Archive of Our Own

Can we start over?

Can we be strangers again?

Let me introduce myself.

We can laugh and talk.

And relearn what we already know.

And come up with new inside jokes.

And create memories.

And give each other

a second chance.

He wakes up in a room he doesn’t remember entering. Everything is white - and too bright.

He raises a hand, covering the light coming from the lamp above him. Pressing his elbows against the mattress to support himself, he pushes himself upright into a half-sitting position. He looks around, trying to recognise anything about his surroundings. Nothing.

The door opens with a creak and his head snaps to the two figures who enter the room. One is older, with white hair and glasses, the other one is taller but much younger, carrying a notebook in his hands. Both are wearing long, white coats.

The older smiles as he approaches him and sits down on the chair positioned next to the bed. “Let me introduce myself,” the man says easily, and his calm voice makes it easier to relax a bit “Doctor Ramirez. I’m your doctor, you can come to me with any problems you have. This,” he gestures at the younger man standing next to him “is Valladares. You can call him Carlos, he’ll be here if you need anything.”

He nods slowly, eyes studying the two men in front of him. “Thank you,” he offers, surprised at the voice coming out of his mouth.

Doctor Ramirez gives him a reassuring smile. “First of all, don’t panic. It’s okay if you don’t remember certain things - or anything at all.”

He nods again. It’s comforting, hearing it from someone else, a professional no less.

“Alright,” Ramirez claps his hands together “Let’s see. Do you know where you are?”

The question catches him slightly off guard. How could he know? He doesn’t even know how he got there “Uh,” his eyes flicker over the room. There’s medical equipment in the room, and another bed by the window, although it’s empty. “A hospital?” he tries hesitantly.

Ramirez nods with a smile, satisfied with the answer “Good,” he says “The logical part isn’t damaged.” he murmurs to Carlos and the younger man scribbles something down in his notebook.

“Now,” Ramirez continues, looking back to him “Do you know how you got here?”

He shakes his head.

“Do you know what’s your name?”

The question makes him freeze. Now that he thinks about - no, he doesn’t , but he knows that he should. “I..” he begins weakly “N-no,” he shakes his head again “No, I don’t.”

Ramirez nods, expression unchanging, like it’s the most normal and natural thing in the world “It’s fine,” he assures him “Does the name Lionel Messi ring a bell?”

“Uh,” he tries to concentrate, tries to really focus on the name, bring up any kind of memory related to it. There’s nothing “No, no.. Not really.”

“Well,” Ramirez puts a hand on his forearm “That’s your name. Lionel Andrés Messi, known as Leo to most your friends and family.”

“Leo,” he echoes the name, tasting it on his tongue. Leo. Right, he’s Leo “Leo Messi.”

Ramirez nods “Exactly,” he turns to Carlos, telling him something Leo can’t quite make out.

“Um, I’m sorry but,” Ramirez turns to look at him again and Leo pauses, fiddling with the words, unsure how to put it “What happened? Why am I.. Like this? Why do I not remember anything?”

The doctor nods patiently as he speaks, unbothered by the question at all. He almost looks like he was expecting it. “I’m not going to dive into much detail,” he begins “you brain is very sensitive right now, you should be careful with how much new information you consume at a time. So for now I’ll just say this.” he’s speaking at a normal pace, but slow enough for Leo to catch the words and register all of them “You’re a professional footballer. During your last match you received a hard blow to your head and as a result of that, the part of your brain that is responsible for private memory suffered a severe damage. In other words, you have retrograde amnesia.”

He pauses, waits for Leo to nod, and then goes on “You can still perform any of the activities you could prior to the incident; your basic human skills and knowledge stayed the same. But the private part of the memory - the one responsible for relations with other people, private information, social knowledge that is beyond the basic needs, and so on - that one has undergone slight changes.”

Leo’s throat feels a bit dry. He swallows and asks, fearing the answer he might receive to his question “But is it… Reversible?” Or is this forever, he wants to ask, am I stuck like this now?

“In your case it’s completely curable,” The doctor hurries to assure him “Your case is not that severe, the area was damaged but it is not irreparably broken, or worse: gone. With the right time and efforts, it will take from three months up to two years for your memory to completely recover.”

Leo exhales in relief. At least he knows he will have it back. It’s a weird sensation, in a way, he doesn’t even know what he’s missing out, but the feeling of not knowing anything is absolutely horrible, and he knows that he doesn't want it to stay this way. “You said three months up to two years.. What does it depend on?”

Ramirez gives a shrug “A lot of things. Your brain’s capabilities, the people who surround you, the pace you’ll go at. You’ll get more details from Doctor Rodriguez today - she’s the expert at post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, I’m more of a general neurologist.”

He asks him a couple of more questions, all the while telling Carlos to write certain things down in the notebook. Leo answers patiently, trying to give the most accurate responses he can manage (it’s not all that hard, most of his answers are just “no” anyway).

When they finish, Ramirez announces that he’s going to let in a couple of his friends.

“Go easy on your brain, though,” he warns “if they start getting too much don’t hesitate to tell them off,” he squeezes Leo’s shoulder and exits the room.

Leo sits up a bit straighter and stares at the white wall in front of him, his mind trying to process all the information it’s gotten until now.

He can hear Ramirez’ muffled voice outside of the room, now accompanied by a few more. “Only two of you for now,” he states firmly “Go easy on him. Names, your relationship with him and that’s it. You have fifteen minutes, go.”

The door slams open and two figures burst into the room.

“Leo!”

Leo’s eyes scan the two new people in the room. One is very tall, light brown hair disheveled, bright blue eyes shining with concern.

“Leo,” he repeats, rushing over to the bed Leo’s sitting on. He reaches his hand out, meaning to touch him, but stops just a few inches away from his face. “I-” he draws it back slightly, a troubled frown on his face “How are you feeling?”
“Uh,” Leo opens his mouth to reply, but finds himself unable to let out anything. He’s saved from the uncomfortable silence by the second guy, who closes the door slowly and walks over to them.

“God, Geri, let him breathe,” he’s shorter than the first one, but not short. His head is covered with short, dark black hair, and his skin is very tan compared to the other two.

He sits down on the bedside next to Leo, purposefully leaving a small distance between them, which is Leo incredibly grateful for. “Luis, Luis Suárez.” he says easily, introducing himself “And this big idiot over here,” without looking away from Leo, he points a thumb in the other’s direction “Is Gerard Piqué, Geri for you. If he’s annoying you just tell me and I’ll kick him out.” The taller guy - Geri - makes an indignant sound at the back of his throat, but Luis ignores him and keeps talking “We all work together. Oh, also I’m your best friend.”

“That’s a big fat lie!” Geri exclaims in protest “Everybody knows I’m Leo’s biggest friend.”

“Well,” Luis sends him an amused look “You certainly are the biggest in size, but..”

Geri’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times as he stares at Luis, unsuccessfully trying to come up with a good comeback. Luis leans against the back of the bed and laughs.

Leo’s lips involuntarily pull up into a smile and he finds himself laughing along with them. Despite everything, it feels easy and natural. He could get used to it.

“Wait, you said we work together,” he says, suddenly remembering what Doctor Ramirez has told him “Does that mean you’re footballers too?”

“Oh, yeah,” Luis grins “We’re both forwards and Geri is a defender. You’ll meet the others eventually.”

Leo nods. It’s kind of ridiculous and a bit unfair, he thinks, that he gets to remember abstract information about the world around him - languages, countries, cities - but he can’t even remember what he and his friends do for a living.

“Am I good?” he asks jokingly, looking at the two in question.

Luis and Geri fall silent and exchange weird glances. There seems to be some kind of silent conversation going on between them before Luis grins sheepishly and says “Yeah, I think this is the kind of info the doc was referring to when he told us not to tell him anything that would overload his brain.” Then he turns to Leo and places a hand on his knee “You’ll find out about it later. Let’s just say.. You’re not bad at all.”

“You really don’t remember anything?” Geri’s shoulders sag and there’s something sad glistening in his eyes. It makes something in Leo’s heart sting; it suddenly hits him that however hard it is for him, he can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for his family and close friends.

“No,” he shakes his head slowly “I really don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Geri blurts out hotly “This isn’t your fault.”

Leo gives him a small smile. He must be very lucky to have such friends. “Thanks,”

Geri’s eyes are shining with something very sincere and warm. “Luis, can I hug him now?”

