The $64,000 Conundrum: Chapter 3
Title: The $64,000 Conundrum: Chapter 3
Authors:
fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger / Fernando Torres, Steven Gerrard / Xabi Alonso, David Beckham / Iker Casillas, Gerard Pique / Cesc Fabregas
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU / Romance
Word Count: 4,234 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 chapters: 1, 2
The $64,000 Conundrum
Chapter 3
Xabi's plan was a bit miscalculated.
He arrived at school every morning to find that there was a bag of breakfast hooking on his locker handle. Someday there were sandwiches, someday croissants, or sometimes other kinds of pastries. No matter how early he came, he had never found the bearer. And every afternoon when he returned to his locker, the bag, if he left it there with a thank you note, would be gone mysteriously without Xabi’s notice.
How could he do that? Is Mr. X a magician or something?
'What is our universe dominated by?'
An incoming message sent Xabi quirk his brow, he smiled while typing a text back,
'Love.'
He hit send, snickered then typed another,
'I'm kidding, the answer is dark energy.'
He put his cell on the table and listened to Mr. Murinho who's relentlessly teaching Napolean War in front of the class. The next minute his phone vibrated again, Xabi fetched it ignorantly.
'Would u like 2 meet?'
That came unaware. Xabi's eyes widened, his thumb transfixed on the pad as he stared at the message disbelievingly.
It had been a month that this game began, a month since the first day the mystic messages appeared on his mobile screen. At first he was nonplussed then curious to know who the sender was, he often found himself slowly glancing around the surrounding crowd looking for clues of who could be the one. From that, he frequently caught a pair of brown eyes sneakily gazing back at him from afar.
Their owner was Mikel Arteta.
Of course, Xabi wasn't sure whether he's the real Mr. Anonymous who kept sending him texts and also bags of breakfast every morning, yet he's the only person in this school who Xabi was quite certain had explicit interest in him. Xabi had never had girlfriends or boyfriends, but he knew when there's someone keeping an eye on him most of the time, he's not stupid.
If there would be someone up his butt, the only one he could think of was Arteta.
Xabi typed back without mulling too long.
'When and where?'
He waited two-minute long, and during that Mr. Murinho's voice went in one ear and out the other without leaving any trace in his brain. Then his phone vibrated again - it had been in his hand all the time. Xabi opened the message.
'After school. Behind the gym?'
Xabi pursed his lips. Of course, he didn't need to consider long. The Basque replied as his heart drummed in his chest.
'Sure, 4pm, c u there.'
***
Fernando REALLY didn't wanna go home.
Okay, he knew everybody might be annoyed by this reiteration, he was even bored with the notion himself. But Fernando really didn't want to go back to the place where should be cordial and comfortable, should provide him resort. Instead of reposal, reality was that he would go back to find Daniel Agger in the same room and that made him really couldn't live in peace.
So after having finished classes, Fernando decided he would spend more time at school. He refused Sergio's and Jesus' invitation for a football game and chose somewhere else that's more pacific instead. He went to the school's classical music room - the place he loved to go when in need of somewhere to hide.
Fernando opened the door, to find that the room was large yet empty which was what he wanted. There were many kinds of musical instruments, one corner held violins and cello, another had saxophone and trumpets, there're also classical guitars and harp in one crook, while the other had accordion, clavinet and piano.
The Spaniard sauntered to the keyboard instrument section.
He reached the piano, it stood there in a niche of the room tranquilly yet majestically. Fernando’s fingers had brushed its polished surface down to the keyboard before he sat down on a stool in front. All of his ten fingers had grazed the white and black keys, testing their tunes before started playing a piece.
'Clair de Lune,' the third movement of 'Suite bergamasque' by Debussy - one of his favorites. All his preferred pieces had a common quality: they calmed him down somehow.
Music filled the vague space. The soft, smooth and harmonious rhythm sounded so placid that its hypnotizing melody could actually take his mind away from life's difficulty. The blonde’s lean fingers caressed the ivories airily like kisses of butterfly’s feather. Evening sunlight broke through the window, pouring coral ray on the carpeted floor and the piano's black beech wood, too bad it's not moonlight. So the Spaniard closed his eyes, let his mind flow with the movement and imagine the beauty of the moon in his head. It took almost three minutes until he stroked the last notes and ended the melody grandiosely.
Only two seconds of silence, two seconds that the room was absent of sound, then applause broke the serenity. Fernando startled. "Whew," a whistle came from the direction of the door. The Spaniard snapped his head around,
To find Daniel Agger standing in the doorway, clapping inertly. The blonde was petrified as the Dane shambled in tardily.
"What are you doing here?" Fernando snarled, though his heart raced in a bizarre pace. Well, wasn't that boy the bane of his existence? Wasn't he the reason he's here in the first place? Agger reached the piano, his otherwise callous fingers grazed the burnished black beech.
"You have to go back home with me," he simply stated, didn't look Fernando in the eyes.
"What?" The Spaniard stared at the other boy, couldn't believe his own ears.
"Don't you ever think that I'm willing to do this," the Dane snorted. "I just do what my mom told me to do. If I don't do it today, I'll have to do it tomorrow. So let's just get it over with." He eyed the Spaniard. Fernando didn't know what to reply, he shifted restlessly in his seat.
"How did you know I'm here?" He asked, and Agger snorted again.
