The $64,000 Conundrum: Chapter 6
Title: The $64,000 Conundrum: Chapter 6
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: 3,218 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, 5
The $64,000 Conundrum
Chapter 6
He'd never known it would be like this.
The idea of having a lover had crossed his mind sometimes but Xabi had never thought of really having one. Every day he woke up, went to school and studied hard, then went home and studied more.
He'd never known it would be like this.
It sounded nice, the concept of having someone by your side most of the time, the feeling that you could rely on someone, that that particular someone would never leave you alone no matter what, he'd care for you, cherish you, even die for you, Xabi knew Mikel would do as much as that.
Is this the thing everyone called 'love'? Is only this enough? Someone says for the one he loves, he would do anything and wouldn't need anything else, he will cross the ocean, bring the moon. Love created the universe and could destroy the world, and someone would rather die without love.
Because love’s worth that much.
Then why does he still feel like there's something missing in his life, something he doesn't even know what it is?
It'd been three weeks since they're together. Being with Mikel was his habit now, they're together most of the time outside classes at school and no one looked at them twice, Mikel wasn't tiny, as well as Xabi, yet Mikel still treated him chivalrously until sometimes Xabi was genuinely mortified.
They're at Mikel's house, having dinner on a Saturday's night. Mikel's family was all there and Xabi sat beside the Basque. Though Xabi ate primly and conversed with others at the table with all the manners he got and they didn't intentionally touch or do anything intimate in front of all the Artetas, the look Amya, Mikel's sister, gave them was all-knowing, maybe the look in Mikel's eyes when he regarded Xabi gave it away. He's always like that, all infatuated and such until sometimes Xabi couldn't bring himself to look him in the eyes, because he's either shy, or scared.
Yes, he's scared, because the thing in the depth of Mikel's dark charming eyes, whatever it was, wasn't something Xabi had. Yes, he didn't yet know what it was, but what he knew better than any knowledge in this universe, was himself, and he knew when he had something, or hadn't.
His mobile rang once and Xabi fished it out instinctively. He opened the incoming message and his eyes went wide with the mix of so many feelings at the same time: disbelief, confusion, anger.
It's from that number, the number that hadn't texted him for a month, the number that even after a year of its absence, Xabi was certain he would still remember clearly in his mind.
The text was very simple, it read,
'Hello, Xabi, how r u?'
***
Two weeks had passed and Arsenal didn't die from heartbreak.
He's crestfallen on the first week, and was even more despondent on the second, he ate less and stopped playing, running, or even barking, just kept on sleeping the days away. Cesc didn't know what to do about it, he didn't want to talk to Gerard, and if he had to beg, the first thing out of his lips wouldn’t definitely be something about Chihuahuas.
Eventually, on the next Saturday, Gerard walked in with Bazooka in tow. Arsenal who'd been sleeping on the carpet in front of the telly had perked his ears up even before both Gerard and Bazooka walked past the door. When he eventually had them in his line of sight, he looked skeptically like he didn't believe his own eyes and reckoned the other puppy might simply be his illusion. Until Bazooka barked once, sending Arsenal bolt upright, then Bazooka cautiously scampered to his mate, tail wagging friendly and ears perking up. They approached one another with the sniffing routine like in new meetings, and when they're sure the other was their old mates who'd been separated for so long, Arsenal licked the other puppy's face and Bazooka kept nuzzling against the smaller and though they're not as gleeful as before, they're typically glued together since.
Cesc saw sad relief in Arsenal's eyes and it wrenched his heart a bit.
Gerard regarded them interestedly.
It'd been a week since Gerard dated Lionel. Playing football three times a week and being all together on the pitch, Cesc could clearly see the two’s closeness which was getting cozier every passing day. And when Gerard usually met up with Cesc after football, after school or any free time at all, now he just disappeared to only God knew where. When others asked where Gerard had gone, Cesc just shrugged, he didn't know and didn't wanna know.
Gerard talked about Lionel, but not much, and when he did talk, he looked very happy with what's going on. Cesc had never thought of himself as an altruistic type, yet he tried to tell himself that if Gerard's happy, he should be happy for Gerard, too.