Luis throws his hands up “Why are you asking me , ask Leo,”

Leo laughs “Of course you can, Geri,”

The words barely get out of his mouth and Geir is already surging forward, throwing his arms around him and enveloping him in a tight hug. Leo lets himself relax into the contact, resting his cheek against Geri’s shoulder. It’s not long after that when Luis joins them, wrapping a secure arm around Leo.

He may not remember names and numbers, but he does remember feelings. And this feels like home.

Yes, he could definitely get used to it.

The medical team insists on keeping him in the hospital for at least a week more, despite his physical condition being completely stable and normal.

Geri and Luis come to visit every day, bringing a new person with them each time. There were even a few players from rival clubs who said they were passing by and jumped in to wish him a quick recovery.

It was all very nice, overall, but it didn’t help the one problem Leo was having. He was bored as hell.

He talked to their coach and Valverde said that after a long discussion with the club and the medical team, they decided that it would be best for him to stay away from playing for a few months, at least until his condition gets better.

Leo didn’t mind at first, but he learned very fast that apparently passing his time without football was a rather difficult task. And it didn’t help that his daily consumption of information was limited.

“God!” Leo throws the book in his hands aside and rolls onto his stomach “How is this week not over yet?” He grabs a pillow from underneath himself and throws it in the direction of the wall blindly. It turns out to be a mistake because the next second he can hear a loud crash and the moment Leo turns around he finds the mate cup Luis brought him on the floor, liquid spilled all over the tiles. Leo curses.

He jumps off the bed and shuffles over to the incident place cautiously “Shit,” he should probably call a nurse.

The nurse isn’t very happy about the mess he’s created, but still tells him that she’ll take care of it and sends him into the hospital cafeteria to “go buy some coffee”.

Leo drags himself to the elevator. He presses the down button and leans against the wall, hands in the pockets of his hospital gown. While he’s waiting, the door to one of the rooms across from him opens, and a man about his age comes out of it, still talking to someone inside the room.

“I’ll talk to you later then. Get well soon, yeah?”

He laughs at something the person inside replies, throws a few more words and closes the door. There’s still a smile on his face when he starts walking toward the stairs but his entire expression freezes and he stops in his tracks the moment his eyes accidentally land on Leo.

Leo fidgets. Not knowing sucks .

He takes the man in front of him in. He’s much taller than him (although almost everybody seems to be taller than him) with tanned, brown skin and carefully combed back brown hair. He looks like he just stepped out of a fashion magazine, Leo finds himself thinking. And the way he keeps staring at Leo almost as if he’s just seen a ghost means that maybe, maybe he should find something familiar about it.

“Uh,” Leo forces himself to speak up first, seeing that the other isn’t meaning to make the first move for a conversation “Do I know you?”

Something flashes behind the man’s eyes but then his expression closes off and he cocks an eyebrow indifferently “I don’t know.” he gives Leo a look “Do you?”

“I..” Leo bites his lip “I meant- Do you know me? Am I- Am I supposed to know you? Did I know you before the..” He’s babbling, Leo realises and he feels his cheeks flush lightly.

The other finally decides to take pity on him “I.. Guess you could say so.” he says slowly, something in his expression softening. He seems less defensive. “Let’s just say that our names are frequently associated with each other.”

“I see,” Leo mumbles, unable to manage anything more than that.

The other studies him for a moment longer, then gives him a nod and heads toward the stairs. Leo watches his back walk away slowly. There’s something familiar about the man’s face - he just knows that he knows him. And the way he looked at Leo wasn’t a way you would look at a stranger. Leo is tired of hurting people he’s supposed to love because he can’t fucking remember anything.

“Wait!”

The other stops in his tracks and turns around. “Yeah?”

Leo shifts his weight from one foot to another “I was just heading to the… Cafeteria, to get coffee.” he says, motioning at the elevator behind him “Wanna join me?”

The other man blinks at him in surprise “Uh,” he brings up his arm and glances at his watch “Yeah, actually.. I do have some time right now.. Yeah, sure,” he looks up at Leo and gives him a small smile “Why not?”

Leo nods, returning the smile “Great.”

“So what’s your name?”

His company looks up from his phone, blinking at Leo. He looks taken aback for a split second but then an amused smirk takes over his lips “You really don’t remember anything, do you?”

Leo groans, playing with the plastic cup in his hands “Will everybody just stop asking me that?” he says, only half jokingly “I have amnesia, that’s the whole point, I don’t actually remember anything.”

The other’s smirk softens into a small smile “It’s Cris,” he offers. The moment he says it he frowns and bites his lip, like he just said something bad. He looks lost for a second but recovers quickly, expression changing so fast Leo is sure he imagined it “Cris is short for Cristofer. Cristofer Romano.”

“Cristofer Romano,” Leo drawls the name, testing the way it rolls on his tongue. Something flickers in his mind, something similar, but it’s still too far away for his to grasp “Cris,” Cris gives him a nod “And I’m-”

“I know,” Cristofer cuts him off, the smirk back on his face “Leo Messi,”

Leo flushes “See?” he exclaims, resting his chin against the close lid of his cup “I feel so stupid, everybody knows who I am, but I have no idea who they are. I feel so bad.”

Cristofer gives him a strange look. Leo can’t quite catch the main emotion hiding behind it. “Maybe it’s for the better,” he murmurs.

“Iced green tea latte!” the girl behind the counter exclaims and Cristofer gets up to take his order.

“So,” Leo begins when the other sits down across from him again “Where are you from? And what do you do?” Cristofer shoots him a glance, visibly fighting a smile. Leo squints at him “Don’t laugh.”

“Okay, fine,” the other clears his throat, but the corners of his lips stay turned upwards “I’m originally from Portugal, but I’ve been working in Spain for years now. Madrid, to be more specific. And to answer your second question I’m a, uh,” he pauses, tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips “I’m a businessman, sort of. I work on different projects all the time.”

“Ah, really?” Leo’s eyes travel down to his upper arms, where the tight shirt is hugging visibly defined biceps, and then back up to Cristofer’s face “The way you’re..” he makes a vague gesture with his hand in the direction of the other’s chest “..built I would think you’re a personal gym trainer. Or a model,”

The observation draws a laugh from the other “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says with a confident smirk “But yeah, I do work as a model sometimes. And I do a lot of sports in my free time,” he pauses and then adds “mainly football.”

“Oh,” the word perks Leo’s interest even further “You play football?”

“In my free time,” Cris repeats, stressing the fact “Not professionally.”

“But you watch professional football, right?” Leo clarifies “La Liga and all,”

Cristofer nods “Yeah, of course. La Liga, Primeira Liga, the Champions League.. Most of the big matches from all the other leagues,” he takes his latte cup, bringing it to his lips.

Leo tilts his head to the side “Do you like me?” he asks jokingly.

Cris chokes on his latte. “I-” he pulls the cup away from his lips, staring at it in betrayal “It’s.. complicated,” he says cautiously “I’m a Madridista. And you play for Barcelona. So.. It’s not all that simple,” he takes another sip from his latte and places it back on the table “But to answer your question..” His eyes go over to study Leo’s face carefully “I.. Do like you. You’re a very good player.”

Leo ducks his head under the other’s intense eye “Everybody keeps saying that,” he mumbles “But I don’t see it.”

Cristofer smiles “You will. You should watch Barcelona’s old matches sometime.” he leans back against the back of his chair, reaching for his latte again, but then his eye catches something behind Leo’s back. Cristofer’s eyes widen and he freezes for a second.

“Oh, my!” he exclaims, sitting upright quickly “Won’t you look at the time! I completely forgot I have a meeting soon. I’m really sorry, Leo, I have to go,” he shoots Leo a sheepish smile, grabs his phone and stands up “I would stay more, really, but I need to leave. I’ll talk to you later,” he says, already heading toward the exit.

“Wait,” Leo says, caught off guard by the fast flow of the scene “I don’t have your number,”

“I’ll text you!” Cris yells just before disappearing behind the doors. Leo sighs.

It’s only five seconds later that another voice draws his attention.

“Leo!”

Leo turns around, looking at the entrance to the cafeteria. It’s a guy a bit younger than him, about his height, with light brown skin and short, curly hair. There’s a phone in his hand and he’s wearing something Leo would’ve easily mistaken for a Turkish rug from a museum. Leo can easily recognise Neymar from Luis and Geri’s stories.

