FIC: I've Seen You Walk Unafraid (Fabio/Cristiano)
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">The alarm goes off at exactly ass o’clock.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio peels his eyes open, his face smooshed into his pillow. He blinks heavily, trying to get his bearings. The covers are ripped away from him and he tries to curl his body as tightly as he can, drawing his legs up and trying to escape the cold and block out the light. He hears laughter somewhere off to his right and he twists his body to try and kick at it. The thud and “oof” he hears as his foot connects to bare ribs is somewhat satisfying.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">It’d be more satisfying if his morning tormentor hadn’t grabbed a hold of his foot, though. Because now he’s slowly being dragged off the bed. Fábio is blindly groping at the bedding, trying to grab hold of anything to delay the inevitable, but in about two seconds he’s on his back on the carpet with his foot still in the air.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Ok, ok,” Fábio groans. “I’m awake. I surrender.” He blinks his eyes open slowly, looking up at Cris’s smiling morning-face peering down at him. Cris doesn’t even have the decency to look a little groggy, the bastard.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Good morning, carinho. Always a ray of sunshine at these early hours,” Cris answers, his smile still clear even in his voice. He’s still got Fábio’s foot in his hands, now he’s rubbing his thumb over the insole, sweeping back and forth over the arch, watching his toes curl. Fábio jerks his foot out of his grip and rolls over with a groan, picking himself up off the floor and out of the pile of bedding. What a way to start a morning, seriously.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">And for god’s sake, the alarm is still going off.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Turn off the damn alarm Cris! It sounds like a fucking airstrike or something.” Not only does Cristiano enjoy waking up at 7:30, but he also enjoys waking up to the sounds of sirens. “Why can’t we wake up to something happy, like a song or the iPhone Marimba or something?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“I did used to wake up to happy alarms, you know,” Cris replies as he picks up the sheets from the floor and throws them back on the bed. “But then I started sleeping with this crazy guy who wakes up like he’s been in a coma and I knew those weren’t going to work.” He finally turns off the alarm and the room is thrown back into silence.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio scratches at his bare stomach, still only half-awake, not enough to form a reply. He walks over and just puts his hands on Cris’s shoulders, runs them up his neck and cups his face. Cris’s grin has softened, affection replacing mirth, and he lets Fábio tilt his head down and press a kiss to his lips. He kisses back, lips pressed closed and curled into a smile.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio pulls back. “And good morning to you too, Cris.” He drops a kiss onto the winger’s bare shoulder and ducks away into the bathroom, leaving the door open. The shower turns on and Cris gets an eyeful of naked Fábio getting ready for a shower.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He chuckles, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and taking them off. He tosses in them in the general direction of the hamper as he follows Fábio into the bathroom.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">What a way to start a morning, seriously.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Nobody really questioned it when Fábio started carpooling with Cristiano to practice. After all, the two were neighbors and knew each other from the national team. They spoke the same language, and it was easy to strike up a friendship. They were “close friends” and “neighbors” and that’s about as much as anyone in Madrid knew about them. (Except Pepe. Pepe’s known Cris for way too long for there to be secrets between them. Marcelo and Kaká know about them too, but if anyone knows anything, it’s Pepe.)
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">The guys tease Fábio for carpooling sometimes. On his salary, he should be able to afford the gas, right? The thirty minute drive is not going to break the bank. And it’s not like he comes early so he can get extra training hours or something. When the rest of the team arrives, they usually find Cris running wind sprints or doing footwork drills while Fábio sunbathes on the pitch or sits on the bleachers listening to music.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio ducks his head with a shy smile and mumbles something in reply about Lamborghinis or about his broken alarm clock.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">It’s not like he can say that the only reason he comes to practice so early is because it gives him a chance to wake up next to Cris each morning.
