.
'Check out ur locker. ;)' was what it simply said.
What's with his locker? Curiosity nudged him to send an inquiry but he resisted. Of course he'd have to check it out himself, and he'd know the answer within the next five minutes.
He arrived.
The hallway was bustling with enthusiastic students. Xabi stopped at his locker, there’s a plastic bag hanging on the knob.
The Spaniard unhooked the bag and opened it with pure curiosity, inside there were a box of milk, a turkey sandwich, and a note. Xabi fished the paper out.
'Your breakfast. I know you don't have it at home but you should 'cos it'd make your brain function better the whole day. Take good care of your health, don't spend too much time solving puzzles until you forget to.
Take care.'
The writer didn't leave a name but Xabi didn't mind. How Mr. X knew that normally he didn't have breakfast was beyond his knowledge. He turned around to walk to class but then changed his mind.
He flipped the note, fished out his pen from his bag and wrote in it,
'Thank you very much for worrying about me. Why won't you treat me breakfasts every morning so you can be sure that I really have?
Thanks anyway,
Xabi'
The Basque returned that piece of paper to the plastic bag and hung it on the knob the exactly same way as he found it, except that other contents had already gone. Xabi left it there, he's certain that when he came back at lunch break, it would disappear.
The Spaniard sauntered away with a box of milk and a turkey sandwich in hand. Of course he didn't actually need someone to treat him food, may it be a turkey sandwich or a plate of the Zillion Dollar Frittatas every morning, he could take care of himself.
But a bag couldn't simply appear at his locker every morning by itself.
That's how Xabi going to unmask Mr. He-Knows-Who.
***
"I'll go."
David thought Victoria Adams' hoarse voice was really sexy and the meaning it conveyed echoed in his head, it's the only sound he could hear though the place was actually quite noisy. At that moment he forgot to breathe, and could feel that Iker who's standing not far behind him was holding his breath, too.
"I...," the English was lost for words, immediately forgot the script which Iker and he brainstormed and wrote together, it included every scenario they could think of that could ever happen after David had asked Victoria for a 'casual lunch' at a restaurant at noon tomorrow, since today was Friday. They had rehearsed it many times before. Then again, at a moment like this, David, and even Iker, wasn't certain any more either they simply forgot to put in this scenario where Victoria actually said yes, or it was that everything had suddenly been swept off David's brain, leaving only Victoria-who-said-I'll-go that mattered.
David still couldn't find his tongue and silence that crept in threateningly was suddenly interrupted by incoherent sounds of giggles from Victoria's friends. Victoria now looked like she’s trying to suppress a smile, too. David blushed, was even more paralyzed as he acknowledged that he was laughed at by five gorgeous high school girls - David who’s always cool, handsome, dandy and unbeatable.
"David!" Iker hissed behind him, the Spaniard's voice retrieved him back to the situation. Then he realized that he had to say something, anything. The Londoner opened up his mouth, then when he couldn't find a word, snapped it shut again, and that mien drew out chortles form the girls even more.
"Thank you," the boy choked out at last.
"Don't be," Victoria said, keeping her eyes on a glass of punch, stirring it restlessly with a straw. "So, see you tomorrow?"
David drew in a deep breath, still couldn't believe that this was actually happening. "Yes,” he whispered, "sure."
"Iker, I made it!"
Iker laughed good-humoredly as David strangled him to death with a deep tight hug. The British was in euphoria after his brain had been temporarily predominated by stupefaction. He squeezed Iker in a fervent embrace until the Spaniard was almost stifled.
"David, stop!" Iker tried to disentangle his friend's arms, David released him.
"You have no idea how on cloud nine I am now," he hissed as the Spaniard adjusted his crumpled shirt and untidy collar. The English boy laughed at Iker's unsettlement and ruffled the Spaniard's already-disheveled hair.
"Hey!" Iker jumped away since David wasn't helping, but the Londoner grabbed his wrist.
"Why do you care what you look like at this time? It's almost nine." David's still smiling like mad.
"We should go home," Iker cut off, was about to get off when the other boy pulled him back and chirped,
"My parents aren't home today. Would you like to come and stay over at my house?"
That’s a surprise. "How about Joanne and Lynne?" He asked about his friend's sisters.
"They're there, but so what?" The Londoner shrugged and smirked mischievously as something naughty came across his mind. "And we can try my dad's whiskey," he hissed excitedly.
