Chapter Text
Luck, probably, has let him avoid Hugo for as long as he has. Pure serendipity that PXG and Arsenely haven't traded blows in Europe since the last time they met. Hugo would call it fate, maybe, He wouldn't know anymore. Either way, it doesn't matter now, He finds his luck has run out. Hugo stands a few feet in front of him, back to him and arms folded.
The Kit is awful, He's always thought as much. The bright scarlet clashes with Hugo's burgundy, itches up his skin with wrong. Even with the red in their own kit, PXG's navy blue lines up different enough from theirs so he's stuck looking at blood red for the next ninety or so minutes. What makes it worse, he finds, is the shirt sleeve sponsor embossed in shiny white vinyl on the left shoulder, the outline of a butterfly mocking him as he frowns at it, unease buried deep in his gut.
The collective noun for a group of butterflies is a Kaleidoscope, He's got one standing next to him now in the form of the Arsenely team as they start to walk out onto the pitch.
The Grass is wet under his boots, spring-summer showers plague Paris, the clouds overhead threateningly grey. Maybe if it rains he'll snap out of this funk. Swelling to their feet, the stadium comes alive as they emerge under the floodlights, Ô Ville Lumière in his ears, a precession sung in deafening waves over them. And then as they line up, the Champions league anthem. Sticky with nerves, it's the quarter finals, only the first game in the tie. He watches PXG's captain, not him yet, Shake Arsenaly's captain's own hand and waits to take off running.
Hugo's Good at getting into peoples personal space, throwing them off their well calculated centre and sowing seeds of doubt. He picks Karasu this time, locks him down and deadens their midfield. They've got history anyway, He tries not to let it bother him, It unavoidably does anyway. Seeing him crowd around Karasu, hands hovering over his shoulders every time he readies to bolt out of marking range.
The games a dud anyway. Every time he gets anywhere with the ball one of their defenders materialise in front of him, and every time Arsenaly get up the pitch they fail to create a decent chance. So, all he has to entertain himself with is watching Hugo acquaint himself with Karasu's every move. He's two years late to be jealous and yet his traitorous heart tries anyway.
It's not a total loss, He finds an opening in the thirtieth minute and fires the ball past the keepers straining hands. When crosses his arms in celebration the crows mimics him, That ego boost does something to cheer him up.
Half time is easier then he thought, The goal a saving grace so he doesn't have to listen to the draining tactical talks as closely as he might if they were level or god forbid, coming from behind.
Regrettably, he may have benefited from paying attention to the team talk, because Arsenaly seem to have woken up and Reo Mikage fires a shot from his non-dominant foot past a useless defender ten minutes into the half. He groans as they celebrate, only silver lining being that Hugo looks annoyed he wasn't the one to gift him the assist.
The rest of the game is up and down the pitch, chasing down possession from eachother, Gritting his teeth when some nameless midfielder gets Arsenaly ahead and then again when PXG equalise but his name isn't the one on the score sheet.
It ends 2-2, Numb is all he feels, no elation or disappointment from such a frustrating game. Full time whistle ringing in his ear like tinnitus as he robotically showers and changes. The dressing room is by no means quiet, but none of the chatter reaches him as he Pulls on his shoes and makes his way out. Interviewers follow his exit, Only a few, none he recognises, so he pushes past.
All of their gossip columns tomorrow will probably leave scathing reviews of his attitude, ungrateful for the draw and sore about being passed over for man of the match in favour of someone else he can't even bother to recall. They're right, Probably. His sunny disposition could use some work. Then again, Why should he listen to people so below him?
The clouds have cleared since earlier in the evening, only leaving behind a damp sheen of drying rainwater on the pavements and evidence of the weather in residual raindrops on his drivers seat window, Blurring the streetlights together as he rolls past them. He's realises halfway to his destination driving himself may not have been the best idea, But too set on drinking his sorrows away, he carries on. Someone can come and get him later, It's not his problem.