Batang;mso-fareast-language:KO">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">After practice, the team cleans up and heads to the Bernabéu. It’s the day before the last practice of the preseason, and they play Valencia on Sunday. The staff has organized a lunch for the first team, trainers, and managers. It’s a way to say goodbye to the offseason and celebrate before they get into the weekly grind of matches and training sessions.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">The restaurant is up in Puerta 57, fittingly overlooking the pitch they’ll be playing on this weekend. It’s a casual lunch and the seating is open, so naturally everyone gravitates to sit with their friends. The Spanish national team sits together, as do the Portuguese and Brazilians, and the French and Germans. Mourinho and the trainers are at the table with management. Even though it’s a lunch meant for the team, members of the Real Madrid press team are in attendance, cameras clicking away and audio recorders in hand, ready to capture each usable sound bite.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Cris has Marcelo to his right and Fábio to his left with Pepe and Kaká across from him. They’re digging into some delicious surf n turf, steak and lobster and with a plate of mixed tapas in the middle. There’s no alcohol being served except for wine (because, for god’s sake, the pictures have to be publishable) but it’s almost like the atmosphere doesn’t even need it, everyone laughing and talking, players craning around to talk to the guys at the other tables.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“But I just said to him, ‘Man, peace and love, ok?’” Marcelo throws up what’s supposed to be a gangster hand sign as he tells his story. Fábio laughs so hard he falls against Cris because, seriously? That’s the dumbest thing to say to the cop who just pulled you over. “Wait, no, this one’s love, right?” Marcelo throws up another sign. “I think I gave him another hand sign. Well that explains why he got angry then, actually.” Everyone laughs again, and Fábio stays where he is against Cris, enjoying the moment.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Cristiano’s always more of a professional in public than Fábio. He’s been in the spotlight much longer and from a younger age than Fábio, so he always knows how to act discreetly in front of others. Fábio’s the type of person who’s not too bothered by all of that: he’ll kiss Cristiano’s neck in front of a stadium of thousands if he wants to. And even right now though he’s half-draped all over his lover in front of half the team and management, he’s not really worrying.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Pepe is grinning at them and says, without a twitch of his face, “Remember the cameras, guys. Come on.” Cris drops a hand onto Fábio’s knee, squeezing a bit before letting go. That’s their way of ‘holding hands’ in public, his sign to Fábio that, yes, I love you too, but there are people around, so I can’t show you. Fábio sighs and sits up straight.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio sees Cris’s smile become more strained and suddenly everyone’s looking at something behind him. He feels a large hand settle on his shoulder and cranes his neck to look back. Florentino Pérez is smiling jovially at the table in that way of his.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“How’s the food, everyone? Good?” he asks good-manneredly. Everybody agrees, tells him it’s delicious, and Marcelo starts going on about the quality of the lobster. For a lobster found in a football pitch nowhere near the sea, it’s surprisingly good! Florentino laughs and it looks like he’s about to go to another table to make his rounds, when he tilts his head to Fábio.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Can I borrow you for a second, Fábio? I’ll let you get back to the food in a bit.” Florentino has a smile on his face and his tone is light, but Fábio still gets that uncomfortable feeling that something’s not right. He mumbles a “sure” and jerks a nod, standing up and following the president to Barra Cibeles, on the other side of the room. A bartender makes to go wait on them but Florentino waves him away and turns to Fábio once he’s out of earshot.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“What do you think about all this, Fábio?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“The lunch? It’s a great idea I think, very nice for the team.” He’s having a little trouble with his Spanish, and his words are coming out mostly half-Portuguese. He hopes that Pérez understands, but he always struggles a bit when he’s nervous.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Not the lunch, no. I mean all this,” he waves his hand in a vague gesture, “This restaurant, this stadium, this club, what do you think about this all?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio’s not really sure what he’s supposed to say. He fumbles for an answer and settles on his ‘media ready’ generic responses. “I think it’s great. The club is great, the stadium is amazing, and the team is amazing. I’m very committed to the te-”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Florentino cuts him off. “I’m not questioning your commitment to the team Fábio,” he chuckles. “I know you love the team, and I know you always do what’s best for the team.” He gives Fábio a look that sends a shiver up his spine, and Fábio feels like he’s being talked into a trap.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Yes, sir. Always.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin"> Florentino smiles, and Fábio thinks that maybe he did fall into the trap. “This club, this team, it didn’t come from scratch. Real Madrid didn’t build itself. We need to pay fees; we needed to build a stadium and to pay your wages. Every club needs to make money somehow. Madrid is no different. And you know how we make our money, Fábio?” Florentino’s tone is almost at the border of patronizing. It feels like he’s talking down to Fábio, and the Portuguese isn’t really sure what’s going on.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Contracts? Sponsorships? Uhh, tickets sales? Player jerseys?” Fábio throws out suggestions.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Exactly. Especially jerseys. You know how much Madrid makes off jerseys alone? Millions. The managers don’t sell jerseys, Fábio. Players do. Everyone gets the jersey with their favorite player on it, right?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Right.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“And you know who everyone’s favorite is, of course.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Ronaldo?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Exactly.” Florentino’s eyes glint. “He’s not Spanish, he’s not a captain, he hasn’t even been here very long, but he sells the most jerseys out of everyone on the team. And do you know why? It’s not because he’s simply a great player. If it was that alone, everyone’s jerseys would sell like his. You know why Ronaldo sells so many jerseys?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Uh, because the girls like him?” Fábio answers, a feeling of dread creeping into the back of his head.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“That too. It’s because of marketing. We market Cristiano; we market Ronaldo a specific way. He has a certain image he maintains. You know where I’m going with this, right?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Oh God. He hopes not. He hopes Florentino isn’t going where Fábio thinks he’s going. The best he can do is stutter out, “N-no, I’m not really following, sir.