Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Luka is slowly heading off the pitch, trying his best to hide the discomfort in his left shin. Sergio falls in step with him.

“That was brutal,” Sergio says, grinning at Luka. He thumps Luka on his back, not hard enough to send him stumbling but it’s a near thing.

Luka swipes his hair off his face. “Thanks.”

It’s not like his goal twelve minutes before the end of the match was all that important, the score went up from 3-1 to 4-1, but it sure felt nice to be the one who put it in the net.

“We’re back in the game, we’re back!”

Luka doesn’t share Sergio’s optimism on that just yet – he’s always cautious of the good things in life because he knows it’s never easy like that. One win that would change everything? Hardly. They’ve fallen behind by way too many points and everyone on the team needs to start pulling their weight or else tonight’s success is going to be forgotten as soon as the weekend is over.

“Hell yeah,” Luka says anyway, trying to feed off Sergio’s enthusiasm. They won tonight, Luka should feel happy. He only feels tired.

Sergio throws his arm around Luka’s shoulder, swaying them from side to side. Luka ducks out from the hold with a chuckle, grabbing Sergio’s hand and pulling it away. His fingers brush a spot close to Sergio’s cover and Luka feels Sergio go still. Luka finishes getting free, glancing up at Sergio. Sergio’s face is open, his eyes are wide, he looks truly happy, high on the victory and with no care for the rest of the world.

Sergio keeps looking at Luka and there’s something odd about it, like Sergio is waiting for Luka to say something or like Sergio is trying to gauge Luka’s reaction. The moment between them stretches but Luka has no idea what he’s supposed to say, what his captain expects of him. “Great match,” Luka tries to enthuse, just to be safe.

Sergio blinks, nods and then he’s turning away, heading to give the post-match interviews.

Luka plops down on the wooden bench in their locker room and leans his head back against the wall, heaving a sigh as he gingerly prods the muscle in his shin. Nothing a long hot shower and a good night’s sleep won’t fix. He’ll have the physio look at it tomorrow.

Luka changes and steps into the shower where he loses track of the time. He massages the twinge out of his leg first, then he shampoos his hair and lets the warm water wash away the biting chill that settled in his bones during the game.

By the time he emerges from the showers it’s more than half an hour later and most of the guys are already gone. Sergio is chattering to Marce, who looks about ready to leave. Sergio is still wearing the sweaty jersey and he doesn’t look like he had a chance to catch his breath yet. He perks up when he spots Luka and soon he waves Marce goodbye and comes over to Luka instead. “Hey, Lukita.”

“Finally done with the interviews?”

Sergio shrugs. “It wasn’t too bad today, Toni came to switch with me, they had more questions for him.”

Because Toni scored the equalizer, Luka muses. “The coach kept you, then?”

“Yeah,” Sergio says.

Luka finishes towelling his hair dry and puts on a shirt, tugs at the sleeves and makes sure his cover isn’t peaking past his cuffs. “How’s Gaz?” He asks Sergio because he would know more than Luka.

“More tests tomorrow,” Sergio reports. “It doesn’t look good.”

With Gareth, it never does. But Luka is not about to point that out as he doesn’t want to put a damper on Sergio’s mood.

There is the odd pause again, like Sergio is giving Luka room to do or say something but Luka has no clue what it is about. He isn’t aware of any huge screw-ups during the game that he caused and Sergio has already commented on Luka’s goal. There’s nothing to discuss right now. There’s nothing to apologise for.

Sergio’s eyes are warm and he doesn’t seem to be angry. He’s obviously tired but that’s about it, as far as Luka can tell. He’s not good at reading people but luckily, if it’s something important, Sergio won’t be able to stay quiet about it, he’s bound to snap and get whatever this is off his chest. Sergio doesn’t do bottling things up inside. If Sergio is angry, he’s angry. None of that ‘it’s fine’ nonsense.

Sergio grabs a towel from his locker and slings it over his shoulder, then dives back into the locker to look for his comb. When he speaks up his head is still in the locker so his voice has a funny metallic echo. “Wanna go grab a bite and celebrate?”

Luka shakes his head even though Sergio can’t see him. “I’ve got a plane to catch early in the morning. I told my mother I’ll visit.” He has passports to find, luggage to pack and phone calls to make. They’re still five points behind where they should be in La Liga standings, there’s nothing to celebrate, not really.

“Oh, okay,” Sergio says and maybe it’s just Luka projecting but it sounds like Sergio is disappointed.

Luka feels a sudden need to defend his decision. “I haven’t seen her in a while and we’ve got a few days off. The last time I was in Croatia was a bit… hectic, after the World Cup and all that.”

Sergio lets out a chuckle. “I can imagine.”

Luka makes a vague sound in throat. Sergio knows what it feels like to win a World Cup with his NT and Luka knows what it’s like to almost win. “Next time?”

“Sure. Have a safe flight.”

“Thanks,” Luka says as he finishes getting dressed. He spares a quick glance at his locker to make sure he hasn’t left anything important behind and slings his bag over his shoulder.

Luka makes it several steps to the door before Sergio calls out, “Oh, hey, Luka.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to bring me back that mar… mar–something, okay?”

“Maraskino,” Luka fills in. “You’ve got it.” As if he could forget.

Chapter Text

Being back home is wonderful – for maybe about a day or so and then he feels like a little kid again, with his mother monitoring his every move. Luka has to stay vigilant all the time to keep his secret safe which is exhausting and stretches him thin the longer it goes on. It’s so much easier in Madrid where no one expects him to be open about his soulmark. Soulmarks are a private thing, no one goes around asking people to show them their mark.

He’s glad to have his phone as a distraction from all the supervising.

“Who are you talking to on that phone?”

Luka glances up to meet his mother’s curious gaze. He pockets the phone and tries to wipe the fond smile off his face. “Just texting a teammate,” he says. There’s nothing secretive about the texts he exchanges with Sergio but Luka doesn’t want to tell his mother everything. There are things she wouldn’t understand anyway.

His mother’s eyes narrow. “That’s suspiciously vague, Luka. Are you sure it’s not a girl? I saw you smiling just now.”

“Mother,” he says briskly, feeling embarrassed. He hopes he’s not blushing. It’s been just one of Sergio’s stupid random texts. Just yesterday Sergio sent him, Apparently, some horses are afraid of spiders. I can relate. Now the text reads, Did you know horses can get spooked by their own farts? Painful discovery. Ouch.

To Luka’s I thought you weren’t supposed to ride during the season?, Sergio promptly responded with If you tell on me then I’ll get you and your chocolate stash busted! and how could he not smile at that.

His mother comes to sit at the table next to him. “Luka,” she starts softly and Luka instinctively bristles. That tone of voice means trouble. There aren’t many things that call for that particular tone.

Luka folds his arms and meets his mother’s eyes. “There’s no girl, mother. I haven’t met her yet.”

His words hang in the air between them for a moment. He knows he surprised her by correctly predicting what she was about to ask him.

Luka trails his fingers along the frill of the table cloth, then he wiggles his pinkie finger into one of the picots of the lace. His mother notices and presses her lips thin. Luka quickly snatches his hand away before he gets a scolding. He suddenly doesn’t know where to put his arms. Crossing his arms again would look like he’s trying to distant himself from her, leaning back and placing his hands on the armrest of the chair would look like he’s bored. He briefly clasps his hands together in his lap but it’s awkward and he’s holding himself all stiff.

His mother doesn’t ask any more questions, she just reaches over and catches his restless hands. Luka stills. “You’ll meet her when the time is right,” she says quietly.

Luka has trouble swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.

She gives his hands a squeeze. “You’ll make your father and I proud one day,” she adds.

Lying to his family is the hardest part of this, Luka thinks. At moments like this one, he’s very aware of the unbridgeable chasm between her world and his. He hopes she never finds out – he hopes he never disappoints her and hurts her so deeply.

“Mother,” he starts but he has nothing to say. He falls silent.

There must be something on his face that he doesn’t manage to school fast enough and she catches a glimpse of the dark, haunted expression.

She brings his hands to her lips and gives him a quick kiss before letting go and raising to her feet. “Maybe you wouldn’t have to keep torturing yourself if you let me–”

“No.”

“Why not? Luka, why are you doing this to yourself? Living without your soulmate is making you all miserable and while it’s fated that you’ll meet her, I don’t see why you would just sit around and wait for it to happen instead of trying to find her.”

“I’m not letting you set me up on any more dates, mother,” he says, trying to sound firm. He can’t cope with another date with a girl named Spomenka that will be hoping she is his soulmate.

His mother holds her chin up, the challenge clearly written in her eyes. “Is that your final word?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, then. I won’t try to arrange any more meetings for you. If you want to keep being miserable then you can do whatever you want. It’s your life, after all. You’re an adult, I can’t tell you what to do.”

“Mother,” he says, sheepish.

“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to listen to me anymore, you’re not eight. I realize that,” she says primly. “Let me just get on the phone. I need to call Mirica and tell her not to send her daughter over for the afternoon visit like she was meant to do.” She crosses the room to get to her phone that she always leaves lying on the shelf in the dining room instead of carrying it everywhere with her in her pocket. “She’s supposed to bring me their homemade lavender oil, you know? I guess now I’ll have to go there and get it from them myself. And of course I’ll have to come up with some believable excuse as to why you don’t want to meet her sweet and charming darling of a daughter.”

Guilt. The emotion that’s choking him is guilt, deep rooted to his core. “You already asked her to come over?”

“The moment you said you’ll be visiting us here this week, yes,” his mother confirms. She doesn’t sound particularly bothered by doing all that behind Luka’s back. “Luka,” she says as she sits down with him again, placing the phone on the table. “I don’t understand why you don’t want to meet your soulmate. When I was your age, I–”

“I know, mother,” he interrupts quickly to save himself listening to the familiar tale that she always makes sound more like a reprimand.

His mother falls silent but she watches him expectantly.

Luka studies the stitching of the table cloth. “Maybe it isn’t the right time to meet my soulmate, mother. I have my career to consider. I have to focus on that now and maybe if I meet her before we were meant to meet, everything would change.” He thinks it’s an elegant lie, a believable one. There is even a grain of truth in it – he doesn’t want to trade playing football for having a soulmate.

He holds his breath as he waits for his mother’s answer.

“So you want to wait your life away,” his mother summarizes. “Fine. But what do I tell Mirica?”

He doesn’t have the strength to fight her. She wouldn’t understand and he would only end up hurting her. She has none of his grandfather’s kind understanding.

“Tell her I’d be happy to meet her daughter,” Luka hears himself saying.

With a smug expression, his mother cups his cheek and then gets up to place the phone back to its usual place.

Chapter Text

Someone raps on the kitchen window and when Luka and his mother look up, they see a young girl standing there, staring at them. She has definitely seen both of them so Luka’s half-hatched plan of sneaking out and claiming not to be home falls flat before he could even work out the execution.

