The $64,000 Conundrum: Chapter 5
Title: The $64,000 Conundrum: Chapter 5
Authors: fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger / Fernando Torres, Steven Gerrard / Xabi Alonso, David Beckham / Iker Casillas, Gerard Pique / Cesc Fabregas
Rating: PG-13 (This part)
Genre: AU / Romance
Word Count: 3,349 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, 3, 4
The $64,000 Conundrum
Chapter 5
His nightmare came sooner than he'd expected.
"I had lunch with Lionel yesterday."
It's Sunday and Gerard had just shambled into Cesc's house. Arsenal barked then wagged his tail excitedly looking for Bazooka. When he didn't find his friend, he looked confused at first, then Cesc could even tell there's a glint of disappointment apparent in his eyes. Turning around with his tail tugging between tiny hind legs, he walked back to lie at Cesc's feet, looking forlorn. It'd been a week since Arsenal hadn't seen his friend.
And Cesc could tell that he's dying inside.
But Cesc would care a bit more if Gerard's first greeting had been something else.
"What?" He asked, a bit shocked.
"Well, I asked him to go out with me." Gerard ensconced in the couch beside Cesc. "And he said yes. We had lunch and strolled around La Vaguada."
"And?" Cesc asked after Gerard had paused. He felt something queasy in his stomach.
"And it went fine," Gerard mumbled. "What do you think?"
Cesc felt like someone had just hit him in the face. "About what?" His voice was husky.
"Lionel," Gerard mumbled, "and Lionel and me."
He sucks! Cesc's mind screamed. And he's a boy, as you seemed to mind earlier, what happen with that now?! Also when you stand together, you are like a giant and a dwarf, and that's considered interbreeding!
But, yeah, self-control, and he couldn't point out about homosexuals anyway, since he seemed to be one.
"Whatever," that's the best he could offer.
"Yeah." And Gerard didn't even seem to listen to him. He kicked Arsenal playfully. The puppy growled. "Is he mad at me for not bringing Bazooka along?" He suddenly changed the topic.
"You should stop doing this," Cesc snapped, didn't even know he's referring to the puppies' dissociation, the kicks at Arsenal, or the Messi thing.
"Bazooka looked awful, too. He keeps howling, eats less, and doesn't play with other puppies like he means it," Gerard mused. "Give me a week more, I wanna see will they finally forget each other."
"What the fuck are you trying to prove?!" Cesc fumed. "What if they get worse? What if they die?!"
"No, they'll not," Gerard insisted. "They'll eventually adapt, make do of what they have and move on. You said it yourself, they're just puppies, they can't love."
"I've never said they can't love!" Cesc shouted, feeling anger flare in his chest every passing second. Though he's the one who said that they'd move on soon enough, it's just a silly theory he'd heard of. He felt sorry for the puppies for having to go through something they're not guilty of. He felt like he's responsible for their despondence so he became very protective now, also it felt like the one who had actually been tested here was him and not his dog.
"You implied enough," Gerard pointed out, imperturbable by his friend's fury. "And it's just another week, it couldn't harm them. They'd better get used to it actually in case-"
"You're playing with their hearts!" Cesc didn't wanna hear what case Gerard was thinking of, he didn't want to hear about a life without Gerard anymore.
"I'm playing with their instincts." How could Gerard be so scientific at this moment Cesc could never understand. He might argue further but he knew he'd never win this argument, and now he's too susceptible, the topic unnerved him too much and instead of Arsenal, he saw himself agonizingly dying inside.
A puppy might survive heartbreak but that doesn't mean he would, too.
***
"Iker."
David caught him on Monday morning, the class hadn't started yet.
"David." Iker smiled back, trying to make it sincere as much as possible. Sitting down at a desk beside him, the Londoner looked at the floor and sighed deeply. "How're things going?" The Spaniard asked when the English boy just kept silent.
"I'm lost," he replied.
Iker blinked. "What?"
He leaned in. "Well, we had lunch, then we went for ice creams. It sounds very simple, right? But I'm so nervous and kept doing the wrong things, like stammering or dropping my fork. Victoria just giggled, I don't know whether she minded."
"I think that's normal," Iker pointed out. "You like her, and it's your first date. Anybody would be nervous."