“Fuck, Leo!” Neymar rushes over to him and envelopes him in a tight hug.

Leo wraps his arms around him in return. “Ney,”

Neymar pulls back to look at him, keeping him hands on Leo’s shoulders. “I’m sorry for only coming now, I really couldn’t make it any earlier. I’ll have to go back to Paris soon, but I can stay the weekend over in Barcelona,” he grabs the chair Critofer was sitting on prior to that and pulls it closer to Leo’s “Let’s sit.”

Neymar talks a lot - he talks about Paris, and about how much French is ugly compared to Spanish - he worries a lot too, asking Leo how he’s feeling and whether or not he feels any physical pain besides the amnesia - but Leo is content to let him take the lead of the conversation.

“Ooh,” Neymar gestures at Cristofer’s abandoned cup with a cheeky grin “Is that latte for me?”

Leo opens his mouth to say no. “Yeah, sure.”

Leo gets a text from him later that evening, just as Cris promised. It says that he’s still in Barcelona the next day for business, and if Leo has free time they can meet up somewhere in the afternoon. Leo wants to say that, hello, he’s in the hospital, not allowed to play football, there can’t possibly be anything he’ll be doing in the afternoon, so he tells Cristofer to come pick him up anytime he’s free.

When Leo goes down to the parking lot, wearing shorts and an oversized grey hoodie, he doesn’t expect to be greeted by a shiny, red-and-black sports car.

“Woah now,” he comes closer slowly, almost afraid to touch it “This isn’t the car of a gym trainer, is it?” he jokes.

“I know,” Cristofer sends him a wide grin “Look at this baby,” he says, pursing his lips and making kissy faces at the steering wheel “I just washed her,”

“If you keep that up I’ll just leave,” Leo warns him, but when Cris opens the passenger door for him, he gets inside and sits down beside him with no complaints.

Cristofer looks him up from head to toe and grimaces “What a useless amnesia. It did nothing to make you forget you horrible sense of style.” he declares dramatically “Driving a Ferrari in something like this is just criminal.”

Leo elbows him “Shut up,” he mutters, although there’s a smile on his lips. “Where are we going? A drive around Barcelona?”

Cristofer frowns “Eh.. No. We can’t do that.”

Leo looks over at him in surprise “Why?”

“Because..” he pauses, searching for the right explanation “Because you’re famous here.” he says finally “People will recognise you. We don’t want that. Come on,” he turns back toward the road and sets the vehicle into motion “I know a cool place just outside of Barcelona. Just trust me.”

Leo relaxes against the soft seat, stretching his legs out as much as the size of the car is letting him. “I do.”

It becomes a regular thing. Whenever Cristofer was around in Madrid for business, he would pass by and they would go out somewhere together, or even just stay inside, order in food, watch games together and talk.

“What are you doing?” Cris asks as he enters the house, dropping his bag by the entrance “I brought some sushi. I know you said pizza but that’s not healthy so I bought sushi instead.”

“What an ass,” Leo complains from where he’s lying on the couch. Then, “What sushi?”

He doesn’t need to look up to know Cristofer is smirking “Salmon and avocado. And ,” he adds, before Leo can complain further “Tempura shrimps for you.”

Leo finally tears his gaze away from the tv and looks at him, grinning “You’re the best.”

Cris shoots him a sarcastic - or maybe it’s not - smile “I know.”

He goes into the kitchen, pulling out two plates and setting the sushi on them. “Did you already start the training program Valverde was talking about?”

Leo nods, flicking through the archive of recorded matches on his tv “Oh, yeah, I already did. It’s a bliss, you have no idea. Not doing anything all day is so tiring,” he can hear Cris hum in agreement from the kitchen “They want me to stay in shape, but they don’t want me to join the matches until there’s any significant improvement with my memory. So I’m training alone for now - it’s not all too bad.”

“And.. Is there?” Cristofer asks.

“Is there what?”

“Improvement. With the memory.” Cris grabs the two plates and heads to the living room to join Leo on the couch.

Leo shrugs. “Some? I don’t know. Nothing comes up by itself unless it’s triggered.” he says, recalling the words and terms doctor Ramirez used when they talked last time “Doc suggested to watch some old matches, so I’ve been doing that. I’m searching for one of the last Madrid Derbies to watch now, it should be interesting..”

“No!”

Leo’s finger freezes in the middle of the motion. He tears his gaze away from the remote control and looks over at Cris. The other looks like he’s shocked by his own words no less than Leo.

“I meant.. Don’t watch Madrid.” he clarifies “Real Madrid. They..” a pause. Cris bites his lip “They suck.”

Leo frowns. “I thought you like Real.”

“I do,” Cristofer hurries to reassure him. “It’s just that.. It’s not for you, trust me, you won’t like them.” he places the plates on the small table next to the couch and sits down next to Leo, taking the remote from his hands “Don’t you wanna watch something from the EPL?” he asks, flipping through the list “The Manchester Derby, let’s say,” he glances at Leo to check his reaction “I like United. I used to work in Manchester in the past. Nice place. Bad weather, but the place is nice.”

Leo studies him. Then shrugs, leaning against the back of the couch. “Whatever,” he says carelessly “I don’t mind. Let’s watch the Manchester Derby.”

Cris visibly relaxes. He hands Leo his plate, grabs his own, and settles down between the pillows comfortably.

“What about these?” Geri asks, pulling out another pair of football boots, completely identical to the other three he showed them prior to that. “These are better. No, these are definitely better. What do you think?” He looks over to Leo and Luis, expecting a reaction.

“I don’t care, Geri,” Luis mutters through half-gritted teeth “You could buy high heels that shine in the dark and I won’t care. Just choose something already and let’s please get out of here.”

Geri shoots him a glare. “You’re no fun.” he states “Remind me to never bring you with me when I’m going shopping again.” Geri turns his attention to him. “Leo?”

Leo blinks at the boots dumbly. “I don’t know, Geri,” he says honestly “you know I’m an Adidas kind of guy. But it’s you who’s supposed to like them, not us.”

Geri narrows his eyes “You only like Adidas because we told you that you like Adidas.” he retorts.

“That’s not true,” Leo protests “my tastes never changed. Adidas is just better.”

Luis gives Geri a challenging smirk “See?”

While Geri and Luis keep bickering, Leo looks around. There’s a lot of posters in the shop - he can even recognise Neymar and Geri in some of them. His eyes fall on a certain poster, and he almost looks past, but something makes his eyes stop, makes him focus his attention on it.

There’s that flickering light at the back of his head again. It’s like a tiny rope of light, a rope that he’s trying to catch, but whenever his fingers seem to clench around it, it slips away.

“Who’s that?” the question is out before he can stop it.

Geri and Luis stop, both turning to look in the same direction as Leo.

“Oh,” Geri says flippantly once he notices what Leo is looking at “That’s Ronaldo. You don’t wanna know about this yet, trust me, the later you find out, the better.”

Leo frowns. “Ronaldo?” he echoes. He looks at the poster, really looks at it, at the red kit with Portugal’s crest on it, stretched over the man’s broad chest, at the concentrated expression on the player’s face as he pulls his foot back to shoot. “I know him.” Leo says. He doesn’t remember, but he knows that he should, he knows that it’s a person he used to know. “I know him.” he repeats, more insistent this time.

“Nah,” Geri waves his hand dismissively “You don’t. I mean, of course you do - who doesn’t know Ronaldo - but not really. You don’t want to know him anyway,” he adds as a matter of factly “He’s kind of a douchebag.”

Luis looks at Geri, half in amusement, half in annoyance. “How informative.”

They start bickering again, but Leo tunes them out. Ronaldo. Yeah, that rings a bell. He can’t see how, not yet, but he will find out.

“You can’t do that.”

Leo ignores him and shifts the ball a bit to the left, mentally measuring the distance between its position and the bucket.
“Yes I can.” he retorts stubbornly.

He can hear Cristofer rolling his eyes - yes, hear , the action is always accompanied by the same indignant huff. “And I’m telling you that you can’t.” he says pointedly. Cris stands up and walks over to stand on the grass in front of Leo, arms crossed over his broad chest “This angle is literally impossible.”

Leo narrows his eyes and frowns. He doesn’t believe that. “Move.”