His mother jumps from the table, waving at her. “Hello!” She calls out. “Come on in,” she adds, gesturing. A tad quieter, she tells Luka, “That’s Spomenka, Mirica’s daughter.”

As if he couldn’t tell. He nods anyway and his mother gives him a nudge. “What are you waiting for? Go get the door!”

Luka walks over to the door, trying and failing to erase the frown on his face.

“Hi,” he says, extending his hand to Spomenka.

“Hi,” she returns and stares at his hand as if it was a venomous snake. Then she pushes past him into the room without waiting for his invitation. All right then, it’s going to be one of those dates.

“Spomenka, darling, it’s so great to have you here,” Luka’s mother calls from the doorway to the kitchen. “Oh, here, let me help you with that,” she says and gives Luka a pointed glare.

Spomenka’s arms are full, Luka only notices when his mother takes the baskets and boxes from her. He’d been a bit too busy staring at her pink hair that she’s braided into two long pigtails.

His mother starts putting the things away; there’s the lavender oil, a bouquet of fresh lavender, some biscuits and god knows what else that Mirica is sending them. Luka leads Spomenka out to the patio, the small oasis of peace.

They sit down, an awkward silence ensuing. They stare at each other and Luka wonders if she’s disappointed not to feel any spark between them. He knew nothing would happen of course – but maybe she had been keeping her hopes up. It’s quite unfair to do this to her, to agree to a meeting he knows won’t bring anything just because he can’t stand his mother’s nagging.

Luka clears his throat. “Um. I have to admit my mother didn’t tell me much about you.” Next to nothing. “So I was wondering, how was your summer?”

“Good,” she says curtly. She seems to be about as thrilled to be here as Luka is.

“Are you from Zagreb or somewhere else?” Luka tries again.

“I’m from here.”

Luka hates talking to people he doesn’t know. Especially if he didn’t even know said people existed an hour ago. He can never tell what they’re thinking but Spomenka doesn’t seem to be bothered by the silence that stretches between them again. She idly plays with one of her pigtails, not caring enough to meet his eye. Maybe she didn’t get any say about whether or not she wanted to meet him. She looks young. God, she looks so young Luka almost feels insulted his mother would think she was the right age to meet him as her soulmate. Maybe in a few years the difference wouldn’t be so gaping but right now he can’t understand why would his mother arrange their meeting. This would be as good argument as any that it’s always best not to try forcing the meeting of two soulmates. All in due time.

“Did your mother quilt-trip you into meeting me?” He asks and finally gets a reaction. She looks up and studies his face for a moment before a tentative smile appears on her face.

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” Luka admits. “No sense in rushing the natural course of things, right?”

Spomenka makes a noncommittal noise, crosses her legs and stops playing with her hair.

“Sorry to get your hopes up,” he says.

Spomenka shakes her head, then openly says, “It’s fine, I don’t want you.”

Despite himself, Luka has to chuckle. “Well, that’s a relief.”

As an afterthought, she adds, “No offence.”

“None taken.”

“I hope you meet your Spomenka, soon,” she tells him and the name rolls out all wrong from her mouth. That’s not the name of his soulmate and he has to bite in the knee-jerk instinct to correct her.

“Thank you, you too,” he says softly. “Hope you meet the right Luka. To be honest I’m not really looking to meet my soulmate right now. It’s not the right time.”

She pauses, then laughs. “Does your mum know that? Because – wow, that could have saved us a lot of time.”

Luka forces out a chuckle. Of course his mother knows. She has simply chosen to ignore his decision because she thinks she knows what is best for him. Ever since Luka had let her see the name, she has been on a mission to find his Spomenka. He can’t afford to have her study his so-called soulmark from up close – she might realize it’s not a soulmark at all. He just lets her catch glimpses of the name here and there, to make sure she thinks everything is normal.

“Ha, ha,” Luka says and hopes it sounds natural. “You’re right. That would have saved us a lot of time.” If only he could bring himself to tell his mother to stop setting him up on dates with all the Spomenkas she could find. “Again, I hope you meet your Luka. Sorry to disappoint but it’s not me.”

He wonders when Mirica told her she would be meeting him. He only learnt about her today but who knows how long she was stressing over this meeting. He feels unbidden anger rise in him. Not at her or Mirica but at his own mother for always trying to get her way because she simply thinks it is the best way for her children.

“Actually,” Spomenka starts but then has to break off to stop laughing. Her giggles are high-pitched and a little annoying. Luka’s glad she’s not his soulmate and he won’t have to see her ever again. Spomenka finally stops laughing and she throws a quick glance over her shoulder before leaning a bit closer to him. “My soulmate’s name is Luca and she’s from Hungary.”

Luka’s eyes go wide.

“I’ve already met her, she lives in Velika Kaniža,” she adds, a fond smile playing on her lips.

“That’s not too far,” Luka manages.

“Yeah,” she says and then her bright expression dims. “But neither of our families know. I’m not sure we’re ready for that kind of drama just yet. Luca finishes her school next year and then we can move in together and I can finish my school there. I can’t wait.”

“That sounds nice,” Luka says, envious. She is so brave and unapologetic. Luka knows the times have changed a lot since he was a little kid but he still wishes he could have been as carefree as she is about her mark. She told him, a perfect stranger, without an ounce of shame. She has decided to be with her soulmate despite her family’s disapproval. “I hope things works out for you. I’m sure they’ll come to terms with it.” Eventually.

“Thanks. You too,” she nods to his wrist. “Hope it works out with her.”

Luka could tell her – but he doesn’t. He just considers it for a fleeting moment, imagining what it would be like to have someone know this about him so he wouldn’t feel so alone. The worst part of keeping his secret is that it needs to stay a secret form everyone and there isn’t a single person Luka isn’t deceiving. From his parents to his friends and his teammates, from his team and the fans, no one knows the truth but him. He’s been keeping the secret for years and he can’t risk anyone knowing about it. He can’t risk someone holding that much power over him. He barely knows Spomenka and it would be foolish to tell her just because he can sympathise with the situation Spomenka and her Luca are in.

“Thanks,” he says simply and watches her get up on her feet. He sees her to the door and tries to tune out the way the kitchen floorboards creak as his mother quickly tries to get away from the door where she’s been eavesdropping. Luka can picture her quite easily, as she hastily sits down and picks up her needle and a thread and busies herself with adding a row of six neat petals to her current needle lace project. By the time he comes to join her in the kitchen, she will look like she never left her chair but Luka would know better.

Spomenka doesn’t give him hug but she waves him goodbye, once again wishing him good luck before leaving. She is actually a sweet girl, he has to admit that. His mother means well and she hates to see him miserable. The only trouble is, she can’t help him any with this particular issue. Luka has made his decision and there is no going back now. He’ll never know for sure who his soulmate was supposed to be. Even if he were to meet the person who was meant to be his soulmate, there wouldn’t be any recognition. He only has the memory of the name that used to be on his wrist when he was a little kid. He’ll never feel the spark of the first time meeting. It’s supposed to be electrifying, it’s supposed to steal one’s breath away. Luka has robbed himself of the chance to experience all that. Instead, he has titles and trophies and awards and he gets to do the thing he loves so deeply – he gets to play. That’s all that matters.

“Well?” His mother looks up eagerly from her needlework when Luka returns to the kitchen.

“She seems interesting,” he says. Mirica’s daughter is not exactly what Luka has been picturing. For one thing, Spomenka is too young. She is already taken which Luka hadn’t been expecting either. And most notably, she is braver than he has ever been because she chose to trust her love.

Luka is glad he won’t have to be seeing her again. He’s not sure he could keep himself from thinking about all the what-ifs of the paths his life could have taken and that’s a dangerous thing to consider.

“But?” His mother inquires.

Luka says nothing. His soulmate wasn’t supposed to be a girl but Luka would be the last person to point that out to his mother.

“She’s not your soulmate,” his mother states flatly.

“No. She was too young for me anyway.”

His mother misinterprets the cause of his suddenly bitter expression and she gives his shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll find her, Luka,” she says with conviction, “just don’t lose hope.”

“Thank you, mother,” Luka rasps.

It’s been nice to see his mother again but right now, he can’t wait to be back in Madrid.

Chapter Text

Luka takes it back. It was great to have been back home, where it was his mother doing all the supervising and not him.

“Put that thing down, Sergio.” Luka makes a half-hearted attempt to get the kitchen knife away from Sergio.

Sergio, predictably, holds the knife high up above his head, out of Luka’s reach. “Nu-uh-uh,” he singsongs as he dodges Luka’s fingers.

“Put that thing down before you hurt yourself,” Luka says sternly. He means it, he’s painfully familiar with the tragic track record Sergio has with kitchen utensils.

“But I want to help!”

“Oh,” Luka begins in an overly sweet tone, “in that case, here are the bowls and the bags of chips, get it ready.

Sergio scoffs. “That’s a kid’s job.”

“See? Perfectly suitable.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Sometimes you make me wonder,” Luka says. He eyes the knife and tries to predict the outcome of using the old tickling trick. It could be an easy win or it could result in an accident. Sergio holding a knife is an accident waiting to happen anyway, so after a bit of wavering, Luka takes his chances. He slips his fingers under Sergio’s arms reaching for his ribs and he gets the angle just right – practise makes perfect, after all – and he mercilessly tickles the sensitive spot there.

Sergio squawks but has enough control to set the knife aside on the kitchen counter as he tries to shy away from Luka. “Says you as you tickle me into submission,” Sergio wheezes out in between the chokes of laughter that tear from his mouth. “Not fair, little man, not fair.”

Luka quickly swipes the knife from the counter and starts slicing the zucchini. “Make sure there are chips on every table.”

“Still not a kid,” Sergio says.

Luka shrugs. “Someone has to do it. You wanted to be useful? Then be useful.”

Sergio gives Luka an unimpressed look. “Do I have to remind you that this is my house, my kitchen and my knife–”

“It’s also your fingers and I bet you like them attached to where they are right now, don’t you,” Luka points out.

Sergio’s expression turns into a scowl but he doesn’t have any more arguments.

“Grab the chips and go,” Luka says, waving the knife to point to the veranda.

With an annoyed grumble, Sergio grabs the chips and the bowls. The door slides open and a while later Luka hears the loud clattering as Sergio sets the bowls on the tables.

“Bossy little shit,” Sergio loudly says to himself on the veranda.

In the kitchen, Luka rolls his eyes and grabs the bell peppers to get them sliced as well.

“Ugh,” Sergio says when he sees the state of the sausages Toni has brought with him. “Didn’t your mum teach you not to play with your food?”

Toni gives him a blank stare. “How else would you get the skin all crunchy and the inside tender?”

“The, uh, the spikes are already turning black,” Sergio notes, trying to get Toni to take them off the flame. “There’s a difference between ‘crunchy’ and ‘rapidly becoming a fire hazard’, you know?”