It broke his heart, just a bit, he's sure he could handle it, no big deal.
And now Gerard walked to him, slouched in the couch beside him casually. "They don't forget each other," he mused, looking at the two puppies snuggling up against one another.
"Of course, they don't," Cesc replied, bit his tongue before saying that it's only two weeks anyway lest Gerard would think of disassociating them further.
"But they look awkward around each other, though, I bet they're asking one another via gesture where the hell the other had been."
"I wish they could give the reason why the other doesn't drop by as frequent as before." Cesc bit his lip, he's so egocentric that even when defending a puppy, he thought of himself instead.
How pathetic.
"We still see each other at least three days a week," Gerard said calmly. Cesc startled.
"What?"
"You asked why I didn't drop by as frequent as before, you know the reason, Cesc, and I think three days a week is pretty okay."
"We were talking about the Chihuahuas, weren't we?" Cesc raised his eyebrow though his heart was hammering inside.
"No, you were talking about us." Gerard got up off the couch and paced around the living room. "We're still friends, you know that, right Cesc? Even though I mightn’t see you as often as before, you remember when I told you just a couple of weeks ago that I don't think I can live without you? So that's that, I'll not live without you."
Cesc was befuddled. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I know you feel betrayed like I've left you behind, but it doesn't matter that I'm with Lionel or anyone, we'll still be friends, like, forever, you know that, right?"
Of course, I know that, things would never change, I would forever be your friend, would never become your lover or anything else.
"I know," Cesc answered with dry lips.
But things changed, and Cesc hated it very much.
They still met three days a week like Gerard had affirmed: on the pitch on Monday, Wednesday and Friday for football. But every time, Lionel was there, and though the tiny boy had always given them some spaces and knew better than to stick around when moody Cesc was there, Cesc still felt like being a third wheel. And though Gerard still dropped by on either Saturday or Sunday, not both like before, Cesc still felt painfully hollow inside, like someone had slowly and torturously ripped his heart out. Cesc hated taking buses and walking home alone, hated dinner without Gerard on Friday's night, hated being home with only Arsenal and not Bazooka and his owner and watched his Chihuahua being miserable for not meeting his mate just like himself. What he hated the most, though, was that he's feeling like going insane because of unrequited love.
And now he hated sitting here alone in the park, Arsenal lying by his feet, didn't feel like running or barking about either.
Cesc's staring at nothingness beyond the trees when a shadow lay upon him.
"Can I sit here?"
The voice wasn't familiar yet Cesc still found his heart beating fiercely. He turned around, to find a tall boy with dark hair but unfamiliar face. He had a leash in his hand and his Pug puppy was having so much interest in Arsenal by sniffing intently while Arsenal, very surprisingly, wagged his tail and sniffed back. Cesc quirked his brow. "Sure."
Sitting down beside him, the boy looked at their puppies, amused. "How old is he?" He asked.
"Three months," Cesc answered dismissively.
"Do you live around here?"
"Yeah." He's still inert, but the boy's badgering questions started annoying him somewhat.
"I live at Calle Braille,” the boy said, obviously oblivious to Cesc's irritation. "I'm Robin. Robin Van Persie," he smiled. "What's your name?"
***
Like he'd expected, Victoria wasn't happy about their last date. She told David that if he still wanted to bring Iker, he might as well date the Spaniard.
She had a point.
So when Victoria wanted to have dinner on a Wednesday's evening, David went alone.
Iker dallied with Álvaro Arbeloa, Francisco Pavon and Zinedine Zidane: three of his other close friends, before going home and doing his homework, helping his mum prepare dinner and after the whole family had finished, helped her wash the dishes then got up to his room to play games.
That's when the doorbell rang.
He hadn't paid any attention to it until there came knocks on his bedroom door. Iker quirked his brow. "Iker, David's downstairs," his mother's voice was heard through the door.