Cristofer taps his foot against the ground and scoffs. “You think I haven’t tried?” he raises an eyebrow at Leo “It’s impossible. Physics has its limits. You’re just going to end up breaking a window.”

Leo places his hands on his hips and glares at the other. “Well, I think that it is .”

Cristofer rolls his eyes again. He moves away finally, and at first Leo thinks that he’s giving in, but then Cris gets closer, snatches the ball away from Leo’s feet and spins it around in his hands.

Leo’s mouth opens to protest. “Hey-”

But before he can stop him, Cris balances the ball on his foot, gives it a few light kicks and then shoots it into the opposite direction. It flies over the pool and lands on the roof of the small wooden pool house next to it.

Cristofer turns around, an impossibly wide grin on his face. “Now, this is a possible angle.”

Leo presses his hands to both sides of his face, gaping at where the ball is stuck on the pool house’s roof in disbelief “You absolute asshole,” he whines “What did you do?”

“I saved you a huge bill from the glazier.” the other deadpans “Now come on, let’s get inside, you’ve been practicing for almost an hour already.” Cris places his hands on Leo’s shoulders and pushes him in the direction of the house gently “Go, go, go,”

When Leo gets out of the shower, rubbing his damp hair with a small towel, Cristofer is sitting on his bed, typing something on his phone. When he hears Leo enter the room he looks up and grins “Hey,”

Leo walks over to the shelf with his clothes “Hey yourself.” He can feel Cristofer’s eyes on him while he pulls out a grey t-shirt and puts it on.

“Are you just going to leave your hair like that?”

Leo frowns and looks at his reflection. He brushes a few strands away from his face. Everything looks fine to him. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” Cris must disagree, though, because Leo can see his reflection pull a grimace in the mirror.

“Don’t you like, own a comb?”

Leo turns around to face him, hands on his hips. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” he repeats.

“Puh-lease,” Cris throws his phone aside and reaches a hand out, pulling Leo to him by the arm. “Come here, let me fix it.”

Leo ducks his head and tries to get away. “Nuh-ah!” he protests stubbornly “You’re just going to pour fifty liters of gel on me, I know you!”

Cris gives him an amused look “Oh, sweetheart, your hair won’t take that much, it doesn’t curl.” He tugs on Leo’s sleeve insistently and eventually Leo loses his balance and falls on the bed.

He lets out a gasp. “Cris!”

The other smirks down at him. “Nobody will hear your screams when you drown in hair gel,” he murmurs darkly.

Leo finds himself giggling. His hands go up on instinct, trying to shelter his hair from whatever there is to come. “Stop!” he lets out between fits of laughter. “Stop.. Stop it, Cristiano!”

They both freeze.

Cristiano pulls away abruptly, sitting on the side of the bed as he leaves a few inches of distance between himself and Leo. Leo pushes himself upright into a sitting position with his elbows and places a hand over his forehead. There’s a loud ringing in his head.

Cristiano opens his mouth and wets his lips. “Did you.. Just..?”

Leo closes his eyes. His head is spinning, but it’s already starting to calm down. He lets out a shaky breath.

“How.. How did you know?”

Leo opens his eyes slowly and shakes his head from side to side. “I don’t know.. I don’t know..” he can’t explain it, there’s a lot going on in his mind right now, it’s too big for him to comprehend, let alone put it into words “I just.. Suddenly knew. I don’t know..”

There’s something very raw and vulnerable in Cristiano’s eyes. “What.. What else do you remember?” he manages weakly. He almost sounds like he’s afraid of the answer.

“Nothing. Just.. Just this.” Leo answers truthfully. It’s not that much, and yet it’s huge . Leo feels a happy laugh bubbling up in his stomach. He looks over at Cristiano. “Why did you lie about it, though?”

Cristiano bites his lip. He takes a moment to think and then says “I just.. Wanted to see if you would remember.”

Leo smiles. It’s hard to guess what’s going on in Cristiano’s head right now, there’s so many emotions written all over his face, but for the huge number of them there’s isn’t any particular one that would stand out. “Well, I did.” he says quietly “You must be really important.” Cristiano’s eyes snap to look at him. There’s something very strong, very intense in his gaze. “I can’t wait to find out more.”

Cristiano’s lips pull together, forming a small smile. It looks somewhat sad. “It’s better if you don’t.”

Leo starts remembering small details after that. He can’t point out the exact moment it happens, there aren’t fireworks and a “congratulations” sign each time another hole in his memory is filled. It happens naturally, things just start coming up when they’re touched.

“I made us some toasts,” Leo says when he hears Luis enter the house.

The other forward kicks off his shoes and steps inside, walking toward the living room where Leo is seated. “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” Leo hums “They’re on the table, in the kitchen.” he explains “Yours are the ones on the yellow plate. I know you hate pickles so I didn’t put any in yours.”

Luis doesn’t reply. At first Leo ignores the fact, but when he stays silent Leo tears his gaze away from his book and looks up at him. “Luis? You alright?”

There’s a short, not very convincing nod from the other. “Yeah..” he drawls “But Leo.. I never told you I hate pickles.”

Leo blinks. “Oh.” he must’ve confused him with someone else then. Damn his half-functioning memory. “You can take mine then, I don’t mind all that much.”

“No,” Luis shakes his head abruptly “You don’t get it. I do hate pickles, Leo. I just never told you about it.”

It takes a moment for it to sink in. Once it does, Leo’s eyes widen. “Wait, did I just-”

“Yes!” There’s a huge grin on Luis’ face. “Yes, you just did, Leo!”

Leo feels a wide smile take over his face. Before he can say anything else Luis is already sitting by him on the couch, pulling him into a tight embrace. Leo buries his face in the crook of his neck and relaxes into the touch, letting Luis’ fingers comb through his hair gently.

“Welcome back, Leo,” he whispers into his ear.

Leo laughs. “Not yet,” he corrects him. Or at least, not completely.

“Soon,” Luis responds and Leo can hear the smile in his voice “Very soon.”

They’re sitting on the couch in the living room - well, Cristiano is sitting; Leo is lying on his back, feet dangling off the end of the couch, head in the other’s lap. Cristiano is aimlessly messing with his phone with one hand, the other playing with Leo’s hair gently. The TV is on, a random series playing on in the background, but it’s muted and neither of them is really paying any attention to it as Leo keeps talking about his latest conversation with Kun.

“After that we talked about Argentina for a bit,” he goes on “You know, I still don’t remember most things, but it’s slowly coming back. I can even recall some events from Rosario, from when I was a kid. Doctor Ramirez says I’m making good progress, I’ll probably be able to play again in a few months.” He glances up, searching for Cristiano’s eyes.

“Yeah, huh?” The other hums. He’s listening, but his attention is focused on something else. He looks thoughtful and slightly troubled.

Leo pulls away and sits up, which finally makes Cristiano’s eyes snap over to him. Leo looks at him.

“You aren’t happy that I’m getting my memory back.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement.

Cristiano lets out a long sigh. The fact that he doesn’t try to deny it straight Wy already says a lot. He raises a hand and rubs his eyes tiredly, like he’s having a very strong headache.

“I’m happy for you .” He says, looking at Leo. There’s honesty in his voice, but it’s not enough.

“But you aren’t happy for yourself .” Leo presses.

Cristiano doesn’t reply. He averts his eyes to the tv screen, but it’s clear from the unfocused haze in them that he isn’t paying attention to it.

“What’s your deal?” He blurts out sharply, before he has a chance to think it over. He wants to know, he’s so damn tired of not knowing. He reaches his hand forward, touching Cristiano’s forearm, and when he speaks up again his voice is softer. “What happened, Cris? What did I do? What did you do? What is it that you’re so afraid of me finding out?” Cristiano finally makes eye contact again and there’s that look in his eyes again, the one Leo can’t read no matter how much he tries. Leo bites his lip. “Whatever it is, we can work it out, I promise.”

Cristiano shakes his head slowly. “It’s much more complicated than that.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Leo retorts “We could-”

“Shh, Leo,” Cristiano hushes him. He reaches out a hand and runs his fingers through Leo’s hair. He brushes a particularly long strand away from his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. “Please, just.. Just let me have this, while we still have time. Please.”

Leo doesn’t have it in him to argue when Cristiano is asking him like that.

“Guys, look who’s here!”

Jordi is the first to notice when Leo sets foot in the training grounds.