“They’re not done yet, you just have to wait!”

“The skin is cracking open, it’s going to fall off, right into the flames. Dude, this is a mess. This is a massacre of a bratwurst!”

“They’re little… Igel, you know?”

Sergio frowns when he considers the miserable heaps of sausages. “You should get your eyes checked if you think these resemble eagles. Who let you man the grill anyway?”

Toni makes a frustrated noise and nips at Sergio’s hand with the tongs. “Die Igel!”

“Oh hey, is that Marcelo? I think I see him with the beers, he’s talking to Karim,” Luka says quickly and shoves at Sergio to get him moving.

“Took his time,” Sergio grumbles, forgetting all about Toni’s ‘massacre of a bratwurst’ in favour of finding Marce. Where is Marce, there is beer.

Toni keeps glaring at their backs, Luka can feel it. He makes a mental note to send Lucas his way because the guy has a cast-iron stomach and is always happy to try anything Toni attempts to grill.

“I’m not drunk, Sergio, c’mon,” Luka laughs and he’s lying again. He laughs harder. If he gets any better at this, he’ll be able to lie to himself and that will be pretty useful.

Sergio is grinning at him but he’s also keeping Luka’s car keys firmly clasped in his hand. “No way, I’m not letting you go anywhere. You’re staying here with me tonight.”

Luka can’t stop laughing. “No, I’m not.”

“Your room is always ready,” Sergio says.

Luka doesn’t mind sleeping in the guest room but he wants the keys. “Give me the keys.”

Sergio opens his palm and dangles the keychain from his index finger but the moment Luka launches himself at Sergio, he hides the keys in his palm again. Luka trips over Sergio’s feet and breaks his fall against Sergio’s chest. “Whoa, steady there.”

Luka straightens up. “Give me the keys back, Sergio. I swear I’m not driving anywhere, I just want them on me so you don’t lose them again.”

The keys remain in Sergio’s hand and Luka tries to pry Sergio’s fingers open to get them back. He gets his fingers around Sergio’s wrist and then Sergio gasps and flinches away and the keys fall to the ground.

Triumphant, Luka bends over for them. “A-ha!” He stands back up and the world takes a moment to adjust. Luka blinks at Sergio only to find the Spaniard staring at him with his mouth open. “Didn’t think I had it in me, did you!” Luka preens, twirling the keys around his pinkie.

Sergio finally closes his mouth but he still watches Luka oddly. Hah, he should already know Luka can be swift and nifty when he needs to be. Luka pockets the keys.

“Let’s just get you in bed,” Sergio says primly, always the sore loser.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Luka murmurs and it’s so easy to wind his arms around Sergio and plaster himself against his chest that it’s hard to remember why he shouldn’t.

Sergio doesn’t laugh at the joke. He really is a sore loser. But Luka got his keys back so his mood is great.

Sergio helps him climb up the stairs. There are too many stairs but the bed is soft and he falls asleep the moment he lies down.

Chapter Text

Luka wakes up in one of Sergio’s guest rooms. He rubs a hand over his face, groans and waits for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness of the room. The curtains are drawn even though Luka doubts he was so farsighted last night. The room is familiar to him by now because whenever he stays over, he somehow always ends up in here. His toothbrush is in the walk-in bathroom, forgotten from the last time he stayed overnight. He drinks some water straight from the tap, trying to wash the foul taste out of his mouth.

Sergio is nowhere to be found but he likes to go running in the mornings, regardless of the weather. He must be better off after yesterday’s get-together than Luka because Luka, well, he counts it as a success that he wasn’t so hungover to throw up the moment he blinked his eyes open. The mere idea of any strenuous activity makes his stomach turn.

He leaves a sticky note for Sergio on the mirror in the entryway.

Remind me to never ever trust Toni and whatever brand of beer he demands Marce brings.

In truth, Luka blames the rum more than Toni’s beer but he has no idea who brought the rum. It’s easier to point a finger at Toni and blame Luka’s pitiful headache on him.

Luka drives himself back home and crawls back into bed. If anyone asks, he’s jetlagged and he needs to catch up on his sleep to be well rested for the training tomorrow morning. They’re playing Villarreal next.

The following morning after the training, just when Luka is tying up his sneakers, there is a hand on his shoulder. Luka glances up and it’s Sergio, towering over him, lips moving. Luka makes a gesture for Sergio to stop as he reaches for his earbuds. “What?”

“How was Croatia?”

Luka scoots over to let Sergio sit next to him on the bench. “Good, yeah. Good.”

“I want you to tell me all about it,” Sergio says in an obnoxious drawl that makes Luka want to roll his eyes.

“I doubt that.”

“Lukita, you wound me. I haven’t seen you in forever and I want to catch up. Don’t you play hard to get.”

Luka forces out a laugh. “You’ve seen me just the other day. I was there for the team bonding night, remember?”

Sergio quickly raises up two fingers. “A, don’t call it that, you make it sound compulsory and compulsory means no fun,” he says as he curls down his index finger so that only his middle finger is up. “And b, it wasn’t me who was too drunk to remember what he was doing.”

“Shut up,” Luka mumbles, swatting at Sergio’s hand.

“My point is, we barely got to exchange any words. So what do you say? Movie?”

“My head kinda hurts, I don’t think a movie is the best idea right now.”

“Must have been one hell of a headache if it still lasts. Is that why you’ve been listening to music?” Luka opens his mouth to explain but Sergio goes on, “Never mind that. I have just the right movie for you! Real quiet. Real creepy. I swear.”

Luka isn’t saying yes but he can’t force himself to say no to Sergio either. He sighs. “Look, I–”

Sergio interrupts him, “C’mon, it’s not like you’re busy, are you?”

“What do you know?”

Sergio scrunches his face, a small frown appearing on his brow. “Did you have other plans for tonight?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Luka says and ducks his head so his hair falls to his face and his smile isn’t showing.

Sergio folds his arms. “Hah, as if. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Luka puts one earbud back in his ear but he hasn’t hit the play just yet. “You won’t see anything, I don’t kiss and tell.” Sergio is wrong anyway, he hasn’t been listening to music. He’s been listening to a Spanish audiobook because sometimes after he comes back from Croatia, it’s hard to get back in the right mindset and hearing the language helps. Especially if it’s only one speaker with a slow, clear voice and there’s no background noise.

The frown on Sergio’s face deepens. “You don’t date outside of your bond,” he says flatly but then, in a small, confused tone he adds, “do you?”

Luka reaches for the second earbud. “I want a takeout. Thai.”

Sergio grins. “How many cheat days a week are you having, Luka?”

“As many as I need.”

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“I won’t open the door if I don’t see the takeout,” Luka threatens.

Luka has a swimming session scheduled after the morning practise and then he has a massage where he spends the whole fifty minutes with his eyes closed, listening to the audiobook while his muscles are being poked and prodded to the point of it hurting bad rather than good. He doesn’t finish listening to the story, it’s too long for that. The story is complex and there are too many names that sound way too similar and Luka is going to complain loudly the next time Marce tries to give him any tips because the guy who Luka had pinned as the killer ends up getting murdered.

Marco is sitting alone in the team’s canteen when Luka makes it to the lunch. They’re both here a bit early, before the usual rush hour kicks in and most people on the team make it here.

“Hey Luka, you’ve just missed Sergio, he grabbed a snack and went to meet with the training coach,” Marco says when Luka pulls a chair next to the kid.

“I know,” Luka says. His and Sergio’s schedules don’t really meet today. “We won’t meet until tonight.”

“Oh. I see,” Marco says, nodding. “Was there something you needed to talk about?”

“No, no. I don’t like eating alone,” Luka explains. “And I wanted to ask how’s the new dog doing? Do you have any shoes left that aren’t chewed?”

Marco brightens, sets his fork aside and gets his phone, pulling up the gallery that he shows Luka. “Don’t be rude, the puppy is a darling!”

Marco hands over the phone so Luka can flick through the album of the dog. Luka makes a few appreciative noises and laughs when he sees a picture of the dog chewing through a pair of shoes. “I knew it!”

Marco peers at the screen. “Oh yeah, it was a pair of dad’s old ones so it didn’t really matter.”

Luka snorts. “I think your dad would beg to differ.”

Marco snatches the phone back. “I’m getting him a pair of new ones for Christmas. Custom made.”

“Um. That sounds nice,” Luka says.“You’re shopping for Christmas already?”

“I have pretty much everyone figured out, yeah.”

Luka hasn’t even started thinking about what to get everyone for Christmas this year.

Chapter Text

It’s a little after ten when Sergio shows up at Luka’s, shoving the take out boxes into his arms as he toes off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket. He’s wearing a shirt with a truly eye-gouging mix of colours and patterns. Sergio’s dress code for a casual evening is really something else, Luka ponders. And they aren’t even going out.

Sergio sees him staring at the shirt and he pokes Luka in his chest. “You have no fashion sense to speak off.”

Luka looks down at his team-issued sweatshirt. “It’s comfortable.”

“It’s plain. Why don’t you let a bit of colour enter your life?”

“Someone has to compensate for that rainbow clash of yours.”

Sergio snorts and makes his way to the living room. By the time Luka joins him, the opening scene of A Quiet Place is already playing on the flat screen.

“Take a seat, get ready to be scared.” Sergio pats the spot next to him and Luka settles down on the couch, lips curling into an amused smile. It’s nice to see Sergio this relaxed.

“Do your worst.”

“I swear this one will have you wide awake all night.”

“You say that about every horror movie we watch,” Luka points out.

“You’re way too picky,” Sergio says as he opens one of the takeout boxes. He makes a face when he sees the lettuce and quickly switches the larb for Luka’s box and starts wolfing down the satay.

“Maybe it’s just that I’m not as easily scared.”

“Two words. Hailstorm. Umbrella.”

“Two words,” Luka parrots. “Fuck. You.”

Sergio swallows a mouthful and says, “Technically, those were four words.”

Luka gives Sergio a pointed glare and Sergio responds by inhaling his food and turning to watch the movie. Which actually isn’t shaping up to be all that bad, although Luka doubts he’ll so much as try to stay light footed tonight.

A while later, Luka realizes Sergio is staring at him instead of watching the family make some fatal choices regarding their safety. There is a hungry expression on Sergio’s face and Luka figures it’s because he is still eating while Sergio has polished off his plate.

“You’re insatiable,” Luka says. Sergio leans closer, blinking slowly and keeping eye-contact. It’s almost like that moment from after the game and it makes Luka all twitchy.

Sergio’s face is close and his voice is hushed when he says “Yeah? Is it a bad thing that I want more?”