Iker's eyes widen. David? At....he glanced at the alarm clock on his headboard, 10 p.m., this time of night? The first awful thought that came to his mind was that something terrible might have happened.
Springing off his chair, he opened the door and sprinted down the stairs. The Londoner sat solemnly in a couch in the living room. "David," Iker greeted uncertainly.
"Iker." The English stood up. "I thought I'd just drop by before I get home."
"What happen?" Iker wasn't even sure he wanted to hear this.
"Can we go to your room?" There's pleading in his voice.
"Err, 'course." The Spaniard nodded and led them up the stairs.
Once Iker shut his bedroom door behind them, David blurted out, "I can't do this."
Iker raised his brow. "Do what?"
"This." David waved his hand at nothing in particular. "The date, I can't do it without you."
The Spaniard stared. "Why not?"
David slumped down on the foot of Iker's bed. "I don't know." He put his head in his hands, looking thoroughly desperate. "I like her, you know that, right? And I just couldn't be composed in front of her, not without you around. She noticed this, too, and asked what the fuck was wrong with me and why I didn't seem as happy as the last time we three went out together. She seemed furious when I told her that it would be better if you were there."
Iker snorted. "Serve you right. She must be hurt. Is she angry with you still?"
"Yes, she didn't say it out loud, but every word she said after that was curt, that means she's angry, right?"
"Had no better meaning," the Spaniard said. "Do you want something to drink? If you plan to stay long, anyway." He quirked his brow questioningly.
"Yeah, just water please, thank you," the Londoner murmured.
Iker went down to the kitchen and fetched two glasses of water. When he's back, David was wallowing in bed playing his mobile phone. "Get up, you fool." The Spaniard swatted the English boy's thigh, David sat up straight and Iker sat down beside him, handing him a glass of water.
"Thanks, mate." Taking the glass, the British gulped down loads. When he finally looked calmer, he asked, "what should we do?"
Iker startled. "We?" He paused. "You mean you and Victoria, right?"
"No, I mean you and me," David said hoarsely. "We have to do something about this."
"Me?" Iker straightened up. "Why should I do anything about it? It's your date, your relationship, your-"
Iker's voice was immediately cut off because David's lips had shut him up: the always-successful method.
Iker's stunned. The Londoner's lips were warm, tasted a bit like paprika and onion mixed together, must be from his dinner date. And when they moved against the Spaniard's lips, chills ran down Iker's spine and hazy images of that night they slept together screamed through his mind, tempted and aroused him enough that he grabbed David's shoulders, held him down on top of him and kissed back madly.
Two glasses of water that tumbled off their hands, wet the cover and landed ungainly on the carpeted floor couldn't startle him out of daze, nothing could.
He's so screwed.
***
Daniel didn't ask him to return his Spanish guitar so Fernando took it that he's free to use it when he liked to.
But that didn't mean they're on better terms, Agger's still his unbearable self, he blasted their bedroom with vehement performance every night. If Fernando wanted to do his homework or practice his new instrument, he'd have to do them downstairs. But then the Spaniard preferred staying upstairs ogling Agger.
It quite annoyed the Dane, though.
At school, they're still hostile towards one another. All of their friends didn't know about their roommating and Agger seemed satisfied to keep it that way. When his friends bullied Fernando from time to time out of boredom, the Dane would step away, didn't be a part of it yet didn't help him either.
Some days they went home together, just to shut up Mrs. Agger. But mostly Agger would have some other plans and came home only in time for dinner, and some days not, until Fernando started wondering where he had been.
One day, Agger came up to his room late after dinner time, the Spaniard's already there strumming through his new-picked song. "Hey," the Dane greeted, sitting in the couch across from their bunk bed and put his bag aside. "Show me what you've got."
That came out of nowhere, really. Fernando blinked. "What?"
Agger rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Show me what you've learnt so far, what song are you practicing just a minute ago?"
"Me?" The Spaniard was still dumbfounded.
"Yes, you. Whom the hell do you think I'm talking to?!" The Dane was irritated.