The double glass doors are glazed over, inside obscured. He pushes in and is taken in by the heady, perfumed air. Finds his way to a purple leather bound seat and flags a server for a beer. "High end stuff," he tells her and hopes she gets it, sinking into the chair and looking up, intricate gold ceiling lights and dark oak panelling.
He's served his drink and he tries to ignore everything else around him but it, the sooner he forgets this evening the better.
Of course, his relative peace doesn't last long, halfway through the bottle a voice rings beside him.
"Can I buy you a drink?" He almost jumps out of his skin, turning to look up at-
Hugo, Of course it's Hugo.
"What?" he baulks, dumbfounded. Hugo looks just as he had earlier, perfectly unbothered, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks expectantly. He's standing as close as the table between them allows, Loki's only surprised he hasn't already dropped into the seat opposite him.
As if he could read his mind, he lowers himself into the leather chair, "You're drinking alone, yes?" he turns to look for a sever, "Let me join you."
He cannot believe his ears. "You want to-" Spluttering and desperately trying to keep his volume low, "Join me?"
Finding his target and waving them down, Hugo looks back at him, impassive expression unreadable, "We should catch up, it's been a while."
A while? A while? he can't comprehend the words coming out his mouth and he's barely tipsy.
"Hugo-" he starts, cut off by Hugo's own voice.
"He will have a death in the afternoon" He barely looks at him as he fires off his order for him, "And I'll have a green tea shot."
His heart skips a miserable beat at Hugo knowing his drink order still. He wants to reach across the table into Hugo's own chest, push past ribs and muscle tissue and inspect his heart, see if it's doing the same piteous dance as his own is.
Staring, staring, staring. Like Hugo is a riddle he can't figure out. Hugo is a riddle he can't figure out, "Why are you here?" Mumbled into the rim of his empty beer bottle, childlike and sullen.
He doesn't answer for a moment, leaning to rest his cheek on his fist propped up on the table, penetrating gaze analysing him down to his cells.
Much to his frustration, instead of answering, he simply comments,"It was a good game today."
"Do you think so?" He clicks his tongue.
"You were good." Words weighted, he probably doesn't even mean it.
("Good isn't great," he almost says)
Instead, he tries, "So were you."
The song playing switches, some dull pop singer with a high pitched voice. Sighing at the boring melody distracts him for a moment. When he looks back at Hugo he's still pondering him, "You'll be in london next week."
"Yes," Unsure what Hugo wants from him.
The drinks are his saving grace, he hears the glass clinking before he sees them, ornate crystal placed on the table in front of them. They don't grant him much respite though, heart dropping when he sees the decoration innocently balanced on the rim.
"I forgot they did this here," Hugo picks up the sugar paper Butterfly from the drink and inspects it pinched between his fingers, Loki's mouth is stone dry, "I wish they would use real species, this doesn't even look convincing."
Of course his mind is on this, whether on not his drink resembles an anatomically accurate insect of not, all while Loki can't even bring himself to look at his own.
He continues, brushing aside Loki's agitation, "I miss coming here with you."
'With you' he tries not to grimace, the simple words reminding him of the reason he came to this place.
"It was our favourite," he agrees, finding the words in the back of his throat. It's been so long since 'Our' referred to anything between him and Hugo, it almost hurts to say.
Hugo places the butterfly onto the table and picks up his drink, sipping, "Do you still come here often?"
He thinks for a moment, eyes down onto his own drink, knocks the butterfly into the liquid and watches it dissolve in the bitter liquor, "Just tonight."
The sugar paper makes the surface of the drink cloudy, he can't see his own expression, hopes it's as composed as he's trying to project. Hugo's own is still unchanged, watching him with those onyx eyes.
"Do you miss it?"
Uncertain what he refers to, Loki stays silent, lets him carry on after a beat.
"Or was it just a whim, that you came here?"
"It-" He starts only to cut himself off with a drink of his cocktail, "I don't know why I came here, Hugo, Why did you come here?"
Hugo's ready for the question to be thrown at him this time, "I hoped you would be here, I wanted to talk."