"What?!" He knew David was so impatient to try these kinds of things that usually he wouldn't be allowed to. He knew very well where his dad had kept those bottles of alcohol hidden from his children's eyes. Normally David would have not dared, but his parents hadn't been away and left their kids at home alone all night quite often.
"Let's call your mom," David whispered animatedly.
***
Cesc was almost grilled by his mother once she realized what he'd brought home with yesterday. At first, they, he and the unfortunate Chihuahua who kept biting Cesc's shoes alternating with its tail having absolutely no idea that it might not have even a shed to stay over tonight, were not allowed to 'put a single one of your mutts' hair (Cesc’s included) through the door.' But then Cesc begged, and his sister begged, and when his father arrived, he begged, too, since the puppy was so cute that they couldn't resist its charm. So eventually his mom caved in, on condition that Cesc would be the one thoroughly responsible for it, he had to feed it twice a day, take a bath once a week, to a walk and to the doctor for vaccination. And she would banish it the instance it vandalizes any furniture in this residence, including her shoes.
Cesc reluctantly agreed.
Now he's sitting at a park, two leashes in hands. The puppies, his and Gerard's, were bullying one another fiercely. Cesc would pull a leash or the other another way once in a while so the puppies would be dragged away from each other. But then one of them would plunge forward again, hurtling into its buddy until they both tumbled on the floor and started their little war for the next round. Cesc looked at them good-humoredly.
"Git, I bought you a spare." Gerard walked back from a hot dog stand with two pieces of them in hands. Cesc wrinkled his nose.
"I'm not hungry."
Gerard simply sat down on the bench beside Cesc, literally throwing a hot dog into the smaller boy's lap. "Eat," he said while taking back his puppy's leash from Cesc.
Cesc looked at the fast food in his lap, the sauce had already smudged his jeans. He sighed, grabbed it and without another word, turned and shoved it in Gerard's mouth.
"Prick!" The taller Spaniard dodged but to no avail. He shouted through his mouth full of food, ketchup and mustard covered all the better parts of his lips and chin. Cesc laughed. Their puppies were chasing each other about, their leashes were now binding around Gerard's and Cesc's ankles in a jumble. Wiping all traces of slimy dressings off his face, Gerard glared at Cesc who realized a bit too late that he shouldn't be sitting around waiting for a counterattack which would sure to come. Sadly, he couldn't escape, his legs were now tangled with other three beings. The realization that dawned on him appeared horror-stricken on his face.
"Oh, Cesc." Gerard did sound a bit sympathetic when he not-too-gently shoved his half-eaten hot dog in Cesc's mouth.
Well, that's how they showed how well-beloved the other was usually.
"Have you named the puppy yet?" Gerard asked as they both wiped all traces of messy smear off their faces.
"I'm thinking about it." Cesc nibbled at his hot dog, well, what's left of it. "Maybe I'll call him 'Arsenal'."
Gerard raised his brow up high. "Hmm, that sounds so...mighty."
"He's the smaller of the two," Cesc pointed out, watching the Chihuahuas quarreling without being tired out. "He needs a strong name to be powerful. How about yours?"
Gerard shook his head. "I couldn't come up with any cool names yet," he murmured. "But if yours' name is about weapon, maybe I'll think of something along the line," he paused. "How about 'Bazooka'?"
"Hmm, that sounds cool," he agreed. "So, we've their names then." He eyed them fighting at their feet. "And who would surrender their hands to those baby fangs to split them up first?"
Leaning on his seat, Gerard slung his arm around Cesc's shoulder. "We can sit here for a while." They had finished their small meals by now. "They look fun down there, I don't want to interrupt them yet."
Cesc quirked his brow. "Gery," he drawled, "you're not wiping your hand on my shirt, are you?" He didn't even turn to look at Gerard's hand on his shoulder but glaring daggers at him instead. Gerard grinned smugly.
"Nope," he denied.
***
The room was noisy with students' chats since the teacher of their first class hadn't come in yet. Fernando's sitting with his friends, talking mildly while also trying to finish one of his homework. He glanced fleetingly at the other side of the room as he heard loud guffaw. Agger's there with his usual fellows - all thugs - and as the Spaniard glimpsed at him, their gazes accidentally met. Not only he who's currently looking at Fernando, but also all of his friends.
So his hunch was right, again, they're gossiping about him and of course laughing at him.
Fernando gritted his teeth. All his consolidation of effort towards his assignment was now vanished. Throwing his pen onto the table, he slumped against the backrest and folded his arms across his chest, grimacing in annoyance.