Fernando caressed the guitar in his arms anxiously. "But it's-"
"Torres," Agger scowled. "I asked you to play, that means I don't wanna hear your voice, so just shut up and do what I asked."
The Spaniard wrinkled his nose, and with Agger's coercion and his disinclination, he solo played the song he'd been practicing after 'Hello'. He'd liked this song for ages but really didn't want to play it in front of Agger. It's kinda..., he had to admit it, gay.
He held Agger's Spanish guitar in his lap and played the song: Toni Braxton's 'Spanish Guitar'.
Hell, he could even tell from Agger's smirk what he'd have to face afterwards.
Fernando hadn't mastered it yet, but he could strum through the song without too many mistakes. His face heated up when he thought about the lyrics, it's quite embarrassing, especially the Chorus, that was a bit too true to admit even to himself...
When the song ended, the Dane sneered, "queer."
"Fuckwit," the Spaniard retaliated immediately. Agger smiled but didn't refute anything further. When the silence was a bit uncomfortable, Fernando asked, "umm, what do you think?"
"Hmm," the Dane mused. "About you? Fine."
Fernando blushed, trying not to think what the answer could imply. "I've never heard you play a slow song," he said. "Care to show some?"
Agger slouched in the couch. "What do you want to hear?"
"Anything," Fernando answered too fast.
The Dane frowned like he's actually thinking hard for a while, then smirked. He got up to snatch the Spanish guitar from the Spaniard's lap then strode two strides back to the couch. "Let's hear this." He strummed. Fernando frowned, sitting still to listen for a time before he could eventually catch the rhythm.
It's John Legend's 'Tonight'.
He didn't sing, nor did Fernando. But he stood up when the Chorus came, through the strings, the song said,
'Baby, tonight's the night I let you know,
Baby, tonight's the night we lose control...,"
Shit, he didn't know why his heart was beating this fast. It's just a song Agger chose, without singing even. The lyrics were on his mind, and what he thought they might imply was just his lone delusion. Yet the smirk on the Dane's face when he played the notes, 'I don't wanna brag, but I'll be best you've ever had', was so obvious it turned his stomach upside down.
"End." Agger finished the song with a flourish. The Spaniard clapped dully.
"Lay it on thick," he murmured.
"Why do you think that?" The Dane raised his brow, feigning asking out of curiosity. "Do you want a proof?"
"Oh, fuck off, Agger!" Fernando threw a pillow at the other boy, it almost hit him in the face but the Dane's quick reflex caught it. He snarled,
"You want this, Torres?" And without waiting for a reply, he leapt at the Spaniard.
The jump came a bit unexpected and the Dane sent him splay out on his back on the bed. Fernando gaped but didn't have enough time to realize what actually had just happened when Agger pushed the pillow down on his face like to put him out of breath. Fernando fought back, pushing and kicking and the Danish boy laughed joyously. Straddling the Spaniard, he’s exuding his weight on Fernando's waist and the Spaniard had just realized the acute disparity in their masses despite the similarity in size.
Agger's much stronger.
"Let me go!" Fernando muffledly screamed, and the Dane just laughed and laughed. The Spaniard gritted his teeth, congregated all his might and flipped Agger over. Unpredictably he succeeded, and the Dane was trapped under him with the unexpected turn of events, the problematic pillow bounced off somewhere. Agger blinked up at him bewilderedly and Fernando cursed under his breath for the distance between their noses, or the lack there of.
He also felt the Dane's breathlessness from under him, and maybe the quick rhythm of heart races. Staring at one another in shock stillness, they're so close until Fernando could feel Agger's slow breaths on his lips and he well realized that if he could feel them, the Dane could have felt his, too.
In his head, there's only one word, 'shit'.
Then his mobile rang.
It brought Fernando's mind back to the world, and it required quite a couple of seconds to get rid of the daze until he recalled where he'd left it. It's in his bag, so the Spaniard shifted to get up off Agger. Then something caught the back of his neck: a callous hand, and a husky voice whispered, "Fernando," before he's pulled back and something wet crushed his lips: a pair of the same thing.
There's still one word in his head and it's capitalized now.