Leo smiles, gives the group a small wave and tucks his hand back into his jumper’s pockets. He can see his breath, a tiny cloud of white mist in the air, when he replies with a small “Hi,”. It’s way too cold for his liking.

He’s completely surrounded by his teammates in the blink of an eye. He knows basically all of them by now, but their large number is still a bit overwhelming. Geri goes to stand behind Leo after hugging him tightly, and Leo leans back against him like a wall, letting Geri’s hands rest on his shoulders protectively.

“What, are you joining us already?” Jordi asks him, playing with the ball between his feet.

“No, not yet,” Leo replies “I just came to see how you’re all doing. I’ll still be training alone for a while, but I’ll probably join you for the next Clásico,” he explains, repeating what Valverde told him earlier that day “Doctor Ramirez said it might even speed up the recovery process, since it’s a pretty meaningful event in my memory.”

There are cheers coming from Sergi, Rafa and some others, making Leo smile. It feels good to be missed.

“That’s fucking fantastic,” Geri exclaims hotly behind him “We shouldn’t let Madrid forget where their place is.”

Luis raises an eyebrow at him “And where is their place?” Leo can’t tell if he’s actually asking him or just playing along with Geri, knowing what’s going to come.

Geri’s lips split in a large grin “Under us on the La Liga table.” Geri lets out a loud bark of laughter, amused by his own cleverness. Luis is looking at him funny.

“But Leo,” Leo feels Masche’s hand on his arm and turns to look at him “You don’t have to play if you’re not feeling well. Wait as much as you need, nobody’s pushing you.”

“Exactly,” Andrés nods, backing up his words “Keep that in mind.”

Leo feels his cheeks flushing under all the attention. “Thanks guys,” he answers warmly “I know.”

“They’re right,” Geri joins them, giving Leo’s shoulder a friendly slap “We can totally beat Madrid by ourselves for you, just say the word.” And then he adds casually, “Ronaldo’s been really off these past couple of matches.”

Rafa gives him a funny look “How do you know?” he asks teasingly.

Geri glares at him “I watch sports news, you asshole.” he says, almost defensively. “No, but really! The dude’s been missing some very obvious opportunities, doesn’t seem like him.” then the smirk is back on his face “He’s probably nervous ‘cause he knows Leo is coming back soon.”

Leo sends a confused look in Luis’ direction. “Ronaldo.. The Madrid goal scorer?” he asks to clarify “The pretty guy from the poster in the Nike shop?”

Geri makes a choking noise at the back of his throat and Luis looks at him in amusement. “Yeah,” he drawls “The pretty guy from the poster in the Nike shop.”

Leo lets out a long sigh. “Everyone keeps bringing him up, but I haven’t even seen him play yet,” he says, the complaint bordering on a whine as he glances up at Geri with a small pout.

“Trust me, you aren’t missing out anything,” Geri assures him with a light squeeze of his shoulder “He isn’t all that special. People just like talking about him.”

Leo thinks it says a lot about how close he and Cris have gotten in the past few months that he doesn’t feel the tiniest bit of guilt when the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens the door is “Why are you here at this time of the day?”

Cristiano flashes him a blinding smile “Good morning to you too, Leo,” he responds as he pushes past him into the house “I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”

Leo closes the door after him, buries his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket, and follows him into the living room. “No, really, don’t you have work today?”

“Nah,” Cristiano responds easily, pulling his coat off and dropping it on one of the armchairs, like he’s in his own home “We have a, uh, winter holidays at the office.”

Leo nods with a small “ah” of understanding “Yeah, me too. Winter break started yesterday.” He pulls the collar of his jacket up to cover his nose. God, it’s cold . “Oh,” he says, suddenly remembering “Cris?”

Cristiano looks up at him “Yeah?”

“I’m going to go to Argentina with a couple of friends in a few days - not for long, just a week or so. It’s summer over there right now, so it’s going to be nice.” he crosses his legs and leans against the back of the armchair. The mere thought of America’s summer is already making him feel warmer “I was wondering if you would want to join us?”

Cristiano blinks at him “Really?” he asks with a tentative, boyish smile. The surprise in his eyes is bordering on disbelief. Leo thinks he looks adorable.

“Yeah, sure, why not? It could be nice.”

Cristiano nods with a smile “It could..” he looks thoughtful for a second “who are you going with again?”

“Oh,” Leo shrugs “Just me, Masche and Kun. Geri was going to come too, but Cesc dragged him and Jordi to Greece.”

Leo could swear he can see Cristiano’s face fall “Oh..” the disappointed expression is gone in the blink of an eye as he pulls over a sheepish grin “Well, it seems like you’re having an all-Argentine hangout, I don’t wanna bother you.”

“You won’t,” Leo promises “Kun is a sociable guy, and Masche will like you, for sure.”

Cristiano gives him a strange smile “I’m sure he will.” he studies Leo for a moment and then shrugs casually “But no, I already promised some friends to go to Ibiza next week anyway, it would be unfair to cancel the plans last minute.”

“I see,” Leo hums in understanding. Then he raises an eyebrow “Ibiza in January?”

Cristiano raises two eyebrows in return “Greece in January?”

Leo laughs “I asked Geri the same thing.”

“I made you hot chocolate with marshmallows,” Cristiano announces, placing a warm cup on the table next to Leo “Even though you know what my stance on these vitamin-killing, sugar-filled white demons is.”

Leo shivers “Thanks,”

Cristiano narrows his eyes at him “Are you shivering?”

“No,” Leo hurries to reply. He tugs at his sleeves, burying himself deeper into the couch and shivers again “I’m not shivering.”

Cristiano clicks his tongue, shaking his head in parent-like disapproval “You’re going to freeze to death if you just stay glued to the couch all day. We can’t have that.”

Leo spreads his arms out to the sides “Then come here and warm me up.”

Cristiano crosses his arms and leans against the table, watching him in amusement “I have a better idea.” he announces.

Leo tilts his head to the side “A better idea than cuddles?” he asks incredulously.

Cristiano laughs “Have patience, you cuddle-hungry monster!” he walks over to the couch and stops a few feet away from Leo. Cristiano places a hand on his hip “Wanna know what’s the best way to warm up?” he asks him with a smirk.

Leo doesn’t have a good feeling about it “What?” he asks cautiously.

Cristiano’s smirk widens “Sports.”

Leo throws his head back against the pillow and groans “You’re the one who was stuck in the office this entire time,” he exclaims accusingly “And I just got a break!” he picks up a pillow and throws it in Cristiano’s direction, but the other catches it easily in his hands.

“Come on,” he presses “You’re the one who’s been complaining about the cold the entire day.”

Eventually Leo finds himself outside in his garden, dressed in more clothes than he remembers owning, forced to do physical activity against his own will. He’s wearing a pair of albiceleste shorts above thick, black winter sweats and blaugrana gloves that make his hands look twice their actual size.

There’s no snow, but there’s a small layer of frost covering the grass under their feet and whenever Leo opens his mouth to breathe or say something, a small cloud of whitish mist leaves his mouth.

Cristiano changed into a pair of sweats he forgot at Leo’s place the last time he came over and a grey beanie he borrowed (without permission) from his closet. He’s rubbing his hands together, occasionally jumping up in the air to keep the blood flowing through his body.

“There’s going to be snow by Christmas,” he states confidently. Maybe it’s just the reflection of the lights playing visual tricks, but his eyes light up slightly at the idea, and if getting to see Cristiano like this, so excited and happy over such small things, means that Leo has to risk freezing to death outside, then he’s absolutely ready to do it.

“Didn’t we go outside to do sports?” Leo asks, kicking the grass under his feet. It tears apart the frost covering it, making the grass greener where he stepped.

Despite all the various suggestions and ideas Cristiano proposed and came up with, in the end they still go with football. Because as much as Leo complains sometimes, it’s his favourite thing to do, and if he had to, he would do it all day. It also adds a lot that Cristiano is ridiculously good for somebody who doesn’t play professionally; Leo hasn’t played with anyone except the training machines in the gym in forever, and Cristiano is a worthy opponent to say the least.

“What’s on the other side of the fence?” Cristiano asks suddenly, stopping the ball in the middle of the movement with his foot.