David swayed his body. "Can you go with me next time?" He blurted out.
Iker sighed. "David, you can't do it like that. It's your and Victoria's date, not mine."
"But I think the only person that could keep me calm is you," he contemplated.
"You'll learn to calm yourself eventually," the Spaniard said. "I can't be with you all the time."
David looked at him. "Why not?"
Iker froze. "Why not? Christ, David, because it's not working that way. You can't just drag me into your relationship, what will Victoria think?"
"Please."
That came unexpected, and Iker stared at the other boy. He saw uncertainty in the Londoner's eyes and he did look like a real lost puppy.
Iker's heart went weak for him again. "Fine." He sighed.
The gleeful look on David's face was worth it a thousand times over.
Victoria Adams didn't look happy just one bit.
The second date on the next weekend, they went to La Vaguada - a shopping mall. 'They' included Victoria, David and Iker, though the Spaniard kept the distance and always kept silent except when David asked him questions. David looked happier than on their first date, he kept blabbering on and on, and Victoria kept scowling.
They had lunch together, David sat next to Iker, Victoria on the opposite, they had pizza and David cut the pizzas and put them in Iker's plate, not hers. He kept asking Iker whether he'd like something more, but not her. After the meal, they strolled around the department store. Though they let Victoria choose the shops, tagged along uncomplaining and waited patiently when she went into the fitting room, she'd never felt this lonesome when she turned around and found David snickering with Iker while trying on their garments: hats or ties or whatever. Or when they chose to eat ice-cream and David seemed to be interested in which flavor Iker would like rather than her, or when they walked too much and was a bit tired, the English boy turned to ask Iker whether he'd like to sit and rest just a bit instead of asking her.
She didn't know why she's here.
It's not that she doesn't like Iker, he's David's friend and she'd rather get along with him if she wants David, which apparently she wants. David's handsome like some poster boys in teenage magazines though a bit nervous when he's with her. But this time he's so much better, he'd stopped stammering and dropping things so far, which Victoria wondered might be because of Iker. That might be the reason David had dragged his friend along, because Iker could calm him.
Still, there's this universal rule that everyone quite accepted that when you asked someone out on a date, it should involve only two or at least people in even numbers, not three like this. She felt like being the third wheel here instead of the Spaniard. But she didn't want to ruin the day though she'd been in a bad mood so far.
It went good for David but Iker knew Victoria didn't like his presence a bit, one could tell from the permanent grimace on her pretty face. But that wasn't his concern as long as his friend was happy, which apparently he was.
After strolling around the mall until late afternoon, Victoria said she needed to be home for dinner with a look at David promising that they would have a word about this later with the English boy's obvious oblivion. So Iker knew it's definitely not his place to tell when David joyfully slung his arm around the Spaniard shoulder's and said, "this is so fun! You'll have to come with us again next time."
This was so not fun that he's sure as hell Victoria might slip poison in his drink the very next time.
***
"Morning."
"Morning," Xabi smiled sincerely at Mikel. It's a bright Tuesday morning though the cool wind still shook him slightly. Mikel just arrived at Xabi's house to pick him up to school. Xabi had never been pampered by anyone before so he felt a bit weird.
"Err, have you have breakfast yet? Would you like to have something to eat?" He didn't even know what he had in the fridge, might be a bottle of milk or some sandwiches. He normally didn't have breakfast, and since the mysterious bag had ceased appearing at his locker every morning, he hadn't had it anymore.
To be honest, he missed it a bit.
He'd never talked about this to Mikel, either the breakfasts or the messages, and as time passed Xabi started to think that he'd figured it out all wrong. But then he'd already decided that he'd be together with Mikel, so he'd give it a try anyway.
"I already have it at home," Mikel said, smiling. "Have you? I can wait if you haven't, we still have time."
"Right." His stomach protested on the mention of food, the esoteric plastic bag had made itself quite a habit in Xabi's life already. Letting Mikel in, he walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He found only fruits that could make do at this minute so he snatched a banana into his bag.
"You should've proper breakfast, you know?" Mikel started when they walked out of the house together. "Actually you can come have it at my house every morning if you want, my mom cooks."