With a sigh, Luka offers the spring roll for Sergio to take. Sergio cranes his neck as Luka holds out the spring roll. He expects Sergio to take it in his hand but Sergio interprets is at Luka hand feeding him and closes his lips around it to take a bite. Some of the filling spills and Luka curses, picking it up into his palm before it leaves a stain on his couch. Sergio takes the remaining half of the roll, shoves it into his mouth and retreats back to his side of the couch.

Sergio keeps glancing at him so Luka silently holds out the box of spring rolls, this time letting Sergio pick as much as he wants himself.

The film gets dramatic again and Luka forgets about whatever weirdness he felt between them. Sergio seems content to watch the film as well, occasionally stealing more of Luka’s food. Luka tolerates it.

He falls asleep before the film is halfway thoguh.

He wakes up with a start – probably to his own snore, judging from the shit-eating grin on Sergio’s face.

“Shut up,” Luka mumbles around a yawn.

“Ah. I’m not saying anything,” Sergio says.

“Then you’re thinking it too loud,” Luka complains, trying to get himself properly awake. “The film was boring anyway.”

Something in Sergio’s eyes shifts and his expression loses some of its cheekiness. “How would you know? You fell asleep before they even got to the bridge.”

Luka remembers that scene from the opening credits. “Hey! I wasn’t asleep for that one!”

“Maybe not for the first bridge scene,” Sergio says and Luka frowns because – was there really another bridge scene or was Sergio just fucking with him?

“Either way,” Luka says, “I fell asleep just fine so I declare your horror movie night a failure. Again.”

“One of these days, Lukita, one of these days I’ll find exactly what makes you tick and then you’ll be sorry.”

Luka’s one true fear is people finding out the truth about his soulmark and there are no horror movies about that so Luka is pretty sure he is fine. “I’m already shaking in my boots,” he responds.

“You should be. Maybe the films aren’t affecting you but they sure as hell are affecting me. It’s just a matter of time till I snap.” Sergio gives him his best blank stare and launches across the couch to wrap his fingers around Luka’s neck but the effect is ruined completely by the mirth in his eyes.

Luka struggles to get free, laughing. They manage to elbow the TV remote to the floor and throw off one of the cushions before they end up in a tangled heaving mess. Sergio has Luka’s neck in a chokehold but he’s laughing too hard to squeeze.

Luka stops fighting and leans against Sergio. The feeling that has been sitting heavy in the pit of his stomach since the moment his mother asked him about his soulmate finally loosens. Luka laughs, smacking Sergio in his chest. Sergio’s heartbeat is fast and strong under his fingers.

“I guess… I should get going,” Sergio says after a moment, glancing at the watch on Luka’s wrist. “Playing Villarreal tomorrow and all that.”

“Technically,” Luka says, imitating Sergio’s tone from earlier, “we’re playing them today.”

Sergio slides off the couch to the ground and then springs to his feet. “Technically,” he agrees. “See you later today, then? I’ll see myself out.”

“You won’t make me suffer through the film again?” He asks. Sergio shakes his head and grabs his jacket. Luka isn’t sure if he’s disappointed or relieved.

“You’re a lost cause, Lukita.”

“You like me anyway,” Luka calls after him and there is a moment when Sergio is already stepping outside and Luka catches a glimpse of his face before the front door swings shut, and Sergio’s smile from before seems to turn into a wry grimace and that’s just plain wrong. It must have been a trick of light Luka supposes, blinking at the closed door and listening as Sergio’s steps fade away. Tonight has been great and it was good to see Sergio again without the rest of the team distracting them. Sergio would tell him if something was bothering him.

Chapter Text

The easy mood from the night of the get-together with the team is just a distant memory when they get demolished by Villarreal. Something vicious in Luka’s head whispers ‘told you so’. Their previous win was just a fluke.

Him, Sergio and Gareth are the last three people who are still in the meeting room where they all have been forced to re-watch the game on tape, analyse their mistakes and suggest strategies to avoid repeating the same mistakes next time. All the team wanted to do was go back home and lick their wounds but the coach insisted they needed to do it now when the game was still fresh on their minds and the bitter taste of their loss was still sharp in their memory. The coach seemed confident that this would help but now that it’s over, Luka pretty much doubts the coach got what he wanted. Luka’s anger has waned, leaving him exhausted but Sergio has been getting more and more agitated the longer it went on.

Now the torture is finally over, the coach is gone and it’s just the three of them.

Gareth stands up from the couch and cracks his spine, cupping both sides of his neck in his palms. “I don’t know about you two but I’m knackered, I’m ready for the kip.”

“Oh yeah, you go get your beauty sleep, you must be pretty tired from warming up the bench,” Sergio say snidely.

Gareth looks down at Sergio. “Not my fault it went all to pot in the second half.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you even try,” Sergio hisses.

“Sergio,” Luka sighs but he gets ignored by both of them.

“I don’t know what to tell you, mate,” Gareth says with a shrug.

“I got more chances than you did,” Sergio says, voice raising.

“Yeah, maybe that’s the problem because the second one that went in was because of your cock-up.” In one jerky movement, Gareth undoes his man bun and wraps the hair-tie around his wrist just below his soulmark cover. He smoothes his hair down over his shoulders with his fingers, then he stretches his arms and yawns. His hair stays put. It looks sleek, so unlike Luka’s own unruly curls that can’t decide which way they want to point most of the time.

“I wouldn’t have to be there covering your asses if you didn’t lose the ball in the first place,” Sergio goes on with his tirade.

“I was doing my fucking best and you know it,” Gareth says and he’s not backing out of the challenge he must see in Sergio’s eyes, he meets the death glare head on, standing tall and unyielding and Luka has to admire him for it. He’s faced Sergio’s wrath several times and it’s never easy. Gareth doesn’t look bothered in the slightest and it’s not the first time Luka has envied Gareth his height. He bets Gareth doesn’t ever feel like he’s about to be bulldozed when he deflects Sergio’s unjust accusations.

Luka tucks his knees up, rests his hands on them and studies his own cover. It’s an easy way to make sure he’s not staring. Being exposed to Sergio’s anger so often helped Luka learn how to navigate his way through it, finding out the hard way what was the right time to say something and when it was best to let things go and wait for Sergio to cool off first.

Sergio’s tone is sharp. “Were you? Because it sure as hell didn’t look like it.”

“What do you want me to do?” Gareth asks with a shrug, his voice perfectly levelled.

“I want you to fucking leave already,” Sergio explodes.

Luka sucks in a startled breath, head snapping up. He can hardly believe Sergio said that. He watches Gareth’s face contort into an ugly scowl. They both know Sergio wasn’t talking about Gareth leaving the meeting room.

“Nice one,” Gareth says.

“Gareth,” Luka starts but Gareth doesn’t even look at him, eyes narrowing on Sergio.

“You know what, Sergio? Screw you.”

Neither him nor Sergio say anything as they watch Gareth storm off. Luka briefly debates getting up and going after Gareth but it would do him no favours in Sergio’s book. Better to leave Gareth to calm down and get in touch with him later and try to get him not to take Sergio’s remarks personally. Luka’s with Gareth on this one, no matter how upset he was, Sergio shouldn’t have crossed the line.

Luka stays seated where he is. He doesn’t comment on Gareth’s departure, not wanting to say something that Sergio would take the wrong way and focus his frustrations on him. Instead, he clears his throat and nods to the flat screen that they’ve been using to watch the recaps of the game. “So,” Luka starts and Sergio tenses when he glances at him, eyes dark. “You think we can get Netflix on that?”

A bit of the tension eases off Sergio’s shoulders as he says, “We can sure try.”

They’ve just started a third episode of a TV show Luka would never admit they watch when Sergio huffs, apropos of nothing. “I don’t know why I said that.” Sergio runs a hand over his face, then adds, “Shit, I didn’t even mean that.”

Having a command over his emotions has never been Sergio’s strong suit but there’s no gentle way of pointing it out to Sergio without getting him agitated again. “Um,” Luka says. “It was an awful game.”

“Yeah, it was. And all that fucking rain.” Sergio shudders.

“I hate when it rains,” Luka agrees.

“With fucking Villarreal, you know?”

“Yeah.” Luka does know. The weight of the loss is wearing down all of them.

Sergio sniffles, earning himself a puzzled glance from Luka. “What’s up with you, you’ve been acting weird all day.”

“Nothing,” Sergio shakes his head. Luka keeps giving him an ‘oh really?’ look until Sergio heaves a sigh and says, “I’m just so fucking cold.”

“You’re always cold,” Luka says and he doesn’t protest when Sergio snuggles up to him on the couch to soak up Luka’s warmth.

Luka gives it half an episode before he says, cautious, “Sergio?”

“Hm?”

“Gareth – he was, um, pretty upset when he left.”

For a moment Luka isn’t sure how it’s going to go but then Sergio leans his head back against the couch. “You think I should apologize?”

Luka keeps his tone light. “It can’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah. But I’ve said it so many times I’m not sure it can make any difference.” Sergio sits up and mutes the TV. “Do you think an apology gift would work?”

“You might give it a try.”

Sergio bobs his head several times in agreement but then he starts shaking his head instead. “You wouldn’t have any ides, would you? I don’t think he’d appreciate it if I sent him flowers.”

Luka smiles, imagining Gareth’s baffled expression when receiving flowers. “He strikes me as the sunflowers kind of guy,” he says, deadpan.

Sergio laughs. “Yeah, better not.”

“For the record,” Luka goes on in the same tone, “I like forget-me-nots.”

Sergio laughs harder and it’s nice to hear the sound during a night like this.

“For real though,” Sergio says, his laughter turning to cough, “any suggestions? What does the guy even like?”

Luka bites his lip. “Um. There’s this chocolate bar he really likes.”

“…Chocolate? Really?”

“It’s really hard to get your hands on it here! He usually stocks up whenever he flies back home.”

“Does he now?” Sergio’s eyes narrow. “And you know all about that, huh?”

“So?” Luka huffs.

Sergio holds his palm up, placating. “You sweet tooth guys have to stick together, I get it, I get it.”

“Hey!”

“It’s fine. Chocolate. I like the idea. So, what did you say the chocolate is called?”

“Cadbury Dairy Milk Turkish Delight,” Luka mumbles.

Sergio makes him repeat it a few times as he grabs his phone, quickly tapping the screen to find the correct site to place his order. Luka watches him sort through the pages, face illuminated by the blue shine of the screen. “Hey, Lukita?”

“What?”

Sergio glances over at him, thumb hovering over the screen of his phone. “This Turkish Delight, it wouldn’t happen to be your guilty pleasure, too, would it?”

“Nah. Too much sugar, not enough chocolate,” Luka dismisses.

“Okay, good,” Sergio nods after a few final taps, he pockets the phone. “You feel like watching another episode?”

“Always,” Luka says, reaching for the remote to turn the volume back up.

He doesn’t mind when Sergio shifts back to their original position so they’re pressed close together. Sergio mutters something about being cold again and feeling sick but Luka’s not buying it, he can feel the heat radiating from him.