"What's up, Nando?" Sergio Ramos was surprised by his friend's sudden change of mood. Fernando looked away, in the direction of nothingness where there're no both Sergio and Agger.
"Nothing," he murmured.
Fernando really didn't wanna go home, he meant, that house, not his home. So after a football game on school pitch with his friends, the Spaniard went back to his own house, stayed there for the rest of the evening doing his homework then reading some history books. But when his stomach protested, he knew he had no choice but to go back to the Danes' since there's nothing to eat here and more importantly, he didn't know how to cook.
"Fernando, where have you been?! We've been so worried about you!" Mrs. Agger made a fuss over him the second he's home. Fernando simpered. They're about to start supper, he came exactly in time.
"I went back to my house, it's more familiar in there, sorry," he murmured.
"Oh, honey, don't be." Mrs. Agger looked like she wanted to step up and hug the little Spaniard. "You must miss your family so bad, musn't you? A little boy left alone in a bleak house where used to be warm and noisy. They'd come back soon, Fernando. Don't be gloom, honey."
With that, Daniel who'd been arranging cutleries at the dining table and dead-silent all of the time, snorted very loud.
And also with that, Mrs. Agger suddenly realized her son was there. "Daniel, why didn't you take Fernando home with you this evening?"
The Danish boy gaped at that out-of-the-blue question which was immediately aimed at him. He glared at his mother like to deplore quietly. But Mrs. Agger stared back, waiting patiently for his reply.
"Why should I do that, mom?" Daniel snarled. "I had something else to do, as well as Torres. You put him into my room doesn't mean that we have to be together all the time. And please, I meet him all day in class and also have to spend the whole night with him. Can't I have a break or something?!"
Daniel really got a point, and Fernando was glad that he didn't have to make up an alibi to defend himself further. But Mrs. Agger didn't seem to concede easily.
"You'll have to do that tomorrow," she declared.
Daniel's jaw dropped, as well as Fernando's.
"What?" The Danish boy hissed after comprehending what his mother had just said.
"You heard me." Then she resumed arranging the dishes on the table. Dinner was ready. "Fernando is sad, he needs someone to be his company, at least for a week." She sat down. Marco and Stephanie, Daniel's younger brother and sister, washed their hands and came out of the kitchen. His dad also appeared at the doorstep. "Tomorrow you have to come home with Fernando," she simply stated.
"But mom!" Daniel was fumed. "Won't you gonna ask Torres' consent to that?! Don't you think he might have some other plans?" Since he knew it's no point of him making his point, he relayed it to Fernando, hoping the Spanish boy could help him - them - out of this.
Fernando took his cue. "Actually, Mrs. Agger, Ag...Daniel doesn't have to do that at all. We both have different activities to do after school, and I don't want to disturb him further than stealing his privacy in his bedroom. And I'm not sad, really. It's just that I feel more comfortable in my own home, of course, since it's just my second day over here, but I'm sure I'll get better soon."
"No, no, no, Fernando, don't think like that. You're not disturbing him or any of us at all, honey," Mrs. Agger made certain, didn't even glance at Daniel to ask for his opinion which was apparently evident on his freckly face in absolute disagreement. "And that's why my son will have to be your company, so you can get familiar with him, with us, as soon as possible, as I notice that you still called each other by last names."
Daniel gritted his teeth and Fernando pursed his lips. That's absolutely not his fault, he almost called the boy 'Agger' but changed his mind in time to show others that they're not that aloof towards one another. Agger..., okay, Daniel, was the one who called him by his last name out loud, twice.
"You understand what I've said, right Daniel?" Mrs. Agger asked, and Daniel murmured though not consentient. Looking up, he glared daggers at Fernando, as if to reprimand the Spaniard who failed to convince his mother to not order them to do what they both knew were dying not to do. Grimacing, Fernando ended the conversation by dining his supper embitteredly. He didn't have any appetite at all.
Lingering downstairs, Fernando helped Mrs. Agger washing the dishes, cleaning the kitchen and also arranging food in the fridge until he had absolutely nothing else to do. He didn't wanna go up and be alone with Daniel in that confined room, yet it seemed that his excuses had already run out. And from the loud noise of music drifting from upstairs, he knew that Daniel had started his private rock concert in his bedroom once again.