"I'll think about it," Xabi said just to drop the subject.
At lunch break, Mikel also picked him up at his classroom to have lunch, with Mikel's friends or Xabi's friends or alone together. They talked about everything may it be food, weather, news, history, yet their favourite subjects were football and physics.
Mikel wasn't bad at science, he's quite genius at it actually. He applied to Faculty of Physics in many famous universities for further education and Xabi, ecstatic when discovering this, thought that was enough. That's what he wanted, wasn't it? Someone who could share his thought, participate in his passion, have something - especially forte in science - in common, the like-mind ones. On this level of knowledge, sometimes Xabi thought Mikel was Mr. Anonymous after all, it's just that he didn't want to disclose himself. Though as time passed, days into weeks, the thought of Mr. X was slowly fading away and Xabi started to think that it didn't matter after all whether Mikel was the one who sent him the messages or not because Mikel had the trait he's looking for anyway.
After some time, they became an item at school. Xabi's friends: Pepe Reina and Luis Garcia, teased him at first, but soon they got used to it and accepted Mikel into their circle quite easily. The same went to the English Phil Jagielka, the Dutch John Heitinga, and the Belgian Marouane Fellaini, how international, who were Mikel's chums.
As class ended every day, Mikel would wait for him out the door and they'd walk to Xabi's home together, some days they dropped by a restaurant for dinner, sometimes Mikel treated but most times they shared because Xabi thought Mikel shouldn't be the one who always paid. With these steps they're slowly taking together, Xabi was quite happy about it.
One day when they arrived at Xabi's home, Xabi turned around. "Good night and thank you for today." It's the same sentence he'd said every day that they'd spent together for about two weeks now. He's about to turn and get into the house when Mikel called,
"Xabi."
Before he knew it, Xabi was pulled close to the other Spaniard, Mikel's lips on his.
Finally. Xabi thought and closed his eyes.
He didn't feel butterflies in his stomach like the cheap romance novels always depicted, though.
***
It's Sunday.
Fernando had been trying, not that desperately, to strum through 'Hello' with his delicate fingers - as Agger had mildly put it - for so many nights in a row. Agger hadn't asked where he'd been practicing and how his practice was going, actually he only kept on absorbing in his own heavy metal performance until Fernando thought that the Dane had forgotten about him and his assignment altogether. But Fernando would not let anyone, especially himself, disappointed otherwise, so he practiced and practiced. He hauled Agger's Spanish guitar everywhere since Agger didn't seem to mind, to school so that on breaks or after classes, he could look at the sheet printed out from the Internet and strum while trying to recall the correct notes and the way to lie his fingers on the strings at each time. And when he was home - 'Agger's home,' actually - after dinner, he would occupy the living room if everyone decided to go up to their rooms early, or even the chilly porch if someone decided to stay down and watched the telly, until very late at night.
To say his perseverance had not paid off as he'd wished would be an understatement.
And so he was a bit surprised when he went up to Agger's room late after dinner and found the Dane sitting in his couch, waiting.
"Are you ready?" Agger asked as soon as Fernando shut the door behind then grinned like a wolf who had caught his prey. The Spaniard swallowed hard.
"I thought you had already forgot about this," he mumbled, shambled his way despondently to their bunk bed.
"Oh, how could I? With you lugging my precious around the town like that. Have you been taking noble care of it? Because if not-"
"Oh, please. Not even a scratch." Fernando rolled his eyes.
"Is that so?" Agger smirked lightheartedly, steepling his fingers together. "The floor is yours then."
Fernando swallowed again.
Sitting down on his bed, he put the guitar on it, too, unzipped its case and pulled it out. Agger was sitting very quietly, keeping eyes on the Spaniard. Fernando put the guitar in his lap, both hands at their ready positions: one holding the pick while the other holding its neck with his middle finger on the tight string ready to strike the first note. He hesitated before looking up uncertainly.
"Listen, this is my first-"
"For Christ's sake. Just shut up and do it, Torres," Agger snarled.
The Spaniard bit his lip, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply then started.