Before the third episode is over, Sergio falls asleep against Luka’s neck.

Chapter Text

Turns out Sergio wasn’t lying about feeling sick. He got a cold.

“The docs sent him home,” Marce says as he’s wrapping the armband in place. “He had a fever, could barely keep himself up on his feet.”

“Um.” Luka can’t help the way his expression falls, face scrunching up in a frown. “We’ve got a game on Sunday.”

“He didn’t sound that awful. He should be okay for the weekend. I think.”

Luka watches as Marce fiddles with the armband and straightens the jersey beneath it. He feels mild irritation – it’s not even necessary for Marce to have the armband for today’s practise.

He really hopes Sergio is back by Sunday.

The moment the practise finishes, he jogs up to catch with Gareth. “Hey, you’ve got a moment?”

Gareth glances down at him. “Something wrong?”

“No, no,” Luka is quick to assure. “I just wanted to talk about what happened yesterday-”

Gareth shrugs. “Nothing to talk about, mate. Sergio threw a wobbly, I fucked off.”

“Oh.”

“You still in for the game night, right?”

“Of course,” Luka says, even though it won’t be as much fun without being able to needle Sergio.

There is a small restaurant down the street from Luka’s. It’s cosy, clean and hardly ever packed. It’s run by an old woman who is also the cook. Her granddaughter is usually by the counter, taking the orders and the payments. The guests have to come grab their orders from her.

He found the place one day by an accident when he was walking back to his place and had to jump out of the way of a reckless guy on a bike who had a dog running beside him on a leash. Luka pressed himself close to the door in order not to get run over by either the guy or his dog, and he happened to look through the window inside the restaurant in time to see an old woman leaning over the counter to kiss a customer’s cheek while setting down a bowl with some food for the customer to take.

Before he knew it, Luka was stepping inside. He took in the trinkets on the shelf above the counter, the potted plants on each table and the lace tablecloths and he was reminded of his mother’s kitchen so suddenly and strongly he felt a familiar tug of homesickness around his heart.

“What can I get you, dear? I’ve just finished the chicken broth.”

“That, please.”

The soup came in a beige bowl with an darker brown outer rim and the broth was so clear Luka could see the flower pattern on the bottom of the bowl.

“Everything all right, dear?”

Luka glanced up, the woman came out from behind the counter and she was looking down at him with worry.

“Yes,” he croaked out, not about to explain the sudden wave of sentiment that came over him and nearly made him cry over a soup. “Everything’s all right.”

The woman sent a quick glance around her shop and when she saw that there was only a group of three students by the other end of the room who already had their meals in front of them, the woman sat down next to Luka and started chattering to him about her life. She was from Bulgaria, her name was Nadya and apparently, he looked like he was lost.

Luka shook his head. “I’m not lost.”

“Lost,” Nadya insisted. “And hungry.”

Before he knew it, he was ordering the second course and then desert.

Luka suspects it was his accent that kindled the spark of kinship in her but whatever reason she had, it worked. Every now and then he keeps coming back to her shop tucked away between two other buildings and barely noticeable from the street. Sometimes he comes back for Nadya’s soup but more usually for the chat that helps chase away any nostalgic longing.

Luka pushes open the door to Nadya’s restaurant, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his lips when he hears the familiar creak.

Nadya’s not behind the counter, it’s her granddaughter today but Luka’s not here to talk anyway.

“Hey, what can I get you?”

Luka places his Tupperware on the counter. “Could I get the chicken broth to go?”

The granddaughter gasps as if Luka had said something atrocious. “To go?” She echoes, voice raising.

“Yeah.”

The girl crosses her arms. “No.”

“What?”

“You’ve heard me,” she says and with one finger she gingerly pushes the blue plastic container back to Luka. “We don’t do that to soup here. It’s plastic! Ew.”

“But–”

“If you want soup, you can eat it here. Do you want me to ring up the order?”

“I want soup – but I want to take it with me.”

The girl’s eyes bore into him and Luka realizes that she’s looking down her nose at him, very literally. “I’m sorry, sir,” she says, “you can’t order soup ‘to go’.”

“It’s not for me,” Luka tries to explain. “It’s for a friend.”

“A friend, huh,” the girl drawls, her eyes automatically fixing on Luka’s cover. Luka spares a glance to make sure nothing is showing. It isn’t, of course it isn’t, but the urge to check is too strong to ignore. “Well, then how about you get your friend to come here for a date and you can both enjoy our soup.”

“They… they’re sick, they can’t come,” Luka says vaguely. He isn’t sure if the girl knows him or not. Nadya sure as hell doesn’t which is refreshing but while Nadya has no idea who he is, Luka can’t assume the same about the granddaughter.

The girl steals another look at Luka’s cover. “Oh, sorry to hear that.”

“Listen,” Luka says, trying to make his eyes wide and pleading. “I’d cook some soup for them myself but I don’t want to end up poisoning them.” He’s nowhere near that tragic in the kitchen but the girl doesn’t have to know and self-deprecating humour has always worked best for him.

It works this time, too.

“Oh, all right, all right. Just this once. And don’t tell my grandma I did that, she’d bite my head off.”

“Just this once,” Luka grins and gives the girl double the usual price for the soup.

Chapter Text

Luka lets himself inside Sergio’s house with the spare keys Sergio gave him ages ago. He tiptoes down the hallway, soft footed, not wanting to wake Sergio up if Sergio is sleeping. Sergio needs all the rest he can get so he’ll be up on his feet by Sunday.

Luka soundlessly opens and closes the door to the kitchen and when he turns, he sees Sergio’s mum already pottering around the kitchen. She doesn’t hear him enter but when she takes a step and spots him by the door, she lets out a startled cry and she flinches, hand flying to her chest. Shit.

“Um. Good evening, Mrs. Ramos,” Luka manages feebly. He’s holding up the steamed up Tupperware in front of him like a shield.

After taking a few heaving breaths, Sergio’s mum recovers. “Luka,” she gasps. “What a lovely surprise.”

Luka sees where Sergio got his sense of humour. “Sorry about that, Mrs. Ramos.”

Sergio’s mum waves her hand. “I just didn’t expect to see you here.”

The same could be said about her, Luka muses. Although, if either of them has any right to be here, it’s not him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to give you a scare.”

“Sergio didn’t mention you’ll be here.”

“He didn’t know,” Luka admits.

Sergio’s mum is cooking something on the stove, and there is a strong smell of garlic in the air. Luka notices the empty egg shells in a bowl on the kitchen counter and there’s also a bottle of sherry, already opened.

Luka’s intruding here, he realizes but before he can turn out and flee, Sergio’s mum asks, “What do you have there?”

Luka feels suddenly incredibly reluctant to let go of the Tupperware. “Um. Chicken broth,” he admits. “Bought from a shop,” he adds before Sergio’s mum could get any ideas of him in the kitchen, cooking for her son. Buying the soup is marginally less creepy, Luka thinks.

“Good. He never liked my sopa de ajo,” Sergio’s mum remarks, prying the container from Luka’s fingers and setting it on the counter. She opens the lid and sniffs at the soup. It passes her test.

“Um. And here’s some tea, Gareth swears by it,” Luka says, praying that Sergio’s mum won’t ask if it is Gareth sending Sergio the tea or Luka bringing it on his own accord. With nothing else to carry, Luka crosses his arms over his chest. It’s not his fault Gareth gives him tea every Christmas and by this point Luka can’t tell if it’s a gag gift or Gareth’s earnest effort to get Luka to start drinking it.

“How very sweet of you.”

Luka doesn’t blush. “Um.”

Sergio’s mum puts the soup away and turns to Luka. “I’m sorry but if you came to see Sergio, he’s sleeping.”

“It’s okay,” Luka says, “I’ll see him when he’s feeling better.” He fumbles a bit with his words and before he decides if that was his cue to leave or not, Sergio’s mum grabs the bottle of sherry and tilts it towards him.

“Luka, have a drink with me?” It doesn’t sounds like a question, especially considering Sergio’s mum is already grabbing two glasses.

“Um. Yes?” With trepidation, Luka takes a place at the table to which Sergio’s mum points.

Sergio’s mum pours them both a glass and hands it over to Luka with a small smile. “Here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ramos,” Luka says, fingers going tight around the stem of the glass.

Sergio’s mum takes a healthy gulp, then squeezes her eyes. “Why do you insist on calling me that, Luka? You make me feel like a hundred years old witch.”

Luka tries to hurry his apology. He swallows the sherry wrong and ends up coughing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. What would you like me to call you?”

“Call me mum for all I care,” she jokes, “but for heaven’s sake, don’t call me that. I’m not that old, am I?”

“Of course not, Mrs. Ramos,” Luka is quick to assure her. Then he winces, realizing what he just said. Damn it, didn’t she just ask him not to call her that? “Sorry. Um. Habit.”

She laughs, her nose scrunching up. “As charming as ever.”

“Yeah, we had to take seminars on that,” Luka says dryly just when she’s about to take another sip of her sherry. Luka can hear the clink of her teeth against the glass when she chuckles.

She sets her glass down and waggles a finger at Luka. “That was on purpose, wasn’t it.”

Luka makes his eyes go wide, “Not at all!” It’s truth but he makes his voice go higher than usual and he overdoes the earnest face and he knows she’ll think he’s lying. Years of constant lying taught him how to manipulate the truth to suit his needs.

Sergio’s mum is pleasant to talk to and Luka can’t help but compare her to his mother’s usual inquisition. He doesn’t mind telling Sergio’s mum things that he abhors telling his own mother. Somehow, the way his mother phrases her questions makes him irritated but the way Sergio’s mum asks, like there’s no pressure in answering them, makes him volunteer more information than he thought he would be okay sharing with her.

Luka keeps expecting the other shoe to drop, he waits for her to set her glass aside, waits for her expression to turn stern, he can just about picture her asking, ‘But for real, now, Luka. Why are you bringing my son soup and paying him visits when he’s sick? What’s your intent?’

Luka runs numerous excuses through his head but he can’t settle on one that would sound the most believable. He’ll have to wing it. He’s ready for the questions to come.

Sergio’s mum, however, never questions his presence in the house. Like Luka being here is the least puzzling thing on Earth.

She’s curious to know what he usually does for the Christmas break if they have any, she seems interested to hear about his summer vacation, she asks what he misses most about his home when he’s in Madrid.

She finishes cooking the sopa de ajo and asks him if he’d like to have some at the same time as she’s already pouring it in a plate for him.

It’s getting pretty late by the time Luka polishes the plate and finishes telling Sergio’s mum about that one time when they were leaving a hotel and the motion detector at the exit was so high up the sliding door wouldn’t open for him and he crashed into it, ending up in a pitiful heap on the ground with this luggage thrown all around him and Sergio cackling so hard he had to slump against the nearest wall so he wouldn’t fall over.