"We could have talked earlier," He scoffs, "We could have- I don't know, We could have talked before all this."
He stands in frustration, animal instinct to flee, makes it halfway out his seat before Hugo grabs his wrist, eyes suddenly blown wide, "We didn't, I'm sorry we didn't, But we can now, please?"
Sitting again and tearing his wrist from Hugo's hold, he says nothing. Hugo pushes on, "I didn't say anything earlier because we were around other people, but Loki-" He struggles with his words, panic from grasping at Loki still heavy in his voice, "I miss you."
The words bring back the numbing feeling from before, chest rising and falling thickly, Like with his confession Hugo had climbed onto his sternum and pinned him down. The song playing changes again, bass thumping muffled in his ears, the expensive air sours in his nostrils. He can taste his own blood in his mouth, metallic, choking him all the way down his throat. Hugo is looking him in his eyes, inescapably, it doesn't happen often but Loki is well and truly reduced under the shift in the air down to his atoms, stunned still.
"I think," Hugo carries on, hand snaking across to his own, laying limp on the table, a centimetre away from touching yet never making contact, "we should have spoken sooner, at the world cup, I tried but you-"
He eyes the sliver of air between their hands as Hugo speaks, longs to reach out himself, bridge the endless gap. Hugo told him once, that atoms never truly touch, they repel eachother with electromagnetic force, that what you feel when you hold something is really only feeling the molecules push you away, that every time he thought he had touched him they never really did. To brush up against eachother was really to reject the feeling entirely.
He snatches his hand away, "But I what?" righteous fire in his voice, "I left you on that pitch? Walked away telling you you failed? Was it me who did that, Hugo?"
To his credit, Hugo takes it unflinchingly, "No, It was me, Loki, and I am sorry, But it wasn't all my fault."
Eyes dry as he blinks, Lets his chest settle so his hissed whispers don't escalate.
Hugo once again takes the opportunity his silence offers, "I tried to find you, after I had calmed down, but you were gone," voice breaking on the last word.
"You had my number," He snaps, "You could have called, I would have picked up."
Throat bobbing as he swallows down the emotion, Hugo answers, "I didn't know that, I thought- I thought you were done with me, you wouldn't take that disrespect from anyone else, why would I be different?"
you aren't anyone else, he thinks but keeps it trapped in the depths of his mind where he allows the awful weakness that is Vivian Hugo to live.
"And? it's been almost three years, You never reached out."
"I'm sorry. I was-" Hugo thinks, "I was scared, Julien."
The name is a cheap trick, he tries to hide how effective it was, "Don't call me that," his hands draw up to rest on the table again, still far from Hugo's own.
"Why not?" His eyes flicker down to look at Loki's hands but he doesn't move any closer.
"We aren't close like that anymore, never mind your sob story."
Frowning, pursed lips and pinched eyebrows, he tries, voice soft, "Why can't we be? I want to be."
He scoffs, takes another drink instead of bothering to respond.
"What would it take for us to try again?"
A breathy laugh pushes past his slips, breaking the stunned silence, "Why now?"
Hugo's lip quivers, eyes blinking slow, he can see him formulating his response, fingers twisting over themselves, placating himself. "I've wanted to, for years," he takes the initiative, shoots his hand out to hold Loki's, too quick to evade it, long fingers reaching the pulse point on his wrist, no doubt flickering fast enough to betray his desperation, "But after today, I couldn't take it anymore, you were so brilliant, your goal-"
He scowls, taking the weight of Hugo's hand in his and twisting it around, pinning it to the table with his fingernails, "So now you come back, when you think I'm good enough for you again?
Hugo winces at the nails digging into his palm, bottom lip caught between his teeth, "Please, let me make it up for you."
He takes in Hugo's state, wide, wet eyes and hand straining to wrap around his even as he presses it down, breath coming quick and anxious so he can hear the fluttering feathery gasps of air, "You're pathetic."
"I miss you."