Fernando shambled up the stairs very slowly since he didn't wanna reach where they led. The noise was even vociferous up here and was kinda deafening when he reluctantly arrived at the door to Daniel's secluded territory. The Spaniard held his breath and gingerly knocked on the door, twice.
The rambunctious detonation was still there, and though Fernando was certain Daniel could never hear his knocks from what sounded like a mini World War III happening inside, he swore that the blast was even louder, if that's even possible.
The Spaniard cautiously laid his hand on the doorknob and twisted it. To his surprise, it wasn't locked. So he inhaled deeply in preparation before opening the door and getting in.
Daniel was standing in the middle of the room, his back to the door. He was indulging in obstreperous heavy metal and though the Spaniard was quite certain he knew Fernando had got in, didn't show any sign of interest.
Fernando walked straight to his bed - their bed - and sat down on it. Daniel granted him the lower bed of his bunk, on which normally used to be put his random messy stuff like unclean garments, unfinished homework and stale snacks. Fernando didn't make any comment about that. He took off his sneakers carelessly and dug under a pile of new duvet. It smelled nice, like the fragrance of fresh green apple, since it was just out of laundry two days ago. The Spaniard pulled it up to his chin, concealing all his body except his freckly face, snuggling up against it while watching the Dane busying himself with an electric guitar.
The music was still clamorous but Fernando started to get accustomed to it, he had to if he wanted to survive the whole impending month. Though he started to feel like having a ringing in his ears, he told himself his ears would get used to it soon, too.
Daniel still turned his back to him yet Fernando could detect his movements clearly. From behind, the Spaniard could imagine Daniel's hand holding the guitar's neck with a forceful grip, his pick fiercely brushing taut strings, his emotional face distorting along perfervid waves of acute rock music. He looked professional, like a real virtuoso. That ferocious electric guitar suited his untamed character so well, it enhanced his personality to appear fiercely arrogant, wildly suave, and undeniably magnetic.
"What the hell are you staring at?!"
The Spaniard startled, was suddenly retrieved back from his absentmindedness. In front of him, Daniel had already spun around. He knew Fernando had been sneaking glances at him since he got in and now was quite vexed.
Fernando didn't see why he would need a lie so his answer was an honest reply. "You, playing the guitar." He smirked. "You seem to be very good at it, though."
Daniel sneered, "of course I am." He strummed the strings making random notes. "And don't be mistaken, I'm not gay like you."
Fernando was taken aback. "What?" There’s an edge in his voice though he wasn't even sure what the hell the Dane meant by that statement.
"I know you play piano, Torres." He grazed the pick up and down row of strings harder so they created louder noises. "Only gay people do that."
Fernando sprang up in bed, angry now. "How the hell does playing piano makes someone gay?!" he snarled. "That's so bullshit! Of course I'm not gay!"
The Dane smirked. "With that limp mien, lithe figure, blond hair and pretty baby face, of course you're gay," Daniel concluded. "And I'm not friend with shirt lifters." Then he turned back, resumed his strepitous heavy metal concert which definitely cut their conversation. Fernando gaped at him, lost for words. He gritted his teeth, really wanted to storm out of the room but couldn't think of any alibi to give to Mrs. Agger in this state of head-blankness. So he threw himself onto the bed, fuming like a fireball.
Fine, Agger! Whatever you say! Though there's no trace of truth in it, if you don't wanna be friend, then we won't be friends! Do whatever you like and I would also do the same. Fuck off!
But wait, did Agger just say that he’s 'pretty', by the way?
To be continued in Chapter 3.
Anecdote:
The $64,000 question is the big question or the main question. The phrase comes from a television quiz program of the same name where the prize for each correct answer increased from 100 to 200 etc. right up to 64,000 dollars. That last question was the hardest and obviously the most important.
.
Authors:
fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger / Fernando Torres, Steven Gerrard / Xabi Alonso, David Beckham / Iker Casillas, Gerard Pique / Cesc Fabregas
Rating: PG-13
Genre: AU / Romance
Word Count: 3,433 Words
Disclaimer: This is not real.
Summary: Do you know what love is? Why do humans fall in love? Do we all have 'soul mate' waiting for us? What does it take for one to love another? Does 'love at first sight' really exist?
David Beckham will court Victoria Adams with Iker Casillas' help. Gerard Piqué will conduct an experiment because he has this bullshit love theory about dogs. Fernando Torres loves piano and hates Daniel Agger. And Xabi Alonso has this penchant of solving every mystery in the world.