“I should get going,” he says, taking in the time. “We have a game night with some of the guys from the team.”

“Of course, Luka.”

“It was lovely to see you again,” Luka says, stopping himself just in time not to call her Mrs. Ramos again.

“A pleasant surprise,” she says with a smirk and pulls him in to kiss his cheeks before seeing him out. “I’ll tell Sergio you said hi.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

It’s her last chance to get any answers about his impromptu visit but she lets him walk away without asking.

He feels her curious gaze at his back all the way out of the house.

“What’s up with you?” Toni asks, prodding Luka’s shin with the tip of his foot.

“Just bad luck,” Luka dismisses, glancing at the screen that declares he’s been killed once again, game over. He hasn’t been much use to his newly assigned team.

“You’re pretty distracted,” Toni says.

“Just not feeling it tonight,” Luka says. “Lucas’ strategy was–”

“There was nothing wrong with Lucas’ strategy,” Toni says quickly. “Just bad luck!”

“Um. Right.”

Luka glances at his phone, checking the time. He wonders if it would be rude to head back home already.

Chapter Text

The team is warming up before the Sunday match. Sergio isn’t even at the stadium so his health must be really poor. Luka stretches his arms, swinging them sideways.

Gareth is jogging in front of him, occasionally breaking into full speed sprint followed by an abrupt halt. He’ll be starting on the right side tonight. Luka is sure the position won’t be an issue. He remembers well how the two of them could manage to turn around a match for Tottenham if given the chance. Gareth can do marvels with his left foot.

Marce suddenly drops down in front of him and Luka, who has been following Gareth with his eyes, doesn’t notice in time and has to jump sideways to avoid crashing into Marce. “What the hell?”

Marce glances up, eyebrow raised. He’s tying up his shoelace. “A little touchy, aren’t you.”

Luka opens his mouth to make a retort but instead he sneezes.

Marce frowns. “You aren’t getting sick as well, are you?”

“Nonsense,” Luka waves his hand.

“You’ve spent a lot of time with Sergio, hope you didn’t catch it from him.”

“I’m fine, Marcelo,” Luka insists.

Marce gets up and touches Luka’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“I don’t have a fever, I feel fine,” Luka snaps. He’s fine and he isn’t spending too much time with Sergio, no matter what Marce seems to think.

“If you say so. But tell the doctors if you’re not feeling well.”

“I feel fine!” Luka almost shouts. “I would tell them – if there was anything to tell.”

“Yeah, be sure to do that, we don’t want you infecting the rest of the team.”

Luka groans and picks up his speed to catch up with Gareth.

They manage to win against Rayo Vallecano and the team goes out to celebrate.

Benze thumps Luka’s back so hard Luka almost spills his drink. “What a night, what a night!”

Luka grins and laughs and cheers when Toni suggests they play at darts. While Luka doesn’t do half bad, Toni keeps losing miserably. Everyone finds that hilarious since Toni was the one to suggest they make it a competition. Luka isn’t sure who wins, maybe Case or Lucas, but he knows he has a really good time. It would be even better if Sergio were there with them. He would probably be challenging Toni into a duel and trying to get bets involved; the man knew how to hustle and he was goddamn lucky, too, hardly ever missing even when he was three sheets to the wind.

“I spoke to his physio,” Marce says.

“What?”

“His physio was told to expect him back on Wednesday.”

Luka doesn’t try to pretend he has no idea who is Marce talking about. “On Wednesday? Already?”

On the other side of the room, Toni starts cursing in German.

Marce nods. “I’m sure he’ll at least join us for the practise.”

“Okay.” Luka smiles into his glass as he takes a gulp.

“My mum said you paid me a visit,” Sergio says.

“Um.”

“Did you?” Luka considers lying and Sergio must sense it because he produces the Tupperware. “You did. My mum is not a liar.”

“Um, hey, yeah, I stopped by.”

“Hm. Here.” Sergio shoves the empty container into Luka’s arms.

“I…”

Sergio waves him off. “What did you tell my mum?”

“What would I tell her?” Luka says, heartbeat quickening.

Sergio makes a face and rephrases, “What did she tell you, then?”

“She told me to call her ‘mum’,” Luka says, trying to lighten the mood but Sergio doesn’t seem to find the remark amusing. He stares at Luka for a few long moments but when Luka doesn’t volunteer any more information, Sergio shakes his head, thumps Luka on his back and goes to talk to Benze.

He gets back home and the stupid Tupperware is still sitting unassumingly on his kitchen table and Luka grabs it, annoyed, to shove it into the depths of his cupboard so he doesn’t have to see it.

The container is not empty as he had thought, there’s something inside it. Luka opens the lid to find a small sticky note inside. It reads,

Thanks!
–S

The lid falls from Luka’s fingers. He hastily pulls out a chair and collapses into it, weak in the knees.

It’s not like he didn’t know it before seeing this note – how many people named Sergio that could have been his soulmate does one meet in one’s life time – but to see the familiar scrawl of the S, it’s like a sudden punch to his face. He’s been aware of it before and there has been the hum in his thoughts, reminding him that his soulmate’s name had been Sergio. An insistent whisper telling him that this Sergio, his friend, his teammate and his captain, should have been his.

It was meant to be Sergio. They’ve met. They could have been happy.

But Luka burned that bridge instead.

Luka doesn’t even realize he’s pulling at the cover, untying the knots that hold it in place until he’s staring at the underside of his wrist, at the tattoo he was so deep set on putting there. Instead of his mark, he has this. A name that isn’t real.

He runs his thumb over the name and he shudders.

He stares at it until his eyes go misty and if a few tears escape him, well, there’s no one else with him to know it.

Marce’s hand stops him from leaving right after the practise. Marce shifts his hand from gripping Luka’s arm to hug Luka across his back. “Lukita. Is there something wrong between you and Sergio?”

“What? No. Why would you ask?”

Marce shrugs. “I thought you guys were fighting again.”

From the outside, it might have looked bad, Luka ponders. But it wasn’t like that at all. Sergio was just expressive and Luka was having none of his bullshit. Sergio’s ideas were completely useless but apparently it wasn’t enough just to tell Sergio because the stubborn idiot needed to see it for himself and waste a whole hour practising something that was doomed to fail from the beginning. Just because the others were willing to entertain the idea, it didn’t mean Luka was going to stand aside and watch the disaster unfold.

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, Lukita, you tell me. You’ve been moping the whole time he was sick but the moment he gets back you keep avoiding him?”

“I haven’t been avoiding him,” Luka denies. “I spoke to him just now.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the whole dressing room could hear it as the two of you spoke,” Marce says.

“Just talking tactics.” Luka tucks his hair behind his ears. “We can talk without getting into an argument.”

“Didn’t always use to be like that,” Marce reminds him.

“It’s different now,” Luka waves Marce’s worries off. “We’re fine, really.”

“If you say so.” The frown between Marce’s eyebrows doesn’t disappear. Luka will have to make sure to speak to Sergio when Marce is within an earshot to ease his worry. The last thing Luka needs is Marce paying a close attention to how are the things between him and Sergio.

Luka feels restless and decides to swap around the activities in his schedule so he can burn off some extra energy while running. He does his usual track of seven kilometres and then eases off his pace.

He jogs back to his place and sees the darkened windows of the empty house. The silence that awaits him inside seems like the most hostile thing ever. As a spur of the moment’s decision, Luka turns left instead of right and in no time he’s pushing past the door into Nadya’s restaurant.

The granddaughter is behind the counter again and Luka can’t help the way his mouth drops open when he sees her. She’s gotten herself a new haircut and it’s short and um, very orange. Naranča. It’s all that keeps running through his mind. Naranča. Naranča.

She catches him staring and drops her head into her hands and moans in misery. “I know! It’s so vile!”

“Um. Hi.”

“Hey,” she sighs, “What can I get you today?” Luka is still staring instead of placing his order and she glares at him. “Could you not? It’s rude.”

“Oh, sure. It’s just so… eye-catching.” Each time he sees an orange from now on it’s bound to run through his mind again. Naranča.

“Nice save. So? The soup special to get you started?”

“Sure,” Luka says and then, after brief hesitation, he asks with a small smile, “and could I get some orange juice, please?”

Her eyes narrow and she points a finger at him. “I’m onto you.” Luka gives her his best wide-eyed, confused puppy look. Naranča snorts, not buying it for a second but she turns around and grabs some oranges from the fruit crates and starts peeling them. “Coming right up.”

She’s got spirit.

Luka decides he likes her. But not her hair colour.

Chapter Text

Luka is bone tired by the time he makes it back home. He drags himself through the motions of brushing his teeth and showering and he’s happy to crash down on his bed. He doesn’t even bother with the alarm clock, he has nowhere to be tomorrow and if he sleeps past the usual time he gets up, no one will ever be the wiser.

It was a good idea to go running, it got rid of all the excess energy and it was nice to be in Nadya’s restaurant again. The place reminds him of his early childhood. Before he got his soulmark. Before everything got complicated.

Luka falls asleep soon after his face touches his pillow and he doesn’t wake until the sun is already up.

He stares up at the sky, watching the clouds getting swept across the sky in the wind. The puffy white of the clouds and the bright blue colour of the sky make for a nice scenery.

Luka rubs his eyes and yawns, then he swings his legs off the bed and grimaces when his bare feet touch the cold floorboards. Maybe he should look into the floor heating system Marce was going on about.

He drags himself up from the bed and grabs his socks first, then starts to care about the rest of his clothing.

Mornings aren’t one of Luka’s strong suits and he heaves a sigh as he shuffles into the kitchen, yawning again and blearily poking at his phone to see if he has any reminders for today.

As he waits for the kettle to boil, he goes to collect his post from the outside. It’s a short walk from the house to the mailbox and back. The wind is pretty cold but he’s too lazy to put on a coat. The mail is already pre-sorted, only things he personally needs to deal with are there, anything else he doesn’t need to see has been taken care of.

Luka hurries inside, feeling much more awake now. The crispy air woke him up better than any coffee. With a shudder he places the small pile of envelopes on the desk and walks over to the fridge, staring into it, scratching his cheek, contemplating his options.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the pile of his post slide across the desk and a postal stamp on one of the envelopes catches his eye. Mail that comes through the Spanish post hardly ever has a post mark. Luka shuts the fridge and cranes his neck to take a better look at the envelope but when he still can’t quite make it out he reaches for the envelope and frees it from the pile of all the others. And then his stomach drops.

His heart begins to race, he staggers to the table and sits down heavily in a chair, a dreadful unease setting low in his stomach, making him off-footed. His fingers are shaking and not knowing is the worst but at the same time he can’t make himself open the letter.

He needs to know what it says.

He dreads knowing.

Luka gets up to his feet again and his fingers are shaking as he reaches for a glass into his cupboard. He sloshes some water over his fingers as he runs the tap and the glass softly clinks against his teeth when he tries to take a sip. He sets the glass down, staring at the envelope that can’t bring him any good news. Would they send a letter if his father–?