"How's that difficult to guess?" He asked. "We've just finished class so you couldn't be far. When I noticed you weren't in class anymore, I decided to check here first." The Dane smirked. "And yeah, I'm a genius. I knew that it's you the moment I heard the piano, didn't even have to open the door to confirm it." With that, it's Fernando's turn to snort.
"How the hell could you tell that it's me only from hearing the piano?"
Agger eluded the question. "Play more," he said.
"What?" Fernando gawked at him the umpteenth time.
"I said 'play more.' What's so difficult with that?" He snapped but looking a bit anxious. The Spaniard slowly smiled knowingly. Arguing no more, he turned back to the piano and stroked the keyboard.
He would try something different this time, something more modern maybe? He thought for a moment then solo played his other favourite song, 'Hello' by Lionel Richie.
The Dane hushed, and like the world around them was suddenly enchanted. As Torres’ fingers flew over the tide of rhythm, contriving spellbinding melody, Daniel was completely captivated by the sad music. With the Spaniard's feathery touches on the ivories, he envisioned an angel sitting here with his wings stroking the keyboard so the notes drifting out of it could be this celestial.
Daniel didn't even notice when the song finally ended, like the spell was still lingering in the air and thoroughly engulfed his soul with its magic, not until Torres cleared his throat.
"Isn't that impressive?" The Spaniard asked, impish smile on his lips. Daniel knew his reaction had given Torres confidence, which he didn't like it at all.
"Let's go home," he hissed through gritted teeth, spun around and stalked out of the room grumpily.
Fernando giggled before getting up and following the Dane back home.
***
Xabi's heart was drumming in his chest in an uneven rhythm. It's five minutes to four, five minutes more until the time of their appointment. He's so nervous sitting in class, unmeaningful words went through his ears, Mr. Pellegrini's voice had no meaning to him now. The only thing Xabi wished to hear right then was the bell ringing..., okay, the other thing might be the vibrating sound of his phone.
It seemed like forever but finally the bell rang. The final class of today had ended and students all rose from their seats, gathering belongings then getting out of the room. Xabi did the same. Stalking cautiously, he intermittently looked from left to right searching for anyone who seemed to be looking in his direction, but found none. The Basque walked out of the building, still no one followed. So he paced along the pitch, his destination was the gymnasium on the far side of it.
Many students were on the pitch ready for an after-school game. Xabi didn't take much notice of those boys, he strode towards the back of the gym.
"Alonso."
Xabi stopped short just before turning around the gym corner as his name was called out from behind. That voice was unfamiliar and Xabi didn't even know why his heart was beating this fast as he turned around to face the speaker.
The boy stood anxiously in front of him wasn't beyond his expectation. It's Mikel Arteta.
"Err, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I just arrived at the pitch and saw you. I've never noticed that you normally play football?"
Xabi quirked his brow, really didn't understand what Arteta was talking about. Arteta shifted on his spot to the other Spaniard's questioningly piercing brown eyes. "I'm sorry to be rude, you might not even know me. I'm Mikel, studying in the same year as you, 12th grade, room 2," he paused, looked a bit agitated. "I just wanna ask whether you’d like to play football with us?"
Xabi didn't understand a thing. What was happening? Arteta acted like he just encountered with Xabi perchance, then simply asked him to play football with his friends? Well, that's a bit unforeseen, he didn't expect this when he first read the message 'would u like 2 meet?' He didn't assume that's the reason Arteta asked them to meet at the gym. At one moment a thought crossed Xabi's mind that maybe Arteta might have nothing to do with this at all, maybe Mr. Anonymous was totally someone else. But then Xabi dismissed the idea, how could it be someone else? It's Arteta and Arteta all along, he knew and was quite confident of this knowledge for quite some time now. If it's not Arteta who was Mr. X, then no one was, he couldn't think of anyone further in this school...
"Well, I didn't mean to intervene or anything. If you have something else to do, don't heed me. I was just wondering whether you'd like an idea of playing football together. If you don't, then I would bother you no more," Arteta stammered, he's quite restless now seeing that the other boy had been silent for too long. Then Xabi decided.
"Can you wait for me for a minute?" He blurted out.
"Pardon?" Arteta didn't understand but Xabi didn't wait for his answer. He turned towards to back of the gym, just wanted to make sure that he didn't miss anything. Xabi held his breath as he turned around the corner.
The lawn there was vacant, there's no one.
Xabi didn't realize when he slowly exhaled, in relief, he guessed. Arteta followed him a minute later as Xabi still stood there unmoved.
"Is there something wrong, Alonso?" He asked unsurely. When Xabi turned around at last, a soft smile had already glossed his lips.
"Nothing," he said. "Let's go to the pitch so you can introduce me to your friends, shall we?"
***
"Cesc, over here!"
Gerard's voice came from the right side of the pitch. Cesc glimpsed over there then sent the ball with his right foot, aiming at Gerard. It landed precisely in front of his taller friend and Gerard snatched the ball, used his giantess advantage to thwart other players. He ran along the wing side - though his position was actually centre-back - then kicked the ball to a striker waiting in cue on the front line.
Lionel Messi caught it, with his tiny figure he ran swiftly past the other team's centre-back leaving Sergio Ramos not a chance. Lionel was alone with the goalkeeper now, he swerved to the right and kicked.