Leo stops and looks over in the direction the other pointed in. Leo swallows and replies, letting the words out between pants “Luis’ house. And then Masche’s,” despite how cold it is outside, he’s feeling warmer than he has throughout the entire day. Damn Cristiano for always being right about anything related to health “But they aren’t here right now,” he adds “I think they all went to some park thing with their kids.”

Cristiano turns around to face Leo, and the mischievous smirk on his face can’t possibly promise anything good.

“Leo,” he says slowly “Can you cross me the ball?”

Leo freezes. He looks at Cristiano, then at the fence “What are you trying to do?” he’s afraid he already knows the answer.

Cristiano just widens his grin.

Leo throws his arms up in the air “No!”

Cristiano folds his hands together in a prayer “Please!”

“No, Cris, I’m not participating in this!” Leo says, but his protest becomes weaker and weaker with each second he spends looking at Cristiano making a semi-innocent, pleading expression.

“Come on, Leo! Please! You give the best crosses!” His smile widens when he sees Leo pick up the ball and get into position to cross the ball. “Thank you!” he exclaims.

Leo looks up with an annoyed look in his eyes. In a way, he’s worse than Geri, Leo thinks. He can say no to Geri’s stupid pranks and ideas, but he could never say no to Cristiano. It’s probably not a very good thing.

“I’m not gonna do anything like that ,” Cristiano hurries to add “I just wanna see if I can kick it all the way over to Mascherano’s garden.”

Leo shakes his head as he positions the ball and steps back, preparing to shoot. He has no idea why he’s doing this. “Masche is going to be so mad.”

Cristiano swears up and down that he won’t hit any windows and jogs over to the centre of the lawn. Leo crosses the ball perfectly to where he’s standing. Somehow, he’s not surprised when Cristiano sends it spinning into the air, the unreal curl of the motion making it fly all the way over Luis’ house and disappear behind the fence. They can both hear a loud noise of something hard hitting metal. Leo winces.

Cristiano throws his hands up in victory “Yes!”

Leo covers his mouth with a hand “Oh god, how am I going to explain this to him.. What if we broke his car?”

Cristiano jumps in the air to celebrate and spreads his arms out to the sides “Sii!” he exclaims loudly and then collapses down to the grass with a laugh.

The entire thing is completely ridiculous, and Leo wants to laugh too, but suddenly there’s a strong ringing in his ears and his head is spinning. He grabs his head, shutting his eyes, and drops down to the grass, unable to keep his balance.

There’s a flash of red and blue; then white. There’s fans chanting, the commentators’ voices echoing; there’s him standing in the lineup, shaking hands with the rival players. There’s.. There’s..

It’s all gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Leo lying on the grass, chest heaving rapidly. He remembers. He remembers something , but he doesn’t know what it is yet. He just has a feeling.

He looks over just in time to catch Cristiano sitting up, frowning when he notices Leo lying on the grass. “You alright?” he asks.

Leo nods, forcing himself to appear normal “I just slipped,” he lies.

Cristiano snorts “How did you manage?” he gets up and offers Leo a hand, pulling him up to his feet “Feeling warmer now?” he asks, voice still painted with concern as he brushes the grass off Leo’s jacket.

Leo sets all of the swirling emotions in his head aside. He’ll think about that later “Yeah,” he nods “Much warmer.”

When Cristiano leaves, Leo sprints up the stairs into his bedroom and turns on his computer. He clicks on the google search bar and starts typing.

>Cristiano |

He stops and glances up at the screen. He can hear Geri’s voice echoing in his head. Oh, that’s Ronaldo .

>Cristiano Ronaldo |

He hits enter.

Leo spends the next hour or so reading articles and watching videos on youtube. He tries reading the comments section too, but one glance at the first few sentences is enough to quickly close the tab and not make any further attempts at looking at it.

He leans back in the chair, staring at the screen. It all makes sense now. He can’t believe he didn’t put the puzzle pieces together sooner.

“Cristofer Romano, he said, huh?” Leo shakes his head “Smart.”

He’s still staring at his computer when his phone buzzes an hour later. Leo picks it up and glances at the screen.

> Masche : why is there a football in my lilies?

A day before he leaves to Argentina with Kun and Masche, Sergi and his girlfriend invite him and Luis over. Leo has nothing better to do anyway, so he goes. When they arrive, Mats, Rafa and André Gomes are already there.

It hits Leo suddenly, when he’s left alone in the kitchen with him, that André plays with both of them.

“What’s my relationship with Cristiano like?”

André looks up at him and blinks.

“Ronaldo,” Leo clarifies “Cristiano Ronaldo.”

André lets out a strange laugh and rubs the back of his neck “Well, it’s,” he sticks his lower lip out in a wordless ‘I don’t know’. “You’re both all- big and cool and important.. And people are always fighting over who’s better,”

“No, no, I meant-” Leo sighs. He doesn’t know what he meant. He tries again anyway “I meant what’s my relationship with him really like.” he looks at André, searching his eyes for something he can’t name himself yet “You play with both of us. What do I usually say about him, what does he say about me? Not what other people think that we think.. What do we actually think.” it’s a lot, a lot to ask for, there are thousands over thousands of articles out there trying to explain exactly this, and he’s demanding answers from the kid just because he happened to play for both Barcelona and the Portuguese NT. Leo is about to take his question back, tell him to not bother cracking his head over it, when André answers.

“You don’t actually have any kind of relationship,” he says “Personal, that is. It’s all the hype around you that makes it look like you do, but that’s not really true.” he pauses, playing with the spoon in his hand.

“You don’t talk about each other that much,” he continues “But the only times I heard you mentioning Cris or him mentioning you was always..” he stops, searching for the right word to apply “in a respectful and professional manner? I can even recall him praising you on occasions.” he flips the spoon over and places it down, on top of his tea mug “So don’t let all of the exaggerated jokes Geri and Masche make get to you. There’s nothing to you two besides game. Cris is a nice guy, overall.”

Leo hums “I’m sure he is.”

André takes his tone wrong “Sorry, I know, this isn’t very helpful,” he gives him a sheepish smile.

“No, no,” Leo places a hand on his forearm “Actually, this was very helpful,” he smiles “Thank you.”

They sit there for a moment longer before Leo grabs his own mug, stands up and motions at the living room “Let’s join the others?”

Leo gets a call from Cristiano exactly a day after he gets back from Argentina. It’s actually kind of endearing, that he remembers his return date.

Leo has already thought about it during his vacations, and decided to not say anything. If Cristiano wants to tell him, he will. Actually, Leo is more interested to find out just how long the other is willing to put up the act.

They decide to meet up in a small cafe a bit outside of Barcelona. Leo still needs to call a mechanic to come see what’s wrong with his car, so he tells Luis he needs to go pick up his tv from the repair lab and takes his jeep.

“Do you have any idea how many calories there are in that thing?”

Leo stops in the middle of the bite, turning to glare at Cristiano with an alfajor cookie in his mouth.

“Mind your own business,” he mutters, the words coming out slurred and heavily muffled. He’s still pretty sure Cristiano understood him anyway.

The other shakes his head in disapproval, but there’s a fond smile tugging at his lips “And to think that you call yourself a professional athlete.”

Leo hurries to swallow down the alfajor without even chewing it properly so he can respond “Well, have fun eating salads and granola bars all day.”

“Actually,” Cristiano rests his chin against his fist, leaning on the counter and turning his head to look at Leo with a raised eyebrow “Did you know that an average granola bar, advertised as ‘healthy’ and ‘sugar free’ by its producers, contains at least fifty percent of-”

Leo covers his ears, tuning out the rest of the sentence “Stop ruining my appetite,” he whines “I won’t be able to eat anything but carrots after this.”

Cristiano looks rather pleased with the prospect of it “I should produce my own line of healthy granola bars,” he announces matter-of-factly “I’ll call them sugar-free-kicks and you’ll get a free supply of ten tons per year.”

Leo laughs “I think I’ll pass,” he says, only half jokingly. He can only imagine what granola bars produced by Cristiano would look like. Their ingredients would probably just be pure broccoli.

He picks up another alfajor cookie and glances at Cristiano, who’s fiddling with his phone now “You’re going back to Madrid after this?” Leo asks casually, pushing the cookie into his mouth. This time, thankfully, Cristiano doesn’t comment on it.