He played, and the world around him fell silent saved only for the melody he created. Agger's jaw dropped, he stared at Fernando disbelievingly because the Spaniard was playing it solo, unexpectedly. The tabs shifted fast but he's just a beginner after all so he's going rather slow though trying to stick to the correct rhythm as much as possible.
That's the Intro, then Verse 1 and then 2.
Sometimes in between, Fernando hummed along, it made him recall easier which note was next. He's nervous though acting otherwise, sweats even trickled down his forehead. But it's not that difficult, really, just similar to playing piano. Though the chords were another matter, they're not quite easy to remember, those would sure take time. At this point, this is easier than chords in his opinion, still he'd hit the notes wrong innumerable times already. Fernando kept his eyes on his hand, but even without looking up, he could feel Agger's gaze, not on his either hand on the Spanish guitar, but on his face.
The Spaniard started the Chorus self-consciously.
Agger leaned closer on the couch, watching Fernando intently. Like he's hypnotized by the Spaniard's lips, he caught on the rhythm and suddenly sang along the phrase,
"...Tell me how to win your heart for I haven't got a clue...,"
Fernando looked up in surprise, stopped humming all of a sudden. They stared at each other. Still, Agger continued whispering,
"...But let me start by saying..."
Then, like the past ten seconds was just a fraction of dream, he let the Spaniard finish that sentence with the Spanish guitar, alone.
Averting his eyes back to his hand, Fernando felt his cheeks heat up a bit, maybe because it's hot in here, like how his sweats were rolling down his temples. He didn't dare looking up again though he knew by every second that the intent gaze was still there. Finally he finished the song and they sat still for a while. The Dane looked at the Spaniard while the Spaniard looked at the floor, silence fell all around them.
He felt like Agger would say something like, 'where the hell did you get the tab?' or even 'Jesus, how the fuck could you do that?' Instead, when he eventually spoke up, he said, "come here."
The Spaniard looked up, confused. "What?"
"I said come here," Agger repeated calmly and patted the vacant space next to him on the couch. The Spaniard hesitated a bit then got up off the bed and walked to the Dane. He sat down and Agger suddenly scooted closer and put an arm around Fernando's back, the other laid on the Spaniard's hand which was holding the pick. Fernando stiffened immediately. "You're doing some of it wrong." Agger's soft voice was near his ear. His other hand with its arm behind Fernando's back caught the Spaniard's hand which was holding the guitar's neck softly. "In Verse 2, as the song says, 'and tell you time and time again how much I care’. At 'how much I care,' you should do it like this. It should be a bit different from the same part in Verse 1." He put his fingers on the correct positions one at a time while his other hand forced Fernando's hand to strum the pick on the right string. "See? Now do it on your own.”
"Okay," Whispering back, Fernando copied the Dane's doing with his heart beating fast. He had to repeat it a couple of times before he could put it correctly, with Agger's hand hovering near adjusting his fingers’ positions at times. He's feeling a bit dazed being in a boy's arms, with a boy's hands on his forcing them to hold and strum the guitar.
"That seems okay. Now there's this part..." And he perfectly played the difficult part between the first and the last choruses, which was fucking hard yet the Dane mastered it like it’s a piece of cake. He told Fernando to do it after he'd demonstrated. "Hold it tightly, Torres." Agger looked up from the guitar and their hands. His brows furrowed a bit, his left hand still on Fernando's but he didn't put any pressure on. Now the music seemed a bit out of tune because the Spaniard hadn't been paying much attention to the strings, but instead, the hand on him.
"Sorry," Fernando murmured, his face reddened when he realized where his thought had astrayed to. He tried to shift his focus back to the guitar and Agger calmly approved.
"There, like that," he said. "You need more practices so you can memorize them in your instinct. Your fingers need to move to the positions of correct tabs or chords automatically once you see the notes. You'll find that the difficult part for you might be to remember the chords since they're a bit different to piano chords...," and he blabbered on and on, his hands still on Fernando. No praise left his lips once but all his actions had spoken louder enough. The Spaniard tried to focus as much as he could, but then he's still dizzy from Agger's tenderness. It was wrong somehow: he in Agger's arms, in Agger's room, Agger's house. They weren't even friends. He wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. This whole situation, it's all wrong.
But then right now, why does it feel so right...to be so wrong?