SHIT.
To be continued in Chapter 7.
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: 3,218 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, 5
The $64,000 Conundrum
Chapter 6
He'd never known it would be like this.
The idea of having a lover had crossed his mind sometimes but Xabi had never thought of really having one. Every day he woke up, went to school and studied hard, then went home and studied more.
He'd never known it would be like this.
It sounded nice, the concept of having someone by your side most of the time, the feeling that you could rely on someone, that that particular someone would never leave you alone no matter what, he'd care for you, cherish you, even die for you, Xabi knew Mikel would do as much as that.
Is this the thing everyone called 'love'? Is only this enough? Someone says for the one he loves, he would do anything and wouldn't need anything else, he will cross the ocean, bring the moon. Love created the universe and could destroy the world, and someone would rather die without love.
Because love’s worth that much.
Then why does he still feel like there's something missing in his life, something he doesn't even know what it is?
It'd been three weeks since they're together. Being with Mikel was his habit now, they're together most of the time outside classes at school and no one looked at them twice, Mikel wasn't tiny, as well as Xabi, yet Mikel still treated him chivalrously until sometimes Xabi was genuinely mortified.
They're at Mikel's house, having dinner on a Saturday's night. Mikel's family was all there and Xabi sat beside the Basque. Though Xabi ate primly and conversed with others at the table with all the manners he got and they didn't intentionally touch or do anything intimate in front of all the Artetas, the look Amya, Mikel's sister, gave them was all-knowing, maybe the look in Mikel's eyes when he regarded Xabi gave it away. He's always like that, all infatuated and such until sometimes Xabi couldn't bring himself to look him in the eyes, because he's either shy, or scared.
Yes, he's scared, because the thing in the depth of Mikel's dark charming eyes, whatever it was, wasn't something Xabi had. Yes, he didn't yet know what it was, but what he knew better than any knowledge in this universe, was himself, and he knew when he had something, or hadn't.
His mobile rang once and Xabi fished it out instinctively. He opened the incoming message and his eyes went wide with the mix of so many feelings at the same time: disbelief, confusion, anger.
It's from that number, the number that hadn't texted him for a month, the number that even after a year of its absence, Xabi was certain he would still remember clearly in his mind.
The text was very simple, it read,
'Hello, Xabi, how r u?'
***
Two weeks had passed and Arsenal didn't die from heartbreak.
He's crestfallen on the first week, and was even more despondent on the second, he ate less and stopped playing, running, or even barking, just kept on sleeping the days away. Cesc didn't know what to do about it, he didn't want to talk to Gerard, and if he had to beg, the first thing out of his lips wouldn’t definitely be something about Chihuahuas.
Eventually, on the next Saturday, Gerard walked in with Bazooka in tow. Arsenal who'd been sleeping on the carpet in front of the telly had perked his ears up even before both Gerard and Bazooka walked past the door. When he eventually had them in his line of sight, he looked skeptically like he didn't believe his own eyes and reckoned the other puppy might simply be his illusion. Until Bazooka barked once, sending Arsenal bolt upright, then Bazooka cautiously scampered to his mate, tail wagging friendly and ears perking up. They approached one another with the sniffing routine like in new meetings, and when they're sure the other was their old mates who'd been separated for so long, Arsenal licked the other puppy's face and Bazooka kept nuzzling against the smaller and though they're not as gleeful as before, they're typically glued together since.
Cesc saw sad relief in Arsenal's eyes and it wrenched his heart a bit.
Gerard regarded them interestedly.
It'd been a week since Gerard dated Lionel. Playing football three times a week and being all together on the pitch, Cesc could clearly see the two’s closeness which was getting cozier every passing day. And when Gerard usually met up with Cesc after football, after school or any free time at all, now he just disappeared to only God knew where. When others asked where Gerard had gone, Cesc just shrugged, he didn't know and didn't wanna know.
Gerard talked about Lionel, but not much, and when he did talk, he looked very happy with what's going on. Cesc had never thought of himself as an altruistic type, yet he tried to tell himself that if Gerard's happy, he should be happy for Gerard, too.