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Fábio, we market Cristiano as a man. A strong, wholesome, complete man. His image, the idea of Ronaldo as this perfect man, it sells jerseys. Anything - or anyone - that affects that image is unacceptable.” His smile is gone; he’s looking at Fábio with a sharp warning in his eyes. “You understand me now?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He understands perfectly, knows exactly what Pérez is trying to do. But even though he’s frozen to his seat, he’s not going to go down quietly, and in this passive-aggressive battle of wills, he’ll play the dumb blond card as long as he can. “I still don’t see what this has to do with me, sir.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Pérez sighs like he’s disappointed. Like he expected better from him. “Think about it,” he says, getting up from the stool. “I hope you figure it out before Sunday.” He gives Fábio a pat on his back as he leaves, but Fábio is too numb to react.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio comes back to the table looking a little bit shell-shocked. The guys watch him as he quietly sits down (he discretely moves his chair away from Cris’s as he scoots in) and when he looks up they bombard him.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“What did he say?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“What happened?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“What was he talking to you about?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">They all speak at once and Fábio looks down at his half-eaten meal. He’s suddenly got no appetite and he really does not want to be here.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Fábio.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">He looks up at the tone of Cris’s voice. He can’t quite meet his lover’s eyes, and looks back down at his plate. He picks up his fork and starts moving the food around.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">With a sigh, Fábio answers, “He didn’t really say much. He was just talking about the game this weekend and stuff.” The look in his eyes begs ‘don’t ask me anything else’ and has Cris biting his lip in concern.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Tell me later?” When we get home, the words go unsaid. Fábio nods.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">The rest of the meal drags on in a slow torture, and if anyone notices the Portuguese table is suddenly quieter, no one says anything.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">~*~
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“He’s not allowed to do that!” Cris exclaims in disbelief. “Is he?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Jorge sighs on the screen. Fábio and Cris are sitting in the living room, Skyping with the Portuguese agent. Fábio had told Cris everything Florentino had said, more or less word for word, and all of the implications associated. Cris wore a look of furious disbelief as he listened to him, but Florentino’s parting words were the last straw.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Technically, the team can bench or play anyone at their discretion. At this point we can’t really prove anything; it’ll be just your word versus the word of Florentino Pérez. In this club, you really don’t want to be going up against him, Fábio.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">The blond shrugs helplessly, “But what if they do bench me? What if I can’t play this week or next week or in the Clásico?”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Jorge has that calming ‘I’ve-dealt-with-everything-so-trust-me’ look on his face. “They can’t bench you the rest of the season just because you got a little handsy at a preseason lunch. Give it a week or two. Florentino will calm down, and Mourinho will play you. I would just take this in stride right now, let everything settle down, and see what happens in a few games.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio nods, not exactly placated, but it’ll have to do. Cristiano still looks furious; the idea of not being able to play, even for one game, is incomprehensible to him. Fábio trusts Jorge though, and they’ll listen to whatever their agent says.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“So, what do we do now? Just lay low and wait?” Cris asks, resigned.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“Exactly. Try and drive yourself to practice, and interact as much as possible with everyone else but each other. I hate to say it, but tone it way down for a while. Don’t give anyone reason to talk.” Cris nods at the man’s words. He looks at Fábio, who’s already watching him. They share a look, Cris searching Fábio’s eyes. He must have found what he was looking for, because he glances away, and says to Jorge, “OK. We can do that. That’s not a problem.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Jorge looks satisfied, “Alright. Call me if anything else changes, you understand? I’m always your first call.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">They say their goodbyes and hang up the Skype call. The living room is silent, both men lost in the thoughts racing through their head. Finally, Cris sits back and settles into the couch cushions with a long sigh. He reaches for Fábio's hand and twines their fingers together, gently pulling so the other man leans back too. Fábio settles against Cris's shoulder and Cris wraps an arm around him.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">"You know," Fábio starts, looking down at his jeans. "The whole possibly getting benched part isn't even what's bothering me."
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Cris rests his face against Fábio's blond-streaked hair. "What’s bothering you then?"
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">"You know what, Cris," Fábio huffs. He leans away a bit so he can look the other man in the eye. "We've talked about this, you know. About what would happen if we ever came out." He feels Cris tense against him, but he continues, "I was thinking, if we ever did, that there would be people that would have a problem with it, with us. It's like, I already knew this. I was expecting it. But, I don't know. I just wasn't expecting it from someone in my club. From the fucking president of the whole club."
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Cris wraps his arms tighter around him, presses kisses to his hair. “It’ll blow over, don’t worry. Like Jorge said, they won’t bench you forever. I think Florentino’s just worrying about the image of the club, or whatever. But it’ll be worse for the image of the club if we lose because you’re on the bench. Don’t worry about it.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">“It’s just… the fact that he threatened me in the first place. I still can’t believe it,” he sighs.
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Cristiano sighs too. “There’s always going to be people like that, Fábio. We like to think that two footballers can be gay and together and everything is happy, but it won’t always be like that. We just have to keep doing our job and not give people anything to point at afterwards.”
minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Batang;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">Fábio sits quietly, agreeing with Cris’s words. He’s always made his own decisions his entire life, with his father off at sea and his mom away at work. It’s always been him that made the choices. Now, it feels like the decisions have already been made and he’s simply been informed of his role. He doesn’t like to sit and wait on others, but right now, it seems like he’s got no other options.
Next