To be continued in Chapter 6.
Comments! ;)
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Authors: fernedakki
Pairing: Daniel Agger / Fernando Torres, Steven Gerrard / Xabi Alonso, David Beckham / Iker Casillas, Gerard Pique / Cesc Fabregas
Rating: PG-13 (This part)
Genre: AU / Romance
Word Count: 3,349 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, 3, 4
The $64,000 Conundrum
Chapter 5
His nightmare came sooner than he'd expected.
"I had lunch with Lionel yesterday."
It's Sunday and Gerard had just shambled into Cesc's house. Arsenal barked then wagged his tail excitedly looking for Bazooka. When he didn't find his friend, he looked confused at first, then Cesc could even tell there's a glint of disappointment apparent in his eyes. Turning around with his tail tugging between tiny hind legs, he walked back to lie at Cesc's feet, looking forlorn. It'd been a week since Arsenal hadn't seen his friend.
And Cesc could tell that he's dying inside.
But Cesc would care a bit more if Gerard's first greeting had been something else.
"What?" He asked, a bit shocked.
"Well, I asked him to go out with me." Gerard ensconced in the couch beside Cesc. "And he said yes. We had lunch and strolled around La Vaguada."
"And?" Cesc asked after Gerard had paused. He felt something queasy in his stomach.
"And it went fine," Gerard mumbled. "What do you think?"
Cesc felt like someone had just hit him in the face. "About what?" His voice was husky.
"Lionel," Gerard mumbled, "and Lionel and me."
He sucks! Cesc's mind screamed. And he's a boy, as you seemed to mind earlier, what happen with that now?! Also when you stand together, you are like a giant and a dwarf, and that's considered interbreeding!
But, yeah, self-control, and he couldn't point out about homosexuals anyway, since he seemed to be one.
"Whatever," that's the best he could offer.
"Yeah." And Gerard didn't even seem to listen to him. He kicked Arsenal playfully. The puppy growled. "Is he mad at me for not bringing Bazooka along?" He suddenly changed the topic.
"You should stop doing this," Cesc snapped, didn't even know he's referring to the puppies' dissociation, the kicks at Arsenal, or the Messi thing.
"Bazooka looked awful, too. He keeps howling, eats less, and doesn't play with other puppies like he means it," Gerard mused. "Give me a week more, I wanna see will they finally forget each other."
"What the fuck are you trying to prove?!" Cesc fumed. "What if they get worse? What if they die?!"
"No, they'll not," Gerard insisted. "They'll eventually adapt, make do of what they have and move on. You said it yourself, they're just puppies, they can't love."
"I've never said they can't love!" Cesc shouted, feeling anger flare in his chest every passing second. Though he's the one who said that they'd move on soon enough, it's just a silly theory he'd heard of. He felt sorry for the puppies for having to go through something they're not guilty of. He felt like he's responsible for their despondence so he became very protective now, also it felt like the one who had actually been tested here was him and not his dog.
"You implied enough," Gerard pointed out, imperturbable by his friend's fury. "And it's just another week, it couldn't harm them. They'd better get used to it actually in case-"
"You're playing with their hearts!" Cesc didn't wanna hear what case Gerard was thinking of, he didn't want to hear about a life without Gerard anymore.
"I'm playing with their instincts." How could Gerard be so scientific at this moment Cesc could never understand. He might argue further but he knew he'd never win this argument, and now he's too susceptible, the topic unnerved him too much and instead of Arsenal, he saw himself agonizingly dying inside.
A puppy might survive heartbreak but that doesn't mean he would, too.
***
"Iker."
David caught him on Monday morning, the class hadn't started yet.
"David." Iker smiled back, trying to make it sincere as much as possible. Sitting down at a desk beside him, the Londoner looked at the floor and sighed deeply. "How're things going?" The Spaniard asked when the English boy just kept silent.
"I'm lost," he replied.
Iker blinked. "What?"
He leaned in. "Well, we had lunch, then we went for ice creams. It sounds very simple, right? But I'm so nervous and kept doing the wrong things, like stammering or dropping my fork. Victoria just giggled, I don't know whether she minded."
"I think that's normal," Iker pointed out. "You like her, and it's your first date. Anybody would be nervous."