It broke his heart, just a bit, he's sure he could handle it, no big deal.
And now Gerard walked to him, slouched in the couch beside him casually. "They don't forget each other," he mused, looking at the two puppies snuggling up against one another.
"Of course, they don't," Cesc replied, bit his tongue before saying that it's only two weeks anyway lest Gerard would think of disassociating them further.
"But they look awkward around each other, though, I bet they're asking one another via gesture where the hell the other had been."
"I wish they could give the reason why the other doesn't drop by as frequent as before." Cesc bit his lip, he's so egocentric that even when defending a puppy, he thought of himself instead.
How pathetic.
"We still see each other at least three days a week," Gerard said calmly. Cesc startled.
"What?"
"You asked why I didn't drop by as frequent as before, you know the reason, Cesc, and I think three days a week is pretty okay."
"We were talking about the Chihuahuas, weren't we?" Cesc raised his eyebrow though his heart was hammering inside.
"No, you were talking about us." Gerard got up off the couch and paced around the living room. "We're still friends, you know that, right Cesc? Even though I mightn’t see you as often as before, you remember when I told you just a couple of weeks ago that I don't think I can live without you? So that's that, I'll not live without you."
Cesc was befuddled. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I know you feel betrayed like I've left you behind, but it doesn't matter that I'm with Lionel or anyone, we'll still be friends, like, forever, you know that, right?"
Of course, I know that, things would never change, I would forever be your friend, would never become your lover or anything else.
"I know," Cesc answered with dry lips.
But things changed, and Cesc hated it very much.
They still met three days a week like Gerard had affirmed: on the pitch on Monday, Wednesday and Friday for football. But every time, Lionel was there, and though the tiny boy had always given them some spaces and knew better than to stick around when moody Cesc was there, Cesc still felt like being a third wheel. And though Gerard still dropped by on either Saturday or Sunday, not both like before, Cesc still felt painfully hollow inside, like someone had slowly and torturously ripped his heart out. Cesc hated taking buses and walking home alone, hated dinner without Gerard on Friday's night, hated being home with only Arsenal and not Bazooka and his owner and watched his Chihuahua being miserable for not meeting his mate just like himself. What he hated the most, though, was that he's feeling like going insane because of unrequited love.
And now he hated sitting here alone in the park, Arsenal lying by his feet, didn't feel like running or barking about either.
Cesc's staring at nothingness beyond the trees when a shadow lay upon him.
"Can I sit here?"
The voice wasn't familiar yet Cesc still found his heart beating fiercely. He turned around, to find a tall boy with dark hair but unfamiliar face. He had a leash in his hand and his Pug puppy was having so much interest in Arsenal by sniffing intently while Arsenal, very surprisingly, wagged his tail and sniffed back. Cesc quirked his brow. "Sure."
Sitting down beside him, the boy looked at their puppies, amused. "How old is he?" He asked.
"Three months," Cesc answered dismissively.
"Do you live around here?"
"Yeah." He's still inert, but the boy's badgering questions started annoying him somewhat.
"I live at Calle Braille,” the boy said, obviously oblivious to Cesc's irritation. "I'm Robin. Robin Van Persie," he smiled. "What's your name?"
***
Like he'd expected, Victoria wasn't happy about their last date. She told David that if he still wanted to bring Iker, he might as well date the Spaniard.
She had a point.
So when Victoria wanted to have dinner on a Wednesday's evening, David went alone.
Iker dallied with Álvaro Arbeloa, Francisco Pavon and Zinedine Zidane: three of his other close friends, before going home and doing his homework, helping his mum prepare dinner and after the whole family had finished, helped her wash the dishes then got up to his room to play games.
That's when the doorbell rang.
He hadn't paid any attention to it until there came knocks on his bedroom door. Iker quirked his brow. "Iker, David's downstairs," his mother's voice was heard through the door.
Iker's eyes widen. David? At....he glanced at the alarm clock on his headboard, 10 p.m., this time of night? The first awful thought that came to his mind was that something terrible might have happened.