Taking his hand off Hugo's own he reaches for his drink, hiding behind the rim of the glass. He can call Hugo as many disparaging things as he wants, they still all apply to him.
"I know you miss me too," Hugo's got some nerve, the dent Loki's nails left still stark against his pale skin, "I saw how you were looking at me, just because you can't bring yourself to say it, doesn't mean it's not true."
Cutting words and cutting gaze, he can't even try to deny it, weak to the truth in Hugo's accusation.
"So what?" He looks away, purposefully dodging the scrutiny of his stone cold facial expression, "Sure I miss you, why would that change anything?"
"I regret everything that happened between us Julien, and I know you do to, It would change everything, if we gave it one more chance."
"We?" voice pitching up, about to kick off again. He feels like flipping the table and yelling, forget public decorum, If Hugo thinks there is any possibility of a 'We' he must be more absurd than he can remember.
"Please don't fight with me, I never want to have to do that," His voice deflated and small, "let me prove it to you, okay? That it would be worth it, I don't want to keep living like this, You're my destiny Julien."
Every agitated raised hackle stills at Hugo's words. It's nothing he hasn't heard before, he'd never been shy about his declarations of fate, but it had been so long since the last time. Disarmed, his resolve fades away with a shuddering sigh, hands relax from the fists he had clenched them into without realising.
"Destiny," he repeats dumbly, "You still think that, after all this time?"
"I never found anyone else, so it must be you," Hugo offers a wry smile.
Despite himself, he scowls, green eyed monster rearing up in him, "You looked for someone else?"
Hugo smiles wider, eyes lighting up as he avoids the question, "So jealous."
He grumbles, "You were the one who wanted to try again, so you can't complain about that."
"I wasn't complaining," Hugo shoots back, pausing to fully realise Loki's words, leaning forward in childlike excitement, "You want to try again?"
He snorts and stands. This time when Hugo grabs at him he doesn't shake him off, after all, for all his prickling feelings at Hugo's attempt at winning him back, it feels good to be worshipped once again, to be sought after and grovelled for, "You have to prove to me it's worth it, and I'll consider."
Hugo looks like he can't quite believe himself, Staring up at him in pure awe, fingers round his forearm holding him like he might fly away on the wind.
"I'll prove it," He nods, joining Loki in standing, still visibly giddy.
"Yeah?" He smiles to himself, pulling out his wallet to pay. Maybe it's a bad idea, to bear his heart so easily to the one person who has successfully broken it, But here and now, Hugo's skin on his again after so long, he can't bear the thought of leaving without him, "How are you going to?"
Hugo swallows, steps round the table, never dropping his arm, "Well, to start," He leans in, bending down enough so Loki can feel the flutter of his eyelashes against his own, a hairs width away from contact with his lips, "Can I take you home?"
Butterflies, he recalls as he closes the distance between them, are generally solitary creatures. His wrist feels cold as Hugo abandons it to cup his face, soft as a feather. He's not like Hugo, has no desire to be alone, if Hugo is a butterfly he wants the social period of his life, wants to wring every second of company he can get from him.
He pulls back, brings both his hands to Hugo's cheeks, flat against his flushed skin, tilting his head to the side to look at him,
"Lets get out of here."
He turns without looking to see if Hugo follows. Hears his feet across the floor though.
The night is cold as they step out, starting to rain again from the looks of the overcast sky. Wordlessly, Hugo shrugs his jacket from his shoulders and holds it out to him.
"Are you serious?" He raises a brow, unimpressed, "I've never seen you do something so cliché."
"So what if it is? I'm proving this to you one way or another."
He laughs, maybe blushes but it's hidden by him swinging the jacket over him, at least a size too big.
If somebody had told him an hour ago he would let Hugo take him home, he would have laughed in their face. Still, doesn't change the fact that Hugo loops an arm round his waist as they begin to walk and he doesn't tear it off. There will be time to be apprehensive and anxious about this in the morning, He reasons to himself, For now he allows himself to lean in, lips still tingling from their momentary connection. The first of many, he's sure.