The ball was sent to the back of the net aesthetically.
His team shouted out roar of cheers. They all ran up to Lionel, squeezed him in strangling embraces. Lionel laughed good-humoredly. Gerard was one of the lasts who approached him. The Argentinean turned to the taller boy, smiled widely while hugging him.
"You assisted me again, Gery," Lionel murmured against Gerard's firm chest. "Thanks."
"No prob, babe," Gerard replied, he always called Lionel pet names since the other was so tiny, he fitted perfectly in the taller boy's arms until Gerard couldn't resist treating him like a little girl.
They parted and resumed their positions for a new kickoff. When the game finally ended, Gerard walked to Cesc and slung his arm around the other boy's neck loosely. "What do you think about Lionel?" He asked. Cesc raised his brow.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I think I like him," Gerard whispered. And Cesc's eyes widened.
"What?"
"I don't know, dude..." His eyes couldn't be taken off Lionel who's walking out of the pitch with Bojan Krkić. "I always adore small people, they're cute. Bojan is endearing, too, but I think I prefer Lionel," he babbled, then sighed. "But he's a boy."
Of course, Gerard would never notice how Cesc's countenance distorted though very slightly. It prickled him when Gerard said he liked small people, actually all small living things considered he liked Chihuahuas. Cesc was smaller than Gerard but not that small. It hit him in the face when Gerard said he preferred Lionel to Bojan, that meant Cesc himself didn't even fall into Gerard's category of interest. It stabbed him when Gerard said he 'liked' Lionel, and almost killed him when he said resignedly that 'he's a boy.'
Don't all those mean he's simply unqualified?
But why would he care?
Of course, he cared. Cesc Fàbregas was many things but idiot, he knew what he wanted.
And apparently he also knew that he could never have it.
***
"Try this."
David chuckled while handing the Spaniard a glass of Glen Grant. The gold single malt scotch whiskey filled a quarter of the glass. Forty percent of alcohol was too much for simply a gulp or two of amateur drinkers, and to be honest, Iker had had more than ten gulps already. What even worse was that they weren't even the same kind of alcohol, they had tried vodka and brandy before, and now those hot liquids were having full effect on him. Inside it felt like there held a rambunctious theme park, though no sound was actually heard. The Spaniard felt like his intestine was now a roller coaster, his stomach a hurricane condor, his brain a top spin, and his whole body a drop tower ready to tumble upside down.
And it was burning, both inside his body and the weather around him right now.
"Dave, I dan't thank I should drank a drap morrre...," he couldn't even talk properly now. David snickered preposterously.
"One more, come on!" He insisted, took Iker's hand and put the glass in it. He then turned about to pour himself another glass of whiskey, too.
"Haw would ya be able to wake up and fand Vactoria tomarrow if we keep da-ing this?" Iker chortled good-humoredly, eyeing the English boy's new glass of spirits in his hand.
"We'll be okay," David answered then turned around again, clanked Iker's tumbler with his. "Bottom up." He grinned.
"What?!"
Though Iker didn't consent, once the British drank his in one gulp and smirked challengingly at the Spaniard, he couldn't resist. The golden liquid was so flammable it sent fiery sensation diffuse all over his body. Iker could actually feel how the fluid travel deep inside, via his mouth then his pharynx, through his gullet and arrived safely in his stomach, and not exaggerating, Iker swore he felt it disperse into his veins, too. That liquor burned his tissue all the way down.
If he'd have to swallow a gulp more, he's sure he would throw up in David’s face.
That's why he's so glad when David took that glass out of his hand and put it down on the table carelessly.
"Okay, that's enough." The Londoner's attention changed to the telly. Snatching the remote control, he browsed through channels after channels. It was 1 a.m. already, not so many things to watch at this late hour.
Then David stopped at a channel, the screen displaying an adult movie, and Iker could tell even through his hazy mind that the couple was both boys.
"What da fuck are ya watching?!" Laughing, Iker hit the other boy sitting next to him with a pillow. David guffawed, snatched that pillow and held it tight to his chest.
"I've never watched this kind of movie," he murmured, eyes unwavered from the film. "I mean, I've watched it, but not the gay ones."
"You shan't." Iker chuckled. "Change da channel, let's just fand some animal planets ta watch." The Spaniard reached for the remote control but David instantly swatted his hand away.
"No, let's watch this first. Don't you wanna know how they do it?" The English said like it was normal knowledge to learn, like he's taking lessons of how to make a chocolate bar or a cupcake.
"Haw they do what?!" Iker yelled but had already stopped deterring David from watching. He now also sat there silently, watching gay porn with wide astonished eyes.
Five minutes later, Iker felt like he's having a fever, inside of him was steaming and he really wasn't sure either it's because of those boozes he had before or the movie. So he budged. "That's enough," he said, but to his surprise, his voice was hoarse and low until he couldn't even hear it himself. David turned around.
"What did you say?" He raised his brow. The Spaniard swallowed, trying so hard to compose.
"That's enough," he reiterated, reached out in hope to yank the remote control off the English's hand but David held it away to the far side so Iker couldn't grasp it easily. The Londoner smirked.
Iker gritted his teeth, he recognized a dare when he saw one. 'If you want it, come get it,' it's read. So Iker jostled and even climbed into David's lap until eventually he grabbed the other boy's wrist. David laughed.