David swayed his body. "Can you go with me next time?" He blurted out.
Iker sighed. "David, you can't do it like that. It's your and Victoria's date, not mine."
"But I think the only person that could keep me calm is you," he contemplated.
"You'll learn to calm yourself eventually," the Spaniard said. "I can't be with you all the time."
David looked at him. "Why not?"
Iker froze. "Why not? Christ, David, because it's not working that way. You can't just drag me into your relationship, what will Victoria think?"
"Please."
That came unexpected, and Iker stared at the other boy. He saw uncertainty in the Londoner's eyes and he did look like a real lost puppy.
Iker's heart went weak for him again. "Fine." He sighed.
The gleeful look on David's face was worth it a thousand times over.
Victoria Adams didn't look happy just one bit.
The second date on the next weekend, they went to La Vaguada - a shopping mall. 'They' included Victoria, David and Iker, though the Spaniard kept the distance and always kept silent except when David asked him questions. David looked happier than on their first date, he kept blabbering on and on, and Victoria kept scowling.
They had lunch together, David sat next to Iker, Victoria on the opposite, they had pizza and David cut the pizzas and put them in Iker's plate, not hers. He kept asking Iker whether he'd like something more, but not her. After the meal, they strolled around the department store. Though they let Victoria choose the shops, tagged along uncomplaining and waited patiently when she went into the fitting room, she'd never felt this lonesome when she turned around and found David snickering with Iker while trying on their garments: hats or ties or whatever. Or when they chose to eat ice-cream and David seemed to be interested in which flavor Iker would like rather than her, or when they walked too much and was a bit tired, the English boy turned to ask Iker whether he'd like to sit and rest just a bit instead of asking her.
She didn't know why she's here.
It's not that she doesn't like Iker, he's David's friend and she'd rather get along with him if she wants David, which apparently she wants. David's handsome like some poster boys in teenage magazines though a bit nervous when he's with her. But this time he's so much better, he'd stopped stammering and dropping things so far, which Victoria wondered might be because of Iker. That might be the reason David had dragged his friend along, because Iker could calm him.
Still, there's this universal rule that everyone quite accepted that when you asked someone out on a date, it should involve only two or at least people in even numbers, not three like this. She felt like being the third wheel here instead of the Spaniard. But she didn't want to ruin the day though she'd been in a bad mood so far.
It went good for David but Iker knew Victoria didn't like his presence a bit, one could tell from the permanent grimace on her pretty face. But that wasn't his concern as long as his friend was happy, which apparently he was.
After strolling around the mall until late afternoon, Victoria said she needed to be home for dinner with a look at David promising that they would have a word about this later with the English boy's obvious oblivion. So Iker knew it's definitely not his place to tell when David joyfully slung his arm around the Spaniard shoulder's and said, "this is so fun! You'll have to come with us again next time."
This was so not fun that he's sure as hell Victoria might slip poison in his drink the very next time.
***
"Morning."
"Morning," Xabi smiled sincerely at Mikel. It's a bright Tuesday morning though the cool wind still shook him slightly. Mikel just arrived at Xabi's house to pick him up to school. Xabi had never been pampered by anyone before so he felt a bit weird.
"Err, have you have breakfast yet? Would you like to have something to eat?" He didn't even know what he had in the fridge, might be a bottle of milk or some sandwiches. He normally didn't have breakfast, and since the mysterious bag had ceased appearing at his locker every morning, he hadn't had it anymore.
To be honest, he missed it a bit.
He'd never talked about this to Mikel, either the breakfasts or the messages, and as time passed Xabi started to think that he'd figured it out all wrong. But then he'd already decided that he'd be together with Mikel, so he'd give it a try anyway.
"I already have it at home," Mikel said, smiling. "Have you? I can wait if you haven't, we still have time."
"Right." His stomach protested on the mention of food, the esoteric plastic bag had made itself quite a habit in Xabi's life already. Letting Mikel in, he walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He found only fruits that could make do at this minute so he snatched a banana into his bag.
"You should've proper breakfast, you know?" Mikel started when they walked out of the house together. "Actually you can come have it at my house every morning if you want, my mom cooks."