Their journeys through the teenage years will lead you to the discovery of the biggest conundrum in the universe, and back.
Previous chapter: 1
A/N: Part 2! Comments!
The $64,000 Conundrum
Chapter 2
'If an item moves very, very fast, it becomes smaller and...?'
The message was received early on a vivacious autumn morning. Xabi's walking to school, it's only 8 o'clock so he's in no hurry. The Basque thought for a couple of seconds before replying the message,
'Heavier.'
He’d waited a minute more before another message got in.
'Correct again. U r ingenious, Xabi Alonso.'
The Spaniard smiled to himself. He’s about to put his mobile away when it vibrated again. Xabi quirked his brow before opening up the new incoming text.
'Check out ur locker. ;)' was what it simply said.
What's with his locker? Curiosity nudged him to send an inquiry but he resisted. Of course he'd have to check it out himself, and he'd know the answer within the next five minutes.
He arrived.
The hallway was bustling with enthusiastic students. Xabi stopped at his locker, there’s a plastic bag hanging on the knob.
The Spaniard unhooked the bag and opened it with pure curiosity, inside there were a box of milk, a turkey sandwich, and a note. Xabi fished the paper out.
'Your breakfast. I know you don't have it at home but you should 'cos it'd make your brain function better the whole day. Take good care of your health, don't spend too much time solving puzzles until you forget to.
Take care.'
The writer didn't leave a name but Xabi didn't mind. How Mr. X knew that normally he didn't have breakfast was beyond his knowledge. He turned around to walk to class but then changed his mind.
He flipped the note, fished out his pen from his bag and wrote in it,
'Thank you very much for worrying about me. Why won't you treat me breakfasts every morning so you can be sure that I really have?
Thanks anyway,
Xabi'
The Basque returned that piece of paper to the plastic bag and hung it on the knob the exactly same way as he found it, except that other contents had already gone. Xabi left it there, he's certain that when he came back at lunch break, it would disappear.
The Spaniard sauntered away with a box of milk and a turkey sandwich in hand. Of course he didn't actually need someone to treat him food, may it be a turkey sandwich or a plate of the Zillion Dollar Frittatas every morning, he could take care of himself.
But a bag couldn't simply appear at his locker every morning by itself.
That's how Xabi going to unmask Mr. He-Knows-Who.
***
"I'll go."
David thought Victoria Adams' hoarse voice was really sexy and the meaning it conveyed echoed in his head, it's the only sound he could hear though the place was actually quite noisy. At that moment he forgot to breathe, and could feel that Iker who's standing not far behind him was holding his breath, too.
"I...," the English was lost for words, immediately forgot the script which Iker and he brainstormed and wrote together, it included every scenario they could think of that could ever happen after David had asked Victoria for a 'casual lunch' at a restaurant at noon tomorrow, since today was Friday. They had rehearsed it many times before. Then again, at a moment like this, David, and even Iker, wasn't certain any more either they simply forgot to put in this scenario where Victoria actually said yes, or it was that everything had suddenly been swept off David's brain, leaving only Victoria-who-said-I'll-go that mattered.
David still couldn't find his tongue and silence that crept in threateningly was suddenly interrupted by incoherent sounds of giggles from Victoria's friends. Victoria now looked like she’s trying to suppress a smile, too. David blushed, was even more paralyzed as he acknowledged that he was laughed at by five gorgeous high school girls - David who’s always cool, handsome, dandy and unbeatable.
"David!" Iker hissed behind him, the Spaniard's voice retrieved him back to the situation. Then he realized that he had to say something, anything. The Londoner opened up his mouth, then when he couldn't find a word, snapped it shut again, and that mien drew out chortles form the girls even more.
"Thank you," the boy choked out at last.
"Don't be," Victoria said, keeping her eyes on a glass of punch, stirring it restlessly with a straw. "So, see you tomorrow?"
David drew in a deep breath, still couldn't believe that this was actually happening. "Yes,” he whispered, "sure."
"Iker, I made it!"
Iker laughed good-humoredly as David strangled him to death with a deep tight hug. The British was in euphoria after his brain had been temporarily predominated by stupefaction. He squeezed Iker in a fervent embrace until the Spaniard was almost stifled.
"David, stop!" Iker tried to disentangle his friend's arms, David released him.
"You have no idea how on cloud nine I am now," he hissed as the Spaniard adjusted his crumpled shirt and untidy collar. The English boy laughed at Iker's unsettlement and ruffled the Spaniard's already-disheveled hair.