Springing off his chair, he opened the door and sprinted down the stairs. The Londoner sat solemnly in a couch in the living room. "David," Iker greeted uncertainly.
"Iker." The English stood up. "I thought I'd just drop by before I get home."
"What happen?" Iker wasn't even sure he wanted to hear this.
"Can we go to your room?" There's pleading in his voice.
"Err, 'course." The Spaniard nodded and led them up the stairs.
Once Iker shut his bedroom door behind them, David blurted out, "I can't do this."
Iker raised his brow. "Do what?"
"This." David waved his hand at nothing in particular. "The date, I can't do it without you."
The Spaniard stared. "Why not?"
David slumped down on the foot of Iker's bed. "I don't know." He put his head in his hands, looking thoroughly desperate. "I like her, you know that, right? And I just couldn't be composed in front of her, not without you around. She noticed this, too, and asked what the fuck was wrong with me and why I didn't seem as happy as the last time we three went out together. She seemed furious when I told her that it would be better if you were there."
Iker snorted. "Serve you right. She must be hurt. Is she angry with you still?"
"Yes, she didn't say it out loud, but every word she said after that was curt, that means she's angry, right?"
"Had no better meaning," the Spaniard said. "Do you want something to drink? If you plan to stay long, anyway." He quirked his brow questioningly.
"Yeah, just water please, thank you," the Londoner murmured.
Iker went down to the kitchen and fetched two glasses of water. When he's back, David was wallowing in bed playing his mobile phone. "Get up, you fool." The Spaniard swatted the English boy's thigh, David sat up straight and Iker sat down beside him, handing him a glass of water.
"Thanks, mate." Taking the glass, the British gulped down loads. When he finally looked calmer, he asked, "what should we do?"
Iker startled. "We?" He paused. "You mean you and Victoria, right?"
"No, I mean you and me," David said hoarsely. "We have to do something about this."
"Me?" Iker straightened up. "Why should I do anything about it? It's your date, your relationship, your-"
Iker's voice was immediately cut off because David's lips had shut him up: the always-successful method.
Iker's stunned. The Londoner's lips were warm, tasted a bit like paprika and onion mixed together, must be from his dinner date. And when they moved against the Spaniard's lips, chills ran down Iker's spine and hazy images of that night they slept together screamed through his mind, tempted and aroused him enough that he grabbed David's shoulders, held him down on top of him and kissed back madly.
Two glasses of water that tumbled off their hands, wet the cover and landed ungainly on the carpeted floor couldn't startle him out of daze, nothing could.
He's so screwed.
***
Daniel didn't ask him to return his Spanish guitar so Fernando took it that he's free to use it when he liked to.
But that didn't mean they're on better terms, Agger's still his unbearable self, he blasted their bedroom with vehement performance every night. If Fernando wanted to do his homework or practice his new instrument, he'd have to do them downstairs. But then the Spaniard preferred staying upstairs ogling Agger.
It quite annoyed the Dane, though.
At school, they're still hostile towards one another. All of their friends didn't know about their roommating and Agger seemed satisfied to keep it that way. When his friends bullied Fernando from time to time out of boredom, the Dane would step away, didn't be a part of it yet didn't help him either.
Some days they went home together, just to shut up Mrs. Agger. But mostly Agger would have some other plans and came home only in time for dinner, and some days not, until Fernando started wondering where he had been.
One day, Agger came up to his room late after dinner time, the Spaniard's already there strumming through his new-picked song. "Hey," the Dane greeted, sitting in the couch across from their bunk bed and put his bag aside. "Show me what you've got."
That came out of nowhere, really. Fernando blinked. "What?"
Agger rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Show me what you've learnt so far, what song are you practicing just a minute ago?"
"Me?" The Spaniard was still dumbfounded.
"Yes, you. Whom the hell do you think I'm talking to?!" The Dane was irritated.
Fernando caressed the guitar in his arms anxiously. "But it's-"
"Torres," Agger scowled. "I asked you to play, that means I don't wanna hear your voice, so just shut up and do what I asked."