His fingers are still badly shaking when he tears into the envelope, not caring to grab a letter opener. He scans the letter, then he does it again, scarcely believing what it says.

It’s a summon to a court in Zagreb.

Shit.

Oh, shit.

His breathing is becoming erratic and his thoughts are quickly taking a downward spiral. If the clinic had any records, someone might have sold the information. Or the guy who worked on him could have decided to talk. It was unlikely, after all these years, but it wasn’t impossible. There has been a surge of interest in his private life these past months and the guy might have decided to milk it for what it was worth. Even if it wasn’t anyone at the clinic, the secret could have been discovered in thousand other ways. Maybe he wasn’t careful enough in the locker room, maybe the paparazzi were more intrusive than he thought. Maybe someone close to him put two and two together, with the way he’s been going recently it wasn’t that much of a leap to make. If the court is involved, it is bad.

Luka keeps reading the letter over and over but the strings of words don’t make any sense, he is in too much of a shock for his brain to process the meaning. Luka squeezes his eyes shut.

It’s not an arrest, he reminds himself. If they knew for sure, they wouldn’t have bothered to send him a letter beforehand. He would have been apprehended first and cross-examined later.

So, whatever it is about, it’s not as dire as it could be, Luka reasons with himself but it does little to settle his nerves.

Court summons are never good and Luka can’t shake the fear that he’s either going to get sued or dragged for having illegally gotten his soulmark removed.

The rest of the day passes in a haze. He skips breakfast and lunch and when he exercises he isn’t paying full attention and he overdoes it, soothed by the strenuous activity that pulls at his muscles and doesn’t give his mind time to wander. He’s all tense after that, he really shouldn’t have done the last set of reps but he couldn’t make himself stop. Now his left shin is in a searing pain again, the ache so familiar it’s almost welcome. It’s nothing a long hot shower couldn’t soothe, Luka tells himself.

He’s supposed to take a powernap but Luka is hard-pressed to lie down to sleep in the afternoon on a good day. He hates being woken up from his sleep and while everyone says a short nap is refreshing, Luka often wakes up drowsy and has to struggle to shake off the sleepiness the same way he has to in the early mornings when he has places to be.

Still, today has been an exhausting day so far and who knows what the rest of it would bring.

Luka lies down, earbuds in his ears. He doesn’t have to sleep. He’ll just lie down and close his eyes and try to let go of all that stress that has been piling up.

Luka wakes up with a start, disoriented, the haze of the dream only slowly leaving his mind.

He’s in Spain. He’s not a kid about to get signed by Zagreb. It’s years later than it was a second ago. Luka has to touch his wrist to remind himself that he has really done it. He quickly works to undo the cover and then he breathes out a sigh. It’s there, the tattoo. He got the soulmark removed and when the skin healed he went to a tattoo parlour where they didn’t ask any questions and where they were willing to tattoo over the tale-telling faint scar that sat there.

It’s still there now. The tattoo. And when Luka tilts his head just right and looks closely, he sees the scar, too.

He blinks back tears and presses his fingers to the S of the tattoo. He wasn’t being sentimental when he hastily drew the design for the fake name, he was hard pressed for time and the swirl of the S has been so familiar Luka had drawn it exactly the same way for Spomenka without a second thought. The initial letter is the closest thing he has to the original soulmark. One name for another. The truth for a lie. The soulmark for a tattoo.

Luka spends a lot of time thinking about the way the S curls into his skin, tracing over the name with the pad of his right thumb and he’s so deep in thoughts he doesn’t feel all that much of anything.

Chapter Text

Sunday’s match takes place late at night so it’s close to midnight by the time the match is over. With the final whistle sealing their fate at 2-1, Luka lies down with his back on the grass and looks up, at the stands and into the dark void of the sky that he can see past the glare of the lights from the stadium. His chest is heaving, the adrenaline still making his heart gallop at a crazy speed. Just seconds before, they’d been close to equalizing, he was trying to get the ball past the defence to pass to either Gareth who was open or to Toni whose accuracy could have turned deadly if only he could have gotten his feet on the ball. It’s all gone now. They’ve lost another match.

The stands are still chanting to their heroes. This was an away game and Real has got a long, silent way back home ahead of them tomorrow. Luka isn’t looking forward to that in the slightest. They’re staying overnight at the hotel and Luka looks forward to that even less.

A familiar tattooed hand appears in Luka’s view, shielding the stands from sight. “Fucking game,” Sergio is swearing as Luka clasps his hand around Sergio’s and allows himself to be pulled up.

The movement is too abrupt and a sudden pain shoots through his temple and he lets out a startled gasp and clings to Sergio’s hand for support. For a second, Sergio goes absolutely still but then he’s a blur of movement, pressing Luka close and dragging him to the lockers.

Luka’s pretty sure there should have been more shaking hands with the home team but he’s not complaining. He tries to focus on his breathing to get it back under control. He’s completely oblivious to the way his hand is still gripping Sergio’s wrist.

Turns out, Luka was wrong about him and Sergio. They are fighting. And it’s not pretty. He doesn’t understand why Sergio’s frustrations are focused on him but he’s not going to tolerate it. Sure, the match has been one giant fuck-up but Sergio looks like he expects Luka to do something and Luka has no idea what Sergio wants. So they argue, right there in the locker room and Luka has had enough of it.

He ignores Marce’s worried glances and heads to the showers in the middle of Sergio’s rant, hoping Sergio will have calmed down by the time Luka finishes taking a shower and changing. Just before he turns the tap, he hears Sergio yell at Marce to shut the fuck up, then the stream of water hitting the tiles drowns out any other noises.

Sergio is gone when Luka comes back, and Luka’s mood lightens. He sits with Marce on the bus that shuttles them back to the hotel room and if he could say so himself, Luka is pretty much okay by the time he’s wishing Marce goodnight and stepping out of the lift.

But Sergio is waiting for him. He’s leaning against the wall next to the door to Luka’s room and when he hears Luka approaching, his head jerks up from where he’d been studying the patterns on his sneakers.

“Luka,” he rasps, then clears his throat, eyes glued to Luka, searching for good knows what.

“What?” Luka snaps as he struggles with the lock on his door.

“Luka, please, I can’t… Everything’s going to shit, don’t let this become a disaster, too.”

“Way I see it,” Luka says, getting irritated by Sergio ruthlessly seeking problems where there are none, “you’re the one stirring shit.”

“Luka.”

“Seriously,” he says as he pushes past the door. Sergio quickly follows him inside. “What’s gotten into you?” The door falls shut behind them but the walls are thin. Luka sets his bag on the chair near the bed and shuts the blinds. Sergio remains standing in the narrow hallway by the door.

“You know what this is about!” Sergio says, anger seeping into his voice. It’s not good, it’s definitely not good, because they’re the only two people here and if this ends in another shouting match, there won’t be any witnesses that could stay level-headed and break their fight apart.

“You know what’s wrong! You’re the one who won’t stop touching my mark!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luka says and he’s pleased to hear the calmness in his own voice.

“Don’t lie to me,” Sergio snarls.

“I’m not!” It sounds more defensive than Luka would have liked.

“Look me in the eye,” Sergio challenges, dark eyes gleaming with emotions.

It takes a lot not to look away but Luka clenches his teeth and holds the penetrating gaze. He’s been through too much to fuck it up now.

Sergio’s eyes are seeping into his, searching for any hints of dishonesty, in turn betraying something akin to hope in their expression, so tentative and careful Luka isn’t sure if Sergio realizes Luka can see it.

Luka would say something if things were different. He would. He would roll up his sleeve, undo the cover and show Sergio the name he’s been hiding since the first day it appeared on his skin. But things are never going to be different, people are always going to talk and stick their noses into other people’s business and gleefully jump at any chance to tank his career, that’s the whole point.

Keeping the mark was never an option. It needed to go.

Luka doesn’t regret his decision.

Getting rid of the name to make sure he could keep playing football was a fair trade-off, in Luka’s eyes. It hurt more than anything has ever hurt in his life. Severing the bond was beyond painful but it was the only decision he could have made. If given the chance, he’d do the same thing. Well, he probably wouldn’t be so reckless about it and he’d do his research first to make sure he picks someone absolutely trustworthy to take the scalpel to his skin and do the job of cutting out the marked stripe of skin. But aside from that, Luka would do everything the same way. He would get rid of the soulmark if it meant he could stop looking over his shoulder every damn second of his life.

Luka lets out a soft exhale as he reminds himself he doesn’t need to dread that people would see what’s beneath the cover anymore. Because now all there’s to see is a tattoo of a name. Spomenka.

Luka never thought he would meet Sergio. Never entertained the thought he would meet him and know it was him.

“Look me in the eye,” Sergio repeats slowly. “And tell me you don’t have my name.”

“I don’t have your name, Sergio,” Luka says evenly. It’s true, after all.

He doesn’t have Sergio’s name. Not anymore.

There is just a thin, faded scar where Luka got the skin removed and sewed back together. It healed surprisingly well, considering the circumstances. To this day Luka shudders to remember the darkened alley, the backdoor of the clinic and the smell of sweat and rubbing alcohol. The memory of the smell alone makes his stomach turn.

He got the cover-up tattoo several months later. Spomenka. Sometimes, in the safety of his home, when he steps out of the shower without the cover over his wrist and he catches the sight of the name, he gets a weird moment of puzzlement. The dark swirls don’t belong there. The shapes aren’t the ones he imprinted to his memory during the sleepless nights in Zagreb. The scar beneath the name is so faint no one would notice it unless they knew what to look for. The skin healed, even if his heart did not.

Across the room, Sergio takes one step closer to him, snapping Luka’s attention back to the present.

Sergio shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m telling you the truth, Sergio.” Or, part of the truth. Luka presses his lips together and wills himself not to blink too much while Sergio stares him down.

“I can feel it, you liar. I can feel the bond. It’s weak but it’s–”

Luka holds the fierce gaze and says, “You’re not my soulmate.” I refused you. And that is completely true. Luka had refused Sergio years ago, before they even met.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Sergio launches himself across the remaining distance and shoves at Luka until he falls back against the wall. Luka raises his arms instinctively to shield his face against the incoming assault but Sergio doesn’t hit him, Sergio captures Luka’s hand and pulls roughly at the sleeve. His grip is near bruising as he tears at the cover and gets it off, twisting Luka’s hand to get a better look at the name.

For a second, for one insane second Luka fears Sergio might see what’s covered by the tattoo, fears Sergio would take one look and he would know the truth.

Then Sergio freezes and Luka hears him suck in a startled breath. The grip of Sergio’s fingers loosens.

Luka snatches his hand away and grabs the cover, tries to put it back in place, tighten it so it won’t slide off. His heart is beating madly in his chest, his hands are shaking.