The other lets out a sigh “Yeah,” he drawls “We’re having a bit of a busy period at work right now. Holidays end soon and then we have a,” he pauses, searching for a word. Leo can see it now, can see the analogy he failed to see before “sort of a contest thing with our main rival company. So there’s a lot of work to do.” The lie slips out so easily, like he’s already used to it by now. He probably is, Leo realises. He isn’t sure if it makes him angry or sad.

Leo nods, acting oblivious. He knows, he wants to say that he knows, but he isn’t sure what it will mean for the special connection they managed to create in the past half year. So he just nods again and says “I see.”

They decide to head home some time after that and Cristiano insists on walking Leo to his car, even though he parked it god knows where.

Leo shivers and pulls his scarf over his mouth. It’s snowing; it’s been snowing for the past couple of days, just like Cristiano predicted. It will be Christmas in a few days, which is probably a good thing, but the only thing Leo’s mind can focus on is the upcoming Clásico that will come just a month after that. It’s too little time; they have too little time.

The movement doesn’t escape Cristiano’s watchful eyes “You’re shivering again,” he says, the words almost an accusation.

Leo frowns “I’m fine,” he retorts. He’s cold but he’ll be damned if he’s going to admit it.

Cristiano shakes his head “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“I won’t .”

The other rolls his eyes at his stubbornness. Leo buries his nose deeper into the warm scarf, looking away, but then there’s a movement behind him and the next moment he feels a jacket being wrapped around his shoulders.

Leo looks up and blinks at him “What about you?” he asks dumbly, fingers clutching around the sleeves of the jacket.

Cristiano shrugs, averting his eyes to the side “I’m fine,” he replies casually. His cheeks are tinted a light pink, but somehow Leo has a feeling that it’s not only because of the cold.

He feels a shy smile tugging at his lips “Thanks.”

He finally gathers the courage to tell Cristiano when they reach Luis’ jeep and the other is about to head back to his own car.

“The club said I can play this Clásico.”

Cristiano freezes. He looks at Leo, all of his raw emotions written on his face. Leo gets an overwhelming urge to grab his face and scream at him that it changes nothing .

“And you agreed?”

Leo nods. He looks at his feet, unable to take in Cristiano’s open expression “I already remember most things, and Doctor Ramirez said that the game might finally trigger the rest of the memory.”

Cristiano nods slowly “I see.”

Leo waits. He waits to see if Cristiano will finally drop the act and tell him; he almost wishes he would.

“I..” Leo’s eyes snap up to look at him. For a moment, Cristiano looks like he’s actually going to just give in and confess everything. But then the moment is gone and he presses his lips into a thin smile “Good luck. I’ll be watching.”

Leo nods “Okay.”

Leo spends New Years’ with Geri, Luis, Masche and their families.

“Wooow!” Milan exclaims when he tears the colourful box open “Dad, this is super duper cool!”

Luis steals a glance at the box the kid is holding in his hands “Oh, wow, Geri, is that an air drone?”

Geri grins widely “You bet!” he looks almost as excited as Milan himself at the idea, if not more “It’s a simpler model, made especially for kids,” he explains passionately “so it’s easy to control them and stuff, and the damage is not as big if it accidentally hits something.”

Masche snorts “Thinking about switching careers?”

Leo misses Geri’s answer, distracted by his buzzing phone. He fishes it out of his pocket, looking at the screen. It’s Cristiano.

“Sorry guys, I gotta take it, I’ll be back in a sec,” he stands up and walks toward the terrace, away from all the noise.

He accepts the call and presses the phone to his ear “What’s up, Cris?”

“What the fuck is this, Leo?”

Leo feels his lips twist into a smile. He knows exactly what Cristiano is talking about, but it’s more fun to pretend that he doesn’t “So I take it you got my present?”

“I’m- It’s not- This is-” Cristiano splutters, at a complete loss of words “What made you think this is a good idea?”

Leo laughs. There are certain benefits to not having Cristiano know that he knows. He got the idea while he was shopping for presents in Barcelona. He came across a shop with Barça-themed Christmas sweaters, and before he could change his mind Leo’s already picked the one with his name on the back and packed it in a box, scribbling down Cristiano’s address as soon as he got home.

“You should wear it,” he suggests playfully.

“I’m not wearing it.”

“Come on, Cris,” Leo says, drawling out his name “Weren’t you the one who said that you can make anything look good?” he teases.

There’s a silence on the other end of the line “That’s…” Leo can hear the conflict in his voice, torn between his principles and his ego “..true.” he admits finally.

Leo grins “I bet you could pull it off even better than me.”

“Of course I can,” Cristiano replies, like it’s not even up for debate “But I’m still not wearing it.”

There’s a strong crash coming from behind him, loud enough for even Cristiano to hear through the phone.

“What was that?”

“Umm,” Leo turns around, pulling the door aside to peek into the living room. The Christmas tree is lying on the floor, Luis is down on the couch laughing, Masche is yelling at Geri and Benjamin and Milan have cake smeared all over their faces. “I think Geri crashed the drone Milan got into the Christmas tree.”

Cristiano sticks true to his word and doesn’t wear it. However, when a few hours later he sends Leo a snap of him with his family, Leo can see the sweater carefully folded on one of the couches behind them. It’s more than enough.

El Clásico comes too fast, too soon and Leo is not ready. He spends the entire morning before the match staring at his phone, wondering if he should text Cristiano. He doesn’t.

Cristiano doesn’t look at him when they’re lining up to go outside in the tunnel, despite Leo’s very obvious staring. He exchanges a few words with Modric, slaps Ramos on the back, whispers something into Marcelo’s ear and goes to the back of the line, purposefully ignoring Leo’s gaze.

Leo doesn’t have the time to figure out whether he’s angry or just upset because the next second Sergi jumps on him from behind, accompanied by Geri’s loud self, and his mind is already elsewhere.

Camp Nou is loud when he sets foot on the pitch. There are scarfs with his name everywhere, “welcome back” and “we love you” signs held up by the fans. Leo smiles and raises his hands to greet the fans. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling.

It’s almost enough to ignore the stinging in his chest when Cristiano doesn’t even spare him a glance when they shake hands just before the start of the game. Almost.

Leo opens the score thirteen minutes into the game with a beautiful goal from Luis’ assist. He leaps into his arms, the rest of their teammates running over to them in order to celebrate, and Camp Nou goes absolutely crazy.

Cristiano is quick to respond with a free-kick only ten minutes after that. The distance is fairly large, but the ball still flies straight into the net like a lightning bolt.

The match is tense and eventful, with Barcelona coming on top by the end of the first time after Leo assists Paulinho’s goal.

Leo watches the Madrid players walk to their dressing room. He wants to go over there and say “congrats, Cris”, or “good goal, Cris” or even just “Cris”, but it’s neither the time nor the place and in the end he simply follows Geri into their dressing room. He remembers Cristiano’s words suddenly - it’s much more complicated than that - and now, now he thinks he understands.

Cristiano scores another goal in the second half - and it’s gorgeous, Leo thinks, just like him - but his efforts end up being fruitless when Barça scores another goal in the last minutes of the match, ending it in a solid 3-2.

Camp Nou is yelling and jumping, blue and red everywhere, blocking out anything else. It’s like a type of amnesia on its own; when they’re out on the pitch, celebrating like that, Leo doesn’t remember anything, can’t focus on anything but the current moment.

Camp Nou feels like home. Leo remembers home.

Leo lingers back in the dressing room until everyone else leaves, telling Geri and Luis that he’s just a bit overwhelmed and simply needs some time to rest, so they don’t have to wait for him.

He makes sure that Madrid’s dressing room is empty as well and peeks in. Cristiano is not there. Leo stands in the doorway, fists clenched by his sides, feeling the irritation in him grow.

“Asshole,” he mutters under his breath, barely resisting to kick something.

He grabs his duffel bag and marches toward the exit, mentally wondering if it’s still too late to call Geri and Luis and tell them to wait for him.

He stops in his tracks when upon reaching the parking lot, he notes a familiar figure sitting on the stairs.

Cristiano hears him approach and moves to stand up. He looks at Leo and tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans, swaying slightly from one side to the other. The atmosphere radiating off him is unusually shy.

“So.. You remember everything now?”

Leo sighs. He’s still feeling irritated, but he isn’t sure who he’s mad at anymore, Cristiano or just himself.

“Yeah,”

Cristiano nods. “Okay,” he studies the walls of the stadium behind Leo, shifting his weight from one leg to the other “Okay.”