"I'll think about it," Xabi said just to drop the subject.
At lunch break, Mikel also picked him up at his classroom to have lunch, with Mikel's friends or Xabi's friends or alone together. They talked about everything may it be food, weather, news, history, yet their favourite subjects were football and physics.
Mikel wasn't bad at science, he's quite genius at it actually. He applied to Faculty of Physics in many famous universities for further education and Xabi, ecstatic when discovering this, thought that was enough. That's what he wanted, wasn't it? Someone who could share his thought, participate in his passion, have something - especially forte in science - in common, the like-mind ones. On this level of knowledge, sometimes Xabi thought Mikel was Mr. Anonymous after all, it's just that he didn't want to disclose himself. Though as time passed, days into weeks, the thought of Mr. X was slowly fading away and Xabi started to think that it didn't matter after all whether Mikel was the one who sent him the messages or not because Mikel had the trait he's looking for anyway.
After some time, they became an item at school. Xabi's friends: Pepe Reina and Luis Garcia, teased him at first, but soon they got used to it and accepted Mikel into their circle quite easily. The same went to the English Phil Jagielka, the Dutch John Heitinga, and the Belgian Marouane Fellaini, how international, who were Mikel's chums.
As class ended every day, Mikel would wait for him out the door and they'd walk to Xabi's home together, some days they dropped by a restaurant for dinner, sometimes Mikel treated but most times they shared because Xabi thought Mikel shouldn't be the one who always paid. With these steps they're slowly taking together, Xabi was quite happy about it.
One day when they arrived at Xabi's home, Xabi turned around. "Good night and thank you for today." It's the same sentence he'd said every day that they'd spent together for about two weeks now. He's about to turn and get into the house when Mikel called,
"Xabi."
Before he knew it, Xabi was pulled close to the other Spaniard, Mikel's lips on his.
Finally. Xabi thought and closed his eyes.
He didn't feel butterflies in his stomach like the cheap romance novels always depicted, though.
***
It's Sunday.
Fernando had been trying, not that desperately, to strum through 'Hello' with his delicate fingers - as Agger had mildly put it - for so many nights in a row. Agger hadn't asked where he'd been practicing and how his practice was going, actually he only kept on absorbing in his own heavy metal performance until Fernando thought that the Dane had forgotten about him and his assignment altogether. But Fernando would not let anyone, especially himself, disappointed otherwise, so he practiced and practiced. He hauled Agger's Spanish guitar everywhere since Agger didn't seem to mind, to school so that on breaks or after classes, he could look at the sheet printed out from the Internet and strum while trying to recall the correct notes and the way to lie his fingers on the strings at each time. And when he was home - 'Agger's home,' actually - after dinner, he would occupy the living room if everyone decided to go up to their rooms early, or even the chilly porch if someone decided to stay down and watched the telly, until very late at night.
To say his perseverance had not paid off as he'd wished would be an understatement.
And so he was a bit surprised when he went up to Agger's room late after dinner and found the Dane sitting in his couch, waiting.
"Are you ready?" Agger asked as soon as Fernando shut the door behind then grinned like a wolf who had caught his prey. The Spaniard swallowed hard.
"I thought you had already forgot about this," he mumbled, shambled his way despondently to their bunk bed.
"Oh, how could I? With you lugging my precious around the town like that. Have you been taking noble care of it? Because if not-"
"Oh, please. Not even a scratch." Fernando rolled his eyes.
"Is that so?" Agger smirked lightheartedly, steepling his fingers together. "The floor is yours then."
Fernando swallowed again.
Sitting down on his bed, he put the guitar on it, too, unzipped its case and pulled it out. Agger was sitting very quietly, keeping eyes on the Spaniard. Fernando put the guitar in his lap, both hands at their ready positions: one holding the pick while the other holding its neck with his middle finger on the tight string ready to strike the first note. He hesitated before looking up uncertainly.
"Listen, this is my first-"
"For Christ's sake. Just shut up and do it, Torres," Agger snarled.
The Spaniard bit his lip, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply then started.
He played, and the world around him fell silent saved only for the melody he created. Agger's jaw dropped, he stared at Fernando disbelievingly because the Spaniard was playing it solo, unexpectedly. The tabs shifted fast but he's just a beginner after all so he's going rather slow though trying to stick to the correct rhythm as much as possible.