The Spaniard wrinkled his nose, and with Agger's coercion and his disinclination, he solo played the song he'd been practicing after 'Hello'. He'd liked this song for ages but really didn't want to play it in front of Agger. It's kinda..., he had to admit it, gay.
He held Agger's Spanish guitar in his lap and played the song: Toni Braxton's 'Spanish Guitar'.
Hell, he could even tell from Agger's smirk what he'd have to face afterwards.
Fernando hadn't mastered it yet, but he could strum through the song without too many mistakes. His face heated up when he thought about the lyrics, it's quite embarrassing, especially the Chorus, that was a bit too true to admit even to himself...
When the song ended, the Dane sneered, "queer."
"Fuckwit," the Spaniard retaliated immediately. Agger smiled but didn't refute anything further. When the silence was a bit uncomfortable, Fernando asked, "umm, what do you think?"
"Hmm," the Dane mused. "About you? Fine."
Fernando blushed, trying not to think what the answer could imply. "I've never heard you play a slow song," he said. "Care to show some?"
Agger slouched in the couch. "What do you want to hear?"
"Anything," Fernando answered too fast.
The Dane frowned like he's actually thinking hard for a while, then smirked. He got up to snatch the Spanish guitar from the Spaniard's lap then strode two strides back to the couch. "Let's hear this." He strummed. Fernando frowned, sitting still to listen for a time before he could eventually catch the rhythm.
It's John Legend's 'Tonight'.
He didn't sing, nor did Fernando. But he stood up when the Chorus came, through the strings, the song said,
'Baby, tonight's the night I let you know,
Baby, tonight's the night we lose control...,"
Shit, he didn't know why his heart was beating this fast. It's just a song Agger chose, without singing even. The lyrics were on his mind, and what he thought they might imply was just his lone delusion. Yet the smirk on the Dane's face when he played the notes, 'I don't wanna brag, but I'll be best you've ever had', was so obvious it turned his stomach upside down.
"End." Agger finished the song with a flourish. The Spaniard clapped dully.
"Lay it on thick," he murmured.
"Why do you think that?" The Dane raised his brow, feigning asking out of curiosity. "Do you want a proof?"
"Oh, fuck off, Agger!" Fernando threw a pillow at the other boy, it almost hit him in the face but the Dane's quick reflex caught it. He snarled,
"You want this, Torres?" And without waiting for a reply, he leapt at the Spaniard.
The jump came a bit unexpected and the Dane sent him splay out on his back on the bed. Fernando gaped but didn't have enough time to realize what actually had just happened when Agger pushed the pillow down on his face like to put him out of breath. Fernando fought back, pushing and kicking and the Danish boy laughed joyously. Straddling the Spaniard, he’s exuding his weight on Fernando's waist and the Spaniard had just realized the acute disparity in their masses despite the similarity in size.
Agger's much stronger.
"Let me go!" Fernando muffledly screamed, and the Dane just laughed and laughed. The Spaniard gritted his teeth, congregated all his might and flipped Agger over. Unpredictably he succeeded, and the Dane was trapped under him with the unexpected turn of events, the problematic pillow bounced off somewhere. Agger blinked up at him bewilderedly and Fernando cursed under his breath for the distance between their noses, or the lack there of.
He also felt the Dane's breathlessness from under him, and maybe the quick rhythm of heart races. Staring at one another in shock stillness, they're so close until Fernando could feel Agger's slow breaths on his lips and he well realized that if he could feel them, the Dane could have felt his, too.
In his head, there's only one word, 'shit'.
Then his mobile rang.
It brought Fernando's mind back to the world, and it required quite a couple of seconds to get rid of the daze until he recalled where he'd left it. It's in his bag, so the Spaniard shifted to get up off Agger. Then something caught the back of his neck: a callous hand, and a husky voice whispered, "Fernando," before he's pulled back and something wet crushed his lips: a pair of the same thing.
There's still one word in his head and it's capitalized now.
SHIT.
To be continued in Chapter 7.
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