"Hey!" Iker jumped away since David wasn't helping, but the Londoner grabbed his wrist.
"Why do you care what you look like at this time? It's almost nine." David's still smiling like mad.
"We should go home," Iker cut off, was about to get off when the other boy pulled him back and chirped,
"My parents aren't home today. Would you like to come and stay over at my house?"
That’s a surprise. "How about Joanne and Lynne?" He asked about his friend's sisters.
"They're there, but so what?" The Londoner shrugged and smirked mischievously as something naughty came across his mind. "And we can try my dad's whiskey," he hissed excitedly.
"What?!" He knew David was so impatient to try these kinds of things that usually he wouldn't be allowed to. He knew very well where his dad had kept those bottles of alcohol hidden from his children's eyes. Normally David would have not dared, but his parents hadn't been away and left their kids at home alone all night quite often.
"Let's call your mom," David whispered animatedly.
***
Cesc was almost grilled by his mother once she realized what he'd brought home with yesterday. At first, they, he and the unfortunate Chihuahua who kept biting Cesc's shoes alternating with its tail having absolutely no idea that it might not have even a shed to stay over tonight, were not allowed to 'put a single one of your mutts' hair (Cesc’s included) through the door.' But then Cesc begged, and his sister begged, and when his father arrived, he begged, too, since the puppy was so cute that they couldn't resist its charm. So eventually his mom caved in, on condition that Cesc would be the one thoroughly responsible for it, he had to feed it twice a day, take a bath once a week, to a walk and to the doctor for vaccination. And she would banish it the instance it vandalizes any furniture in this residence, including her shoes.
Cesc reluctantly agreed.
Now he's sitting at a park, two leashes in hands. The puppies, his and Gerard's, were bullying one another fiercely. Cesc would pull a leash or the other another way once in a while so the puppies would be dragged away from each other. But then one of them would plunge forward again, hurtling into its buddy until they both tumbled on the floor and started their little war for the next round. Cesc looked at them good-humoredly.
"Git, I bought you a spare." Gerard walked back from a hot dog stand with two pieces of them in hands. Cesc wrinkled his nose.
"I'm not hungry."
Gerard simply sat down on the bench beside Cesc, literally throwing a hot dog into the smaller boy's lap. "Eat," he said while taking back his puppy's leash from Cesc.
Cesc looked at the fast food in his lap, the sauce had already smudged his jeans. He sighed, grabbed it and without another word, turned and shoved it in Gerard's mouth.
"Prick!" The taller Spaniard dodged but to no avail. He shouted through his mouth full of food, ketchup and mustard covered all the better parts of his lips and chin. Cesc laughed. Their puppies were chasing each other about, their leashes were now binding around Gerard's and Cesc's ankles in a jumble. Wiping all traces of slimy dressings off his face, Gerard glared at Cesc who realized a bit too late that he shouldn't be sitting around waiting for a counterattack which would sure to come. Sadly, he couldn't escape, his legs were now tangled with other three beings. The realization that dawned on him appeared horror-stricken on his face.
"Oh, Cesc." Gerard did sound a bit sympathetic when he not-too-gently shoved his half-eaten hot dog in Cesc's mouth.
Well, that's how they showed how well-beloved the other was usually.
"Have you named the puppy yet?" Gerard asked as they both wiped all traces of messy smear off their faces.
"I'm thinking about it." Cesc nibbled at his hot dog, well, what's left of it. "Maybe I'll call him 'Arsenal'."
Gerard raised his brow up high. "Hmm, that sounds so...mighty."
"He's the smaller of the two," Cesc pointed out, watching the Chihuahuas quarreling without being tired out. "He needs a strong name to be powerful. How about yours?"
Gerard shook his head. "I couldn't come up with any cool names yet," he murmured. "But if yours' name is about weapon, maybe I'll think of something along the line," he paused. "How about 'Bazooka'?"
"Hmm, that sounds cool," he agreed. "So, we've their names then." He eyed them fighting at their feet. "And who would surrender their hands to those baby fangs to split them up first?"
Leaning on his seat, Gerard slung his arm around Cesc's shoulder. "We can sit here for a while." They had finished their small meals by now. "They look fun down there, I don't want to interrupt them yet."