Sergio makes a choked sound that gets stuck in his throat. He takes a stumbling step away from Luka.

Luka opens his mouth to say something, to yell, to cry – he doesn’t know. He opens and closes his mouth a few times but no sound comes out. He grabs his bag and with a shake of his head he rushes past Sergio to the door.

“Luka!”

He pauses. Darn it, all it takes is just one word and he pauses, hand on the doorknob. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have–”

“You never should have,” Luka hisses. “What you did…” He doesn’t know what to say. Sergio broke his trust, Luka can’t get past that right now.

“I’m sorry,” Sergio says again, quick and desperate. “I’m so sorry!”

Luka twists the doorknob and slips away. Marce will let him bunk in with him for sure.

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Luka says when Marce opens the door. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Marce’s eyebrows rise up to his hairline but he steps aside to let Luka come through the door. “Sure. But you realize this is going to be the first place where Sergio looks for you, right?”

“He won’t be looking for me,” Luka says. He’s pretty sure of that.

Marce starts picking up his clothes from the spare bed to make room for Luka. “If he comes knocking on the door, I’m not going to cover for you.”

“I’m not asking you to, Marcelo. Just let me crash here.”

“Did something–”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Luka dismisses quickly.

“Because I’ve heard the whole thing in the dressing room and it was uncalled for, we all saw that.”

“No, it wasn’t about the game at all.” Luka makes a face at the memory of the scene that preceded the one from the hotel room. “It was about… something else.”

“Oh.” Marce says and there is too much weight in that one small expression.

Luka uneasily shifts on his feet, wondering if Marce can tell that his cover is way too loose on Luka’s wrist. Luka has already said too much. He sits down on the bed, rummaging in his bag for a spare cover and something to sleep in. “Mind if I grab a quick shower?”

“Of course, go ahead,” Marce nods. He’s twirling his phone on the flat of his palm, spinning it around and catching it before it could slide to the floor. “I was just waiting for Clarice to call me again. The kids are in bed already,” he says when he notices Luka’s staring.

“You told them good night?”

“Of course I did.”

“Even Mr. Whiskers?” Luka asks, teasing.

“You’re laughing at me but you’d be just the same. You’d kiss the stuffed toy goodnight if it brought a smile to your kid’s face.”

“I would not,” Luka denies as he grabs a towel and disappears into the bathroom before Marce can switch the topic again.

“And besides, his name isn’t Mr. Whiskers!”

“You would know, wouldn’t you,” Luka calls back before closing the door. He showers quickly, careful not to get his hair wet again. Even if Marce managed to take his mind off things for a few moments, Luka has to take care of the cover now. He’s not in the particular mood to see the tattoo tonight and just thinking about it makes his mood sour again. He rubs his hands over his face, silently cursing Sergio for acting so impulsively.

He towels himself dry and pulls at the cover until it completely slips off. In the sink, he washes the tender skin underneath it and then carefully rewraps the new cover securely in place.

No matter how hard he tries to ease off the frown and force his lips to lose their downward tilt, the stormy expression is still on his face when he comes back from the bathroom. Marce is spinning the phone, this time on one finger. He glances at Luka and lets out a low whistle.

“Lukita–”

“Don’t,” Luka says, watching as Marce sets the phone on his nightstand.

“I just don’t want to see this thing between you and Sergio affecting the rest of the team,” Marce sighs.

“I told you before, we’re fine.”

“If you say so.” Marce gives him a dubious look and Luka has to remind himself there’s no way Marce could have even the smallest hint of suspicion about Luka’s mark or about what has just transpired between Luka and Sergio. And there is no way Marce knows about the letter from Zagreb.

“It’s fine,” Luka says and then he tries again, “It’s going to be fine.”

Marce hums. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Lukita, you know I won’t judge, right?”

“I know.” But Marce has his darling Clarice and they’ve been happy since they’ve met early in their childhood. It’s not like Marce could understand. For Marce, having a soulmate has always been a source of happiness. “Thanks, Marcelo.”

“I mean it, Luka, if you want to talk about the–”

“I don’t!” Luka snaps. He isn’t sure what is it with Marce tonight. He came here exactly because he wanted to avoid any more confrontations and questions tonight.

Marce looks like he’s going to say something again but thankfully, his phone starts ringing and the Brazilian throws himself across the bed to reach it.

Luka settles to sleep, listening to Marce talk on the phone with his wife, his soulmate. Luka squeezes his eyes shut and forces his breath to be slow and even.

Marce speaks fast, his words sound familiar but aren’t understandable and the strange blend is too much to focus on.

He’s almost dozing off for real when Marce hangs up the phone. There are several long moments before Marce asks, voice very quiet, “Luka?”

Luka doesn’t reply, too close to sleep to bother.

In the same hushed tone, Marce says the words that make Luka’s heartbeat skyrocket. “I hope you know I don’t believe in the double soul nonsense.”

‘Duality principle,’ Luka wants to correct, suddenly feeling wide awake. There’s no way he’s ready to have that conversation with Marce or with anyone else, for that matter, so he keeps his eyes closed and his breath even long after he knows Marce has fallen asleep.

Eventually, Luka’s heartbeat calms down but the warm feeling of affection towards Marce prevails.

“So,” Marce drawls, “are you still claiming that you and Sergio aren’t fighting?”

“Yes,” Luka says curtly and he carefully doesn’t look at where Sergio is sitting alone on the bus, headphones over his ears, blasting music so loud they can hear it from across the aisle. “There’s nothing going on between me and Sergio.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Marce quips, probably thinking he’s being funny.

“Ha, ha,” Luka says and conjures a small smile on his face. He doesn’t want the fallout between him and Sergio affecting the rest of the team either.

Luckily, Marce starts talking to Clarice on the phone pretty soon after that and Luka can pretend to be enthralled by the scenery visible behind the bus window.

When they pull into the parking lot in Madrid, Sergio is out of the bus and making a beeline for his car before the others even start gathering their bags.

Marco is frowning at Sergio’s hastily retreating form and though Luka can’t really blame Sergio for making himself scarce, he’s annoyed that Sergio would leave the team with no parting words. They all know that sometimes a few aptly chosen words can mean the difference between finding their footing before the next game or getting hopelessly lost in the mulishness of their own dark thoughts.

Him and Marce round the guys up and give them the speech instead. A rather well received speech, Luka thinks.

Toni lingers to ask them, “Where the hell is Sergio?”

Marce looks at Luka, eyebrows raised.

Luka clears his throat. “I think he wasn’t feeling that good, maybe he’s still sick. Not quite fully recovered just yet, you know?”

Toni lets out a murmured “ah” of acceptance and then everyone is finally ready to head home.

“He didn’t seem sick to me at all,” Marce hisses to Luka, his hand clasping Luka’s shoulder in an iron grip.

“What do we know,” Luka says, yanking his shoulder free.

Gareth, who has stayed behind and heard them, spits on the ground and says. “He’s a bloody wanker, is what.”

Marce ignores that and asks Luka, “Are you sure you can’t do anything?”

“Quite sure,” Luka says and holds the small smile all the way to his car, forces the smile to stay plastered on his face until he’s safely home and finally alone.

There’s really nothing he can do – he’s done quite enough already.

Chapter Text

Playing Getafe, dinner later?

Luka blinks at the text from Ivan on his phone and wavers before typing the answer. He isn’t in the mood to go out tonight but on the other hand, it’s still better than sitting at home, waiting for the inevitable sound of the doorbell announcing Sergio wants to talk about what happened between them.

Come pick me up when you’re free, Luka types back to Ivan. It will be good to finally focus on something else than what’s been going on with Real and what’s been going on between him and Sergio.

Nothing has been going on between him and Sergio, Luka reminds himself firmly. Nothing could have been going on because they aren’t soulmates, Luka doesn’t have Sergio’s name on his wrist and Sergio will come to his senses and realize that too.

Actually, talking to Ivan starts to sound more and more appealing by the second. If nothing else, Ivan will be a good reminder why Luka did what he had to do all those years ago. Plus, he’ll get to speak Croatian again.

Luka goes to get ready. Tonight will be a good reminder why he can’t show any weakness, most certainly not now, when he has already made his choice and there isn’t anything to gain by taking risks. He’s just finished buttoning up his shirt when his phone starts ringing. Marcelo, the screen reads and Luka decides to put his phone on mute and ignore the call.

Ivan spikes up an olive and places it into his mouth and starts chewing slowly. Then he picks another one and chews on it with the same maddening calmness and a thoughtful expression on his face.

Luka kind of wants to grab a fistful of the olives and lob them into his mouth one by one just to disturb the serenity of Ivan’s chewing. It’s not his style, though, so he keeps his hands where they are, though his fingers itch to do something that would break Ivan’s calmness.

“How is it going?” Ivan inclines his head towards Luka’s hand. “With Ljubinka.”

Luka shrugs. “No progress. And her name is Spomenka.”

Ivan lets out a sympathetic sound. “No wonder,” he says before picking up another single olive. “All you do in your spare time is babysit those losers.”

“Ivan,” Luka growls as a warning.

Ivan rolls his eyes. “What? It’s true. If you didn’t have to keep an eye on Ramos all the time to make sure he doesn’t drunkenly bungee jump off a cliff–”

“Ivan!”

“Well, I just meant to say you would have more time to search for your soulmate.”

Their food arrives then and Luka, dismayed, finds that he’s not hungry anymore. He nibbles at his food and listens to Ivan chatter about his family life.

Then Ivan sets his fork aside and gives Luka an assessing look. “You’re miserable.”

“I am not,” Luka denies. They’ve been underperforming without Sergio out there on the pitch. Marce has tried his best – they all did – and there were matches they’ve won but it didn’t feel the same to Luka. Now Sergio is back and somehow things are even worse.

He wonders about the picture he makes. He knows there are dark circles under his eyes and he probably looks as tired as he feels. He hasn’t been sleeping well. There have been a lot of weird dreams lately, dreams with blood and violence, dreams that make him wake up tired and miserable. Dreams that remind him over and over again about the soulmark he doesn’t have any more.

Luka hasn’t been able to find rest since the moment the darned envelope arrived though his post.

“Luka,” Ivan says slowly. “I think. I think you need to let me help you.”

“Help me? With what?”

“With–”

“Wait, are you offering to transfer to Real?”

“Not funny, Luka.” Ivan doesn’t laugh and Luka pokes at his food some more, breaks a piece of the meat and nibbles on it. He’s sure it tastes divine but to him it might as well have been tree bark and he would hardly notice the difference. “I’m offering to try to help you find your Spomenka.”

Luka drops the fork, eyes boggling out. “What? No! Ivan, no!”

“Why the hell not?”

“There’s no need for that!” Luka stammers out, thinking quickly. Why wouldn’t he need to find his soulmate? What would be the logical reason that Ivan would accept?