That's the Intro, then Verse 1 and then 2.
Sometimes in between, Fernando hummed along, it made him recall easier which note was next. He's nervous though acting otherwise, sweats even trickled down his forehead. But it's not that difficult, really, just similar to playing piano. Though the chords were another matter, they're not quite easy to remember, those would sure take time. At this point, this is easier than chords in his opinion, still he'd hit the notes wrong innumerable times already. Fernando kept his eyes on his hand, but even without looking up, he could feel Agger's gaze, not on his either hand on the Spanish guitar, but on his face.
The Spaniard started the Chorus self-consciously.
Agger leaned closer on the couch, watching Fernando intently. Like he's hypnotized by the Spaniard's lips, he caught on the rhythm and suddenly sang along the phrase,
"...Tell me how to win your heart for I haven't got a clue...,"
Fernando looked up in surprise, stopped humming all of a sudden. They stared at each other. Still, Agger continued whispering,
"...But let me start by saying..."
Then, like the past ten seconds was just a fraction of dream, he let the Spaniard finish that sentence with the Spanish guitar, alone.
Averting his eyes back to his hand, Fernando felt his cheeks heat up a bit, maybe because it's hot in here, like how his sweats were rolling down his temples. He didn't dare looking up again though he knew by every second that the intent gaze was still there. Finally he finished the song and they sat still for a while. The Dane looked at the Spaniard while the Spaniard looked at the floor, silence fell all around them.
He felt like Agger would say something like, 'where the hell did you get the tab?' or even 'Jesus, how the fuck could you do that?' Instead, when he eventually spoke up, he said, "come here."
The Spaniard looked up, confused. "What?"
"I said come here," Agger repeated calmly and patted the vacant space next to him on the couch. The Spaniard hesitated a bit then got up off the bed and walked to the Dane. He sat down and Agger suddenly scooted closer and put an arm around Fernando's back, the other laid on the Spaniard's hand which was holding the pick. Fernando stiffened immediately. "You're doing some of it wrong." Agger's soft voice was near his ear. His other hand with its arm behind Fernando's back caught the Spaniard's hand which was holding the guitar's neck softly. "In Verse 2, as the song says, 'and tell you time and time again how much I care’. At 'how much I care,' you should do it like this. It should be a bit different from the same part in Verse 1." He put his fingers on the correct positions one at a time while his other hand forced Fernando's hand to strum the pick on the right string. "See? Now do it on your own.”
"Okay," Whispering back, Fernando copied the Dane's doing with his heart beating fast. He had to repeat it a couple of times before he could put it correctly, with Agger's hand hovering near adjusting his fingers’ positions at times. He's feeling a bit dazed being in a boy's arms, with a boy's hands on his forcing them to hold and strum the guitar.
"That seems okay. Now there's this part..." And he perfectly played the difficult part between the first and the last choruses, which was fucking hard yet the Dane mastered it like it’s a piece of cake. He told Fernando to do it after he'd demonstrated. "Hold it tightly, Torres." Agger looked up from the guitar and their hands. His brows furrowed a bit, his left hand still on Fernando's but he didn't put any pressure on. Now the music seemed a bit out of tune because the Spaniard hadn't been paying much attention to the strings, but instead, the hand on him.
"Sorry," Fernando murmured, his face reddened when he realized where his thought had astrayed to. He tried to shift his focus back to the guitar and Agger calmly approved.
"There, like that," he said. "You need more practices so you can memorize them in your instinct. Your fingers need to move to the positions of correct tabs or chords automatically once you see the notes. You'll find that the difficult part for you might be to remember the chords since they're a bit different to piano chords...," and he blabbered on and on, his hands still on Fernando. No praise left his lips once but all his actions had spoken louder enough. The Spaniard tried to focus as much as he could, but then he's still dizzy from Agger's tenderness. It was wrong somehow: he in Agger's arms, in Agger's room, Agger's house. They weren't even friends. He wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. This whole situation, it's all wrong.
But then right now, why does it feel so right...to be so wrong?
To be continued in Chapter 6.
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