Cesc quirked his brow. "Gery," he drawled, "you're not wiping your hand on my shirt, are you?" He didn't even turn to look at Gerard's hand on his shoulder but glaring daggers at him instead. Gerard grinned smugly.
"Nope," he denied.
***
The room was noisy with students' chats since the teacher of their first class hadn't come in yet. Fernando's sitting with his friends, talking mildly while also trying to finish one of his homework. He glanced fleetingly at the other side of the room as he heard loud guffaw. Agger's there with his usual fellows - all thugs - and as the Spaniard glimpsed at him, their gazes accidentally met. Not only he who's currently looking at Fernando, but also all of his friends.
So his hunch was right, again, they're gossiping about him and of course laughing at him.
Fernando gritted his teeth. All his consolidation of effort towards his assignment was now vanished. Throwing his pen onto the table, he slumped against the backrest and folded his arms across his chest, grimacing in annoyance.
"What's up, Nando?" Sergio Ramos was surprised by his friend's sudden change of mood. Fernando looked away, in the direction of nothingness where there're no both Sergio and Agger.
"Nothing," he murmured.
Fernando really didn't wanna go home, he meant, that house, not his home. So after a football game on school pitch with his friends, the Spaniard went back to his own house, stayed there for the rest of the evening doing his homework then reading some history books. But when his stomach protested, he knew he had no choice but to go back to the Danes' since there's nothing to eat here and more importantly, he didn't know how to cook.
"Fernando, where have you been?! We've been so worried about you!" Mrs. Agger made a fuss over him the second he's home. Fernando simpered. They're about to start supper, he came exactly in time.
"I went back to my house, it's more familiar in there, sorry," he murmured.
"Oh, honey, don't be." Mrs. Agger looked like she wanted to step up and hug the little Spaniard. "You must miss your family so bad, musn't you? A little boy left alone in a bleak house where used to be warm and noisy. They'd come back soon, Fernando. Don't be gloom, honey."
With that, Daniel who'd been arranging cutleries at the dining table and dead-silent all of the time, snorted very loud.
And also with that, Mrs. Agger suddenly realized her son was there. "Daniel, why didn't you take Fernando home with you this evening?"
The Danish boy gaped at that out-of-the-blue question which was immediately aimed at him. He glared at his mother like to deplore quietly. But Mrs. Agger stared back, waiting patiently for his reply.
"Why should I do that, mom?" Daniel snarled. "I had something else to do, as well as Torres. You put him into my room doesn't mean that we have to be together all the time. And please, I meet him all day in class and also have to spend the whole night with him. Can't I have a break or something?!"
Daniel really got a point, and Fernando was glad that he didn't have to make up an alibi to defend himself further. But Mrs. Agger didn't seem to concede easily.
"You'll have to do that tomorrow," she declared.
Daniel's jaw dropped, as well as Fernando's.
"What?" The Danish boy hissed after comprehending what his mother had just said.
"You heard me." Then she resumed arranging the dishes on the table. Dinner was ready. "Fernando is sad, he needs someone to be his company, at least for a week." She sat down. Marco and Stephanie, Daniel's younger brother and sister, washed their hands and came out of the kitchen. His dad also appeared at the doorstep. "Tomorrow you have to come home with Fernando," she simply stated.
"But mom!" Daniel was fumed. "Won't you gonna ask Torres' consent to that?! Don't you think he might have some other plans?" Since he knew it's no point of him making his point, he relayed it to Fernando, hoping the Spanish boy could help him - them - out of this.
Fernando took his cue. "Actually, Mrs. Agger, Ag...Daniel doesn't have to do that at all. We both have different activities to do after school, and I don't want to disturb him further than stealing his privacy in his bedroom. And I'm not sad, really. It's just that I feel more comfortable in my own home, of course, since it's just my second day over here, but I'm sure I'll get better soon."
"No, no, no, Fernando, don't think like that. You're not disturbing him or any of us at all, honey," Mrs. Agger made certain, didn't even glance at Daniel to ask for his opinion which was apparently evident on his freckly face in absolute disagreement. "And that's why my son will have to be your company, so you can get familiar with him, with us, as soon as possible, as I notice that you still called each other by last names."
Daniel gritted his teeth and Fernando pursed his lips. That's absolutely not his fault, he almost called the boy 'Agger' but changed his mind in time to show others that they're not that aloof towards one another. Agger..., okay, Daniel, was the one who called him by his last name out loud, twice.