He bends down to pick up his bag and motions at nowhere in particular “I’ll go then,” he says, turning around to walk away.

Leo feels the annoyance bubbling in him again “Hold up,” he says. When Cristiano doesn’t react he drops his bag down to the ground, crosses the distance between them in a few quick strides and grabs him by the elbow “I said hold up!”

Cristiano finally stops and turns to look at him. His expression is indifferent, the one he gave Leo the very first time they saw each other back then, in the hospital; the one he always gives the press. It reminds him of the way they used to look at each other before everything happened and despite his better judgment, it makes him angry.

“What’s the deal with you?” Leo explodes finally. He’s tired of keeping his emotions bottled up, he thought remembering things would make everything easier, but instead things just got even more complicated. There’s a lot of feelings surging through his mind - hurt at being lied to, offence at not being trusted, anger at being ignored and general injustice about the way things are.

“What was all of that about? What did you think, that you would tell me the truth and I would say oh, no thanks ?” He feels a pressure building up behind his eyes but oh no, Leo is not going to cry, not right now “Or that Geri would come and say don’t talk to him, he’s a dick ? Is your opinion of me really that low?”

“Yes, Leo!” Cristiano snaps finally, throwing his arms up in frustration “Yes, that’s exactly what I thought - and no, it has nothing to do with my opinion of you!”

“Why?!” Leo exclaims, feeling helpless. Everything was going so well, he doesn’t understand.

“Because-” Cristiano splutters “Because we already had a chance to meet each other like this . And we both know it didn’t work. And- and this was like a second chance. Have you ever tried to imagine what it would be like, to get to know each other under normal circumstances, without all of this stupid fucking rivalry hype around us?” Cristiano looks at him and it suddenly hits Leo that he’s just as frustrated and hurt about the entire thing as he is.

“I-” Cristiano shuts his eyes for a moment and pinches the bridge of his nose “God, the first time I had an actual chance to really talk to you I was already basically allergic to the word ‘Messi’ because the only context I’ve ever heard it being used in was to somehow bring me down or ridicule me. I-” he lets out a shaky sigh and lets his arms drop back down by his sides in surrender “This.. This isn’t about us .”

Leo feels the fight slowly leaving his body. He sits down on the stairs, staring at the asphalt underneath his feet. Not knowing sucked, but knowing sucks even more.

And the worst thing is that Cristiano is right. He’s right. It’s not up to them; that’s not how football works. Ramos can ask the fans to not whistle Geri when they play for Spain and they’ll still do that, because at the end of the day, it’s not up to them. And similarly, the press won’t just magically stop talking about them the way it does just if he and Cristiano stood up and said ‘stop’.

“I’ve known for a while now,”

Cristiano’s eyes snap over to look at Leo “What?” he looks lost for a moment, blinking a couple of times blankly before asking “How.. How long?”

Leo keeps his head down, staring at the ground. His throat feels strangely dry “I.. Remember that one time you came over, before Christmas? When you kicked the ball over to Masche’s house?” Leo lets out a chuckle but it comes out rather humorless “It.. It must’ve triggered something. Because I started slowly remembering things after that.”

He can hear Cristiano approach him. Leo still doesn’t look up, but from the corner of his eye he can see Cristiano move to sit down next to him on the stairs.

“But you- you never said anything.” Cristiano’s voice is raw, vulnerable, all of his usual defenses down, completely down “You don’t.. You don’t mind?” and there’s something so heartbreakingly hopeful in his voice.

Leo looks up. Cristiano’s eyes are slightly glossy when he looks at him and it makes Leo feel better about his own stinging at the corners of his eyes “I.. I never said I minded.” he manages weakly.

Cristiano’s eyes are searching his face “I.. The entire match you were- so I thought-” he trails off, giving up on an explanation. Some things just don’t need one “But I never said I minded either, Leo,” he says, somewhat desperate “I never said that.”

Leo leans back, resting against his palms and looks up. It’s already getting dark, but the street lights aren’t on yet, so the very first stars can be seen in the sky above them.

“You said it’s not about us,” Leo murmurs slowly “but maybe.. Maybe we can make it be about us.” it’s a selfish desire, but they could at least try.

They’ve managed to make so many things be about them without even trying: La Liga, El Clásico, the Ballon d’Or, any attacking award that exist out there. Maybe if they try hard enough, this little thing will be about them as well.

When Cristiano replies, his voice is different from before. It’s more peaceful, calmer “I read a quote somewhere a while ago.. And I think I agree with it. Our identity has already been chosen for us; but it is up to us to accept it, or fight and change it.”

Leo turns to look at him. He smiles - a small, sincere smile, and Cristiano returns it.

Maybe that wasn’t the second chance. Maybe this is. Maybe this is their chance to start over, without either of them being stupid about it.

“The spring gala is soon,” the other says suddenly, the familiar playful smirk on his face again “We could make some mouths drop,”

Leo chuckles. He can only begin to imagine what kind of ideas are going through Cristiano’s head “We could wear matching suits?” he proposes innocently.

Cristiano’s expression turns serious “Under one condition,” he says meaningfully “I choose the suits.”

Leo laughs, loud and reliving “Sure you will,”

“Luis,”

Luis keeps staring at his phone “What?”

“Luuuuiiiiis,” the other drawls, tugging on his sleeve.

“What is it, Geri?” Luis snaps, tearing his gaze away from the phone to glare at the defender. Having to deal with an impatient Geri is worse than having to deal with a tired kid, in a way. You can put a kid to sleep but you can’t do that to a huge, stubborn, almost-2-meters-tall football player.

Geri pouts “When is Leo coming? It’s almost midnight already,”

Luis rolls his eyes and goes back to scrolling through his feed “He’ll be back soon, really, he probably took a taxi or asked someone to give him a lift.” he squints and glances at the other man judgingly “if you’re so impatient you can go home and I’ll wait for him here.”

Geri grumbles something under his breath and rolls over to his stomach. He manages to keep his mouth shut only for one minute before speaking up again “We shouldn’t have left him alone.”

“You’re just being paranoid, Geri,” Luis assures him “Leo is capable of taking care of himself.”

It’s exactly then that they hear the gates of the house opening and a car making its way inside.

Geri jumps up from the couch “Oh!”

Luis smiles and leans back, relaxing against the pillows “Told you.”

Geri heads toward the door and opens it with one swift motion “Leo, I know you told us to not wait for you-” he stops in his tracks “Luis.”

Luis wants to be annoyed, but there’s something alarmingly serious in Geri’s voice “What?”

“Luis, come here. Now.”

Luis gets off the couch and walks over to the front door, standing in the doorway next to Geri “What did you- Oh.”

He can see Leo, who’s already gotten out of the car. He’s standing next to it, his bag slung over his shoulder, leaning against the open door slightly as he talks to somebody inside the car.

That somebody is Cristiano Ronaldo.

“Take care,” Ronaldo says as he pulls Leo’s head down to place a friendly kiss on his cheek.

Leo complies, pressing a light peck to Ronaldo’s cheek in return “You too,” he says with a smile “Text me when you get back.”

Ronaldo flashes him a smile “Of course,” he pulls the seat belt over his chest and sets the car back into motion “Talk to you soon!”

Leo waves at him. It all looks absolutely natural, like they’ve been doing it forever “Bye!”

When Ronaldo turns the car around and starts driving away, his eye catches Geri and Luis, standing at the doorway. He smirks and raises a hand to give them a salute. Geri’s jaw drops down even further.

“I- This is- What the-” he swirls around and stares at Luis “Punch me. I’m stuck in a nightmare.”

Before Luis can respond, Leo appears in front of them, a ridiculously wide smile on his face “Hi guys,” he greets them. He tilts his head to the side, blinking at them innocently “What’s up?” When neither of them gives a proper answer he shrugs and pushes inside, past them.

Geri’s eyes suddenly widen in realisation. He turns around, gaping at Luis, and whispers “Wait.. It can’t.. Is Ronaldo the Cristofer Leo’s been talking about this entire time?”

Luis’ lips widen, forming a smile. He cocks an eyebrow, enjoying the shock on Geri’s face “You just figured it out now?”

He turns around and goes back into the living room, where Leo is sitting, leaving Geri still gaping at the door “How are you feeling, Leo?”

Leo gives him a smile “Better than ever.”