"Okay, okay, I yield." He chuckled. "But why are you so hot, Iker?"
The Spaniard's startled by the words and the British felt it so he hurriedly explained, "I mean hot like your body’s temperature is hot...," his voice trailed off as the back of his right hand gently touched Iker's forehead. "Damn, you're really hot. Are you having a fever or something?" He seemed to be so worried, Iker avoided their eye contact.
"I guess it's because of da boozes," he murmured, voice still dry.
"So I guess it's time to go to bed," David concluded, turned off the television immediately this time. Getting up, he grabbed Iker's wrist to pull him up together.
"I thank we need ta clean these stuffs farst otherwise ya dad would kill ya tomarrow farst thang if he sees what we've done." Iker gestured to the table full of so many kinds of alcohols which meant one of his children had tried them without permission.
"I'll do it after sending you to bed," David said and hauled Iker through the living room to the hallway then up the stairs.
David did as he said, after putting Iker to his own single bed, he went down to clean up the mess. After stripping off his jeans, Iker lay there, eyes wide-open staring at the ceiling though the room was dark. He didn't feel like sleeping at all, the theme park inside him was still running hectically and it'd got worse since they started watching that movie.
He wouldn't be able to sleep it off at this stage, Iker knew it, he would need some kinds of release...
The door opened and David came in. He didn't say anything while taking off sneakers and tucking himself under the same duvet. They both didn't mind of course, the bed was small yet not too difficult to handle two teenage boys at the same time.
Five minutes, ten minutes, and Iker still couldn't sleep. They're lying with their backs to one another. The Spaniard budged once in a while because he's too agitated to stay in peace and tried to hark the other boy's breathing rhythm to detect whether he'd already fallen asleep, which if so he would grasp a chance to rearrange himself in the loo, it would take only two minutes...
"Iker," David's voice uttering from the deep abyss of silence startled Iker. Sure as hell, the English still awoke. "You can't sleep?" The Spaniard heard movement behind him and realized that David had turned around now.
"Umm," Iker murmured, didn't think he should turn around, too. Though darkness could be the best mask, he knew something in his eyes might easily give away. "I've neva been drunk, so it might take times," he lied.
Silence crept up between them for a while, but Iker knew David was still awoke, his heavy breaths betrayed him. He wasn't sure whether David was drunk, he seemed so collected, but after all those shots, who knew?
"Let me help you," David said all of a sudden. Iker didn't even have a second to question what he thought he could help when a hand swiftly slid over his hip to his crotch.
"David!" Iker jolted immediately. He caught the English's wrist but it was too late. David had already touched his groin and definitely knew by now that he's so damn hard.
Iker squeezed his eyes shut, didn't dare facing any bit of reality now.
"You can't sleep like this, you know it," David hissed in his ears. When the British had got this close to him, Iker didn't know. The Londoner moved his hand against the Spaniard's forceful grip which seemed to back down a bit by now, grabbing Iker's erection through the fabric of his shorts.
The Spaniard breathed in deeply and didn't dare breathing out again for a whole minute after that.
David slid his hand under Iker's shorts without asking for permission, and Iker didn't object. The first touch of David's hand on his bare skin jerked the Spaniard, it's very cold, which meant that his own hard flesh was so inflamed. The Londoner fumbled with it until he found the most comfortable position, then started, very slowly, stroking it.
"D-David!" The Spaniard huffed, recoiling from David's touch since it aroused too much.
But the British pinned him to bed with firm arms, Iker felt that David had been holding his breaths, too, before whispered consolingly, "Relax," though Iker didn't feel that it could help anything. He panted hard, his body was screaming, it begged him to set it free, to release, to ejaculate...
When he's on the verge of orgasm, the English suddenly halted his hand job. The Spaniard was about to protest when David's both hands caught him, turned him over and before he could realize anything, found that his lips had been kissed by David's.
Iker's eyes widened in shock, David’s lips were cold compared with the Spaniard’s skin temperature. The British broke off soon enough but then nibbled down the other's neck. "Iker...," his voice was hoarse and full of desire, and Iker, shamefully, found that it stimulated him even more.
He didn't even realize when they struggled to take each other's clothes off, when David kissed him down his chest, belly, and beyond. He didn't know since when the British was aroused, maybe since he'd tried to help Iker out, or even before since they'd been watching that porn downstairs. When David tried to hurriedly thrust his shaft into Iker, it's so damn painful at first. But when he put some saliva there and they tried to move together, bit by bit, they gradually fit in and the rhythm after that, though rough and fast, was so natural they didn't have to think what to do next. That porn was useless as educational material, it's inessential because the real how was already there in the back of their brains, it's in their instincts from the start.
When they climaxed together that night, David came inside Iker and the Spaniard spurted all over his own stomach. Iker didn't know how long time had passed since they'd started this until it finally ended, he's too drunk to care, or even for his brain to function properly, and the orgasm sent him even higher until the world around him was spinning and blurred.
But as they fell asleep together, Iker in David's arm, he wished that when he woke up tomorrow, everything that happened tonight would be just a dream.
A very sweet dream.
To be continued in Chapter 4.
A/N: One of the best versions of Lionel Richie's Hello played by piano is here (Oh, I loveee this song sooo much).
And this is Clair de Lune by Claude Debussy.
Oh, and yesterday's game Liverpool won 0-4, hurrah!