"You understand what I've said, right Daniel?" Mrs. Agger asked, and Daniel murmured though not consentient. Looking up, he glared daggers at Fernando, as if to reprimand the Spaniard who failed to convince his mother to not order them to do what they both knew were dying not to do. Grimacing, Fernando ended the conversation by dining his supper embitteredly. He didn't have any appetite at all.
Lingering downstairs, Fernando helped Mrs. Agger washing the dishes, cleaning the kitchen and also arranging food in the fridge until he had absolutely nothing else to do. He didn't wanna go up and be alone with Daniel in that confined room, yet it seemed that his excuses had already run out. And from the loud noise of music drifting from upstairs, he knew that Daniel had started his private rock concert in his bedroom once again.
Fernando shambled up the stairs very slowly since he didn't wanna reach where they led. The noise was even vociferous up here and was kinda deafening when he reluctantly arrived at the door to Daniel's secluded territory. The Spaniard held his breath and gingerly knocked on the door, twice.
The rambunctious detonation was still there, and though Fernando was certain Daniel could never hear his knocks from what sounded like a mini World War III happening inside, he swore that the blast was even louder, if that's even possible.
The Spaniard cautiously laid his hand on the doorknob and twisted it. To his surprise, it wasn't locked. So he inhaled deeply in preparation before opening the door and getting in.
Daniel was standing in the middle of the room, his back to the door. He was indulging in obstreperous heavy metal and though the Spaniard was quite certain he knew Fernando had got in, didn't show any sign of interest.
Fernando walked straight to his bed - their bed - and sat down on it. Daniel granted him the lower bed of his bunk, on which normally used to be put his random messy stuff like unclean garments, unfinished homework and stale snacks. Fernando didn't make any comment about that. He took off his sneakers carelessly and dug under a pile of new duvet. It smelled nice, like the fragrance of fresh green apple, since it was just out of laundry two days ago. The Spaniard pulled it up to his chin, concealing all his body except his freckly face, snuggling up against it while watching the Dane busying himself with an electric guitar.
The music was still clamorous but Fernando started to get accustomed to it, he had to if he wanted to survive the whole impending month. Though he started to feel like having a ringing in his ears, he told himself his ears would get used to it soon, too.
Daniel still turned his back to him yet Fernando could detect his movements clearly. From behind, the Spaniard could imagine Daniel's hand holding the guitar's neck with a forceful grip, his pick fiercely brushing taut strings, his emotional face distorting along perfervid waves of acute rock music. He looked professional, like a real virtuoso. That ferocious electric guitar suited his untamed character so well, it enhanced his personality to appear fiercely arrogant, wildly suave, and undeniably magnetic.
"What the hell are you staring at?!"
The Spaniard startled, was suddenly retrieved back from his absentmindedness. In front of him, Daniel had already spun around. He knew Fernando had been sneaking glances at him since he got in and now was quite vexed.
Fernando didn't see why he would need a lie so his answer was an honest reply. "You, playing the guitar." He smirked. "You seem to be very good at it, though."
Daniel sneered, "of course I am." He strummed the strings making random notes. "And don't be mistaken, I'm not gay like you."
Fernando was taken aback. "What?" There’s an edge in his voice though he wasn't even sure what the hell the Dane meant by that statement.
"I know you play piano, Torres." He grazed the pick up and down row of strings harder so they created louder noises. "Only gay people do that."
Fernando sprang up in bed, angry now. "How the hell does playing piano makes someone gay?!" he snarled. "That's so bullshit! Of course I'm not gay!"
The Dane smirked. "With that limp mien, lithe figure, blond hair and pretty baby face, of course you're gay," Daniel concluded. "And I'm not friend with shirt lifters." Then he turned back, resumed his strepitous heavy metal concert which definitely cut their conversation. Fernando gaped at him, lost for words. He gritted his teeth, really wanted to storm out of the room but couldn't think of any alibi to give to Mrs. Agger in this state of head-blankness. So he threw himself onto the bed, fuming like a fireball.
Fine, Agger! Whatever you say! Though there's no trace of truth in it, if you don't wanna be friend, then we won't be friends! Do whatever you like and I would also do the same. Fuck off!
But wait, did Agger just say that he’s 'pretty', by the way?
To be continued in Chapter 3.
Anecdote:
The $64,000 question is the big question or the main question. The phrase comes from a television quiz program of the same name where the prize for each correct answer increased from 100 to 200 etc. right up to 64,000 dollars. That last question was the hardest and obviously the most important.
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