Comments, hon!
.
Authors:
fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger / Fernando Torres, Steven Gerrard / Xabi Alonso, David Beckham / Iker Casillas, Gerard Pique / Cesc Fabregas
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU / Romance
Word Count: 4,234 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 chapters: 1, 2
The $64,000 Conundrum
Chapter 3
Xabi's plan was a bit miscalculated.
He arrived at school every morning to find that there was a bag of breakfast hooking on his locker handle. Someday there were sandwiches, someday croissants, or sometimes other kinds of pastries. No matter how early he came, he had never found the bearer. And every afternoon when he returned to his locker, the bag, if he left it there with a thank you note, would be gone mysteriously without Xabi’s notice.
How could he do that? Is Mr. X a magician or something?
'What is our universe dominated by?'
An incoming message sent Xabi quirk his brow, he smiled while typing a text back,
'Love.'
He hit send, snickered then typed another,
'I'm kidding, the answer is dark energy.'
He put his cell on the table and listened to Mr. Murinho who's relentlessly teaching Napolean War in front of the class. The next minute his phone vibrated again, Xabi fetched it ignorantly.
'Would u like 2 meet?'
That came unaware. Xabi's eyes widened, his thumb transfixed on the pad as he stared at the message disbelievingly.
It had been a month that this game began, a month since the first day the mystic messages appeared on his mobile screen. At first he was nonplussed then curious to know who the sender was, he often found himself slowly glancing around the surrounding crowd looking for clues of who could be the one. From that, he frequently caught a pair of brown eyes sneakily gazing back at him from afar.
Their owner was Mikel Arteta.
Of course, Xabi wasn't sure whether he's the real Mr. Anonymous who kept sending him texts and also bags of breakfast every morning, yet he's the only person in this school who Xabi was quite certain had explicit interest in him. Xabi had never had girlfriends or boyfriends, but he knew when there's someone keeping an eye on him most of the time, he's not stupid.
If there would be someone up his butt, the only one he could think of was Arteta.
Xabi typed back without mulling too long.
'When and where?'
He waited two-minute long, and during that Mr. Murinho's voice went in one ear and out the other without leaving any trace in his brain. Then his phone vibrated again - it had been in his hand all the time. Xabi opened the message.
'After school. Behind the gym?'
Xabi pursed his lips. Of course, he didn't need to consider long. The Basque replied as his heart drummed in his chest.
'Sure, 4pm, c u there.'
***
Fernando REALLY didn't wanna go home.
Okay, he knew everybody might be annoyed by this reiteration, he was even bored with the notion himself. But Fernando really didn't want to go back to the place where should be cordial and comfortable, should provide him resort. Instead of reposal, reality was that he would go back to find Daniel Agger in the same room and that made him really couldn't live in peace.
So after having finished classes, Fernando decided he would spend more time at school. He refused Sergio's and Jesus' invitation for a football game and chose somewhere else that's more pacific instead. He went to the school's classical music room - the place he loved to go when in need of somewhere to hide.
Fernando opened the door, to find that the room was large yet empty which was what he wanted. There were many kinds of musical instruments, one corner held violins and cello, another had saxophone and trumpets, there're also classical guitars and harp in one crook, while the other had accordion, clavinet and piano.
The Spaniard sauntered to the keyboard instrument section.
He reached the piano, it stood there in a niche of the room tranquilly yet majestically. Fernando’s fingers had brushed its polished surface down to the keyboard before he sat down on a stool in front. All of his ten fingers had grazed the white and black keys, testing their tunes before started playing a piece.
'Clair de Lune,' the third movement of 'Suite bergamasque' by Debussy - one of his favorites. All his preferred pieces had a common quality: they calmed him down somehow.
Music filled the vague space. The soft, smooth and harmonious rhythm sounded so placid that its hypnotizing melody could actually take his mind away from life's difficulty. The blonde’s lean fingers caressed the ivories airily like kisses of butterfly’s feather. Evening sunlight broke through the window, pouring coral ray on the carpeted floor and the piano's black beech wood, too bad it's not moonlight. So the Spaniard closed his eyes, let his mind flow with the movement and imagine the beauty of the moon in his head. It took almost three minutes until he stroked the last notes and ended the melody grandiosely.
Only two seconds of silence, two seconds that the room was absent of sound, then applause broke the serenity. Fernando startled. "Whew," a whistle came from the direction of the door. The Spaniard snapped his head around,
To find Daniel Agger standing in the doorway, clapping inertly. The blonde was petrified as the Dane shambled in tardily.
"What are you doing here?" Fernando snarled, though his heart raced in a bizarre pace. Well, wasn't that boy the bane of his existence? Wasn't he the reason he's here in the first place? Agger reached the piano, his otherwise callous fingers grazed the burnished black beech.
"You have to go back home with me," he simply stated, didn't look Fernando in the eyes.
"What?" The Spaniard stared at the other boy, couldn't believe his own ears.
"Don't you ever think that I'm willing to do this," the Dane snorted. "I just do what my mom told me to do. If I don't do it today, I'll have to do it tomorrow. So let's just get it over with." He eyed the Spaniard. Fernando didn't know what to reply, he shifted restlessly in his seat.
"How did you know I'm here?" He asked, and Agger snorted again.
"How's that difficult to guess?" He asked. "We've just finished class so you couldn't be far. When I noticed you weren't in class anymore, I decided to check here first." The Dane smirked. "And yeah, I'm a genius. I knew that it's you the moment I heard the piano, didn't even have to open the door to confirm it." With that, it's Fernando's turn to snort.
"How the hell could you tell that it's me only from hearing the piano?"
Agger eluded the question. "Play more," he said.
"What?" Fernando gawked at him the umpteenth time.
"I said 'play more.' What's so difficult with that?" He snapped but looking a bit anxious. The Spaniard slowly smiled knowingly. Arguing no more, he turned back to the piano and stroked the keyboard.
He would try something different this time, something more modern maybe? He thought for a moment then solo played his other favourite song, 'Hello' by Lionel Richie.
The Dane hushed, and like the world around them was suddenly enchanted. As Torres’ fingers flew over the tide of rhythm, contriving spellbinding melody, Daniel was completely captivated by the sad music. With the Spaniard's feathery touches on the ivories, he envisioned an angel sitting here with his wings stroking the keyboard so the notes drifting out of it could be this celestial.
Daniel didn't even notice when the song finally ended, like the spell was still lingering in the air and thoroughly engulfed his soul with its magic, not until Torres cleared his throat.
"Isn't that impressive?" The Spaniard asked, impish smile on his lips. Daniel knew his reaction had given Torres confidence, which he didn't like it at all.
"Let's go home," he hissed through gritted teeth, spun around and stalked out of the room grumpily.
Fernando giggled before getting up and following the Dane back home.
***
Xabi's heart was drumming in his chest in an uneven rhythm. It's five minutes to four, five minutes more until the time of their appointment. He's so nervous sitting in class, unmeaningful words went through his ears, Mr. Pellegrini's voice had no meaning to him now. The only thing Xabi wished to hear right then was the bell ringing..., okay, the other thing might be the vibrating sound of his phone.
It seemed like forever but finally the bell rang. The final class of today had ended and students all rose from their seats, gathering belongings then getting out of the room. Xabi did the same. Stalking cautiously, he intermittently looked from left to right searching for anyone who seemed to be looking in his direction, but found none. The Basque walked out of the building, still no one followed. So he paced along the pitch, his destination was the gymnasium on the far side of it.
Many students were on the pitch ready for an after-school game. Xabi didn't take much notice of those boys, he strode towards the back of the gym.
"Alonso."
Xabi stopped short just before turning around the gym corner as his name was called out from behind. That voice was unfamiliar and Xabi didn't even know why his heart was beating this fast as he turned around to face the speaker.
The boy stood anxiously in front of him wasn't beyond his expectation. It's Mikel Arteta.
"Err, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I just arrived at the pitch and saw you. I've never noticed that you normally play football?"
Xabi quirked his brow, really didn't understand what Arteta was talking about. Arteta shifted on his spot to the other Spaniard's questioningly piercing brown eyes. "I'm sorry to be rude, you might not even know me. I'm Mikel, studying in the same year as you, 12th grade, room 2," he paused, looked a bit agitated. "I just wanna ask whether you’d like to play football with us?"
Xabi didn't understand a thing. What was happening? Arteta acted like he just encountered with Xabi perchance, then simply asked him to play football with his friends? Well, that's a bit unforeseen, he didn't expect this when he first read the message 'would u like 2 meet?' He didn't assume that's the reason Arteta asked them to meet at the gym. At one moment a thought crossed Xabi's mind that maybe Arteta might have nothing to do with this at all, maybe Mr. Anonymous was totally someone else. But then Xabi dismissed the idea, how could it be someone else? It's Arteta and Arteta all along, he knew and was quite confident of this knowledge for quite some time now. If it's not Arteta who was Mr. X, then no one was, he couldn't think of anyone further in this school...
"Well, I didn't mean to intervene or anything. If you have something else to do, don't heed me. I was just wondering whether you'd like an idea of playing football together. If you don't, then I would bother you no more," Arteta stammered, he's quite restless now seeing that the other boy had been silent for too long. Then Xabi decided.
"Can you wait for me for a minute?" He blurted out.
"Pardon?" Arteta didn't understand but Xabi didn't wait for his answer. He turned towards to back of the gym, just wanted to make sure that he didn't miss anything. Xabi held his breath as he turned around the corner.
The lawn there was vacant, there's no one.
Xabi didn't realize when he slowly exhaled, in relief, he guessed. Arteta followed him a minute later as Xabi still stood there unmoved.
"Is there something wrong, Alonso?" He asked unsurely. When Xabi turned around at last, a soft smile had already glossed his lips.
"Nothing," he said. "Let's go to the pitch so you can introduce me to your friends, shall we?"
***
"Cesc, over here!"
Gerard's voice came from the right side of the pitch. Cesc glimpsed over there then sent the ball with his right foot, aiming at Gerard. It landed precisely in front of his taller friend and Gerard snatched the ball, used his giantess advantage to thwart other players. He ran along the wing side - though his position was actually centre-back - then kicked the ball to a striker waiting in cue on the front line.
Lionel Messi caught it, with his tiny figure he ran swiftly past the other team's centre-back leaving Sergio Ramos not a chance. Lionel was alone with the goalkeeper now, he swerved to the right and kicked.
The ball was sent to the back of the net aesthetically.
His team shouted out roar of cheers. They all ran up to Lionel, squeezed him in strangling embraces. Lionel laughed good-humoredly. Gerard was one of the lasts who approached him. The Argentinean turned to the taller boy, smiled widely while hugging him.
"You assisted me again, Gery," Lionel murmured against Gerard's firm chest. "Thanks."
"No prob, babe," Gerard replied, he always called Lionel pet names since the other was so tiny, he fitted perfectly in the taller boy's arms until Gerard couldn't resist treating him like a little girl.
They parted and resumed their positions for a new kickoff. When the game finally ended, Gerard walked to Cesc and slung his arm around the other boy's neck loosely. "What do you think about Lionel?" He asked. Cesc raised his brow.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I think I like him," Gerard whispered. And Cesc's eyes widened.
"What?"
"I don't know, dude..." His eyes couldn't be taken off Lionel who's walking out of the pitch with Bojan Krkić. "I always adore small people, they're cute. Bojan is endearing, too, but I think I prefer Lionel," he babbled, then sighed. "But he's a boy."
Of course, Gerard would never notice how Cesc's countenance distorted though very slightly. It prickled him when Gerard said he liked small people, actually all small living things considered he liked Chihuahuas. Cesc was smaller than Gerard but not that small. It hit him in the face when Gerard said he preferred Lionel to Bojan, that meant Cesc himself didn't even fall into Gerard's category of interest. It stabbed him when Gerard said he 'liked' Lionel, and almost killed him when he said resignedly that 'he's a boy.'
Don't all those mean he's simply unqualified?
But why would he care?
Of course, he cared. Cesc Fàbregas was many things but idiot, he knew what he wanted.
And apparently he also knew that he could never have it.
***
"Try this."
David chuckled while handing the Spaniard a glass of Glen Grant. The gold single malt scotch whiskey filled a quarter of the glass. Forty percent of alcohol was too much for simply a gulp or two of amateur drinkers, and to be honest, Iker had had more than ten gulps already. What even worse was that they weren't even the same kind of alcohol, they had tried vodka and brandy before, and now those hot liquids were having full effect on him. Inside it felt like there held a rambunctious theme park, though no sound was actually heard. The Spaniard felt like his intestine was now a roller coaster, his stomach a hurricane condor, his brain a top spin, and his whole body a drop tower ready to tumble upside down.
And it was burning, both inside his body and the weather around him right now.
"Dave, I dan't thank I should drank a drap morrre...," he couldn't even talk properly now. David snickered preposterously.
"One more, come on!" He insisted, took Iker's hand and put the glass in it. He then turned about to pour himself another glass of whiskey, too.
"Haw would ya be able to wake up and fand Vactoria tomarrow if we keep da-ing this?" Iker chortled good-humoredly, eyeing the English boy's new glass of spirits in his hand.
"We'll be okay," David answered then turned around again, clanked Iker's tumbler with his. "Bottom up." He grinned.
"What?!"
Though Iker didn't consent, once the British drank his in one gulp and smirked challengingly at the Spaniard, he couldn't resist. The golden liquid was so flammable it sent fiery sensation diffuse all over his body. Iker could actually feel how the fluid travel deep inside, via his mouth then his pharynx, through his gullet and arrived safely in his stomach, and not exaggerating, Iker swore he felt it disperse into his veins, too. That liquor burned his tissue all the way down.
If he'd have to swallow a gulp more, he's sure he would throw up in David’s face.
That's why he's so glad when David took that glass out of his hand and put it down on the table carelessly.
"Okay, that's enough." The Londoner's attention changed to the telly. Snatching the remote control, he browsed through channels after channels. It was 1 a.m. already, not so many things to watch at this late hour.
Then David stopped at a channel, the screen displaying an adult movie, and Iker could tell even through his hazy mind that the couple was both boys.
"What da fuck are ya watching?!" Laughing, Iker hit the other boy sitting next to him with a pillow. David guffawed, snatched that pillow and held it tight to his chest.
"I've never watched this kind of movie," he murmured, eyes unwavered from the film. "I mean, I've watched it, but not the gay ones."
"You shan't." Iker chuckled. "Change da channel, let's just fand some animal planets ta watch." The Spaniard reached for the remote control but David instantly swatted his hand away.
"No, let's watch this first. Don't you wanna know how they do it?" The English said like it was normal knowledge to learn, like he's taking lessons of how to make a chocolate bar or a cupcake.
"Haw they do what?!" Iker yelled but had already stopped deterring David from watching. He now also sat there silently, watching gay porn with wide astonished eyes.
Five minutes later, Iker felt like he's having a fever, inside of him was steaming and he really wasn't sure either it's because of those boozes he had before or the movie. So he budged. "That's enough," he said, but to his surprise, his voice was hoarse and low until he couldn't even hear it himself. David turned around.
"What did you say?" He raised his brow. The Spaniard swallowed, trying so hard to compose.
"That's enough," he reiterated, reached out in hope to yank the remote control off the English's hand but David held it away to the far side so Iker couldn't grasp it easily. The Londoner smirked.
Iker gritted his teeth, he recognized a dare when he saw one. 'If you want it, come get it,' it's read. So Iker jostled and even climbed into David's lap until eventually he grabbed the other boy's wrist. David laughed.
"Okay, okay, I yield." He chuckled. "But why are you so hot, Iker?"
The Spaniard's startled by the words and the British felt it so he hurriedly explained, "I mean hot like your body’s temperature is hot...," his voice trailed off as the back of his right hand gently touched Iker's forehead. "Damn, you're really hot. Are you having a fever or something?" He seemed to be so worried, Iker avoided their eye contact.
"I guess it's because of da boozes," he murmured, voice still dry.
"So I guess it's time to go to bed," David concluded, turned off the television immediately this time. Getting up, he grabbed Iker's wrist to pull him up together.
"I thank we need ta clean these stuffs farst otherwise ya dad would kill ya tomarrow farst thang if he sees what we've done." Iker gestured to the table full of so many kinds of alcohols which meant one of his children had tried them without permission.
"I'll do it after sending you to bed," David said and hauled Iker through the living room to the hallway then up the stairs.
David did as he said, after putting Iker to his own single bed, he went down to clean up the mess. After stripping off his jeans, Iker lay there, eyes wide-open staring at the ceiling though the room was dark. He didn't feel like sleeping at all, the theme park inside him was still running hectically and it'd got worse since they started watching that movie.
He wouldn't be able to sleep it off at this stage, Iker knew it, he would need some kinds of release...
The door opened and David came in. He didn't say anything while taking off sneakers and tucking himself under the same duvet. They both didn't mind of course, the bed was small yet not too difficult to handle two teenage boys at the same time.
Five minutes, ten minutes, and Iker still couldn't sleep. They're lying with their backs to one another. The Spaniard budged once in a while because he's too agitated to stay in peace and tried to hark the other boy's breathing rhythm to detect whether he'd already fallen asleep, which if so he would grasp a chance to rearrange himself in the loo, it would take only two minutes...
"Iker," David's voice uttering from the deep abyss of silence startled Iker. Sure as hell, the English still awoke. "You can't sleep?" The Spaniard heard movement behind him and realized that David had turned around now.
"Umm," Iker murmured, didn't think he should turn around, too. Though darkness could be the best mask, he knew something in his eyes might easily give away. "I've neva been drunk, so it might take times," he lied.
Silence crept up between them for a while, but Iker knew David was still awoke, his heavy breaths betrayed him. He wasn't sure whether David was drunk, he seemed so collected, but after all those shots, who knew?
"Let me help you," David said all of a sudden. Iker didn't even have a second to question what he thought he could help when a hand swiftly slid over his hip to his crotch.
"David!" Iker jolted immediately. He caught the English's wrist but it was too late. David had already touched his groin and definitely knew by now that he's so damn hard.
Iker squeezed his eyes shut, didn't dare facing any bit of reality now.
"You can't sleep like this, you know it," David hissed in his ears. When the British had got this close to him, Iker didn't know. The Londoner moved his hand against the Spaniard's forceful grip which seemed to back down a bit by now, grabbing Iker's erection through the fabric of his shorts.
The Spaniard breathed in deeply and didn't dare breathing out again for a whole minute after that.
David slid his hand under Iker's shorts without asking for permission, and Iker didn't object. The first touch of David's hand on his bare skin jerked the Spaniard, it's very cold, which meant that his own hard flesh was so inflamed. The Londoner fumbled with it until he found the most comfortable position, then started, very slowly, stroking it.
"D-David!" The Spaniard huffed, recoiling from David's touch since it aroused too much.
But the British pinned him to bed with firm arms, Iker felt that David had been holding his breaths, too, before whispered consolingly, "Relax," though Iker didn't feel that it could help anything. He panted hard, his body was screaming, it begged him to set it free, to release, to ejaculate...
When he's on the verge of orgasm, the English suddenly halted his hand job. The Spaniard was about to protest when David's both hands caught him, turned him over and before he could realize anything, found that his lips had been kissed by David's.
Iker's eyes widened in shock, David’s lips were cold compared with the Spaniard’s skin temperature. The British broke off soon enough but then nibbled down the other's neck. "Iker...," his voice was hoarse and full of desire, and Iker, shamefully, found that it stimulated him even more.
He didn't even realize when they struggled to take each other's clothes off, when David kissed him down his chest, belly, and beyond. He didn't know since when the British was aroused, maybe since he'd tried to help Iker out, or even before since they'd been watching that porn downstairs. When David tried to hurriedly thrust his shaft into Iker, it's so damn painful at first. But when he put some saliva there and they tried to move together, bit by bit, they gradually fit in and the rhythm after that, though rough and fast, was so natural they didn't have to think what to do next. That porn was useless as educational material, it's inessential because the real how was already there in the back of their brains, it's in their instincts from the start.
When they climaxed together that night, David came inside Iker and the Spaniard spurted all over his own stomach. Iker didn't know how long time had passed since they'd started this until it finally ended, he's too drunk to care, or even for his brain to function properly, and the orgasm sent him even higher until the world around him was spinning and blurred.
But as they fell asleep together, Iker in David's arm, he wished that when he woke up tomorrow, everything that happened tonight would be just a dream.
A very sweet dream.
To be continued in Chapter 4.
A/N: One of the best versions of Lionel Richie's Hello played by piano is here (Oh, I loveee this song sooo much).
And this is Clair de Lune by Claude Debussy.
Oh, and yesterday's game Liverpool won 0-4, hurrah!
Comments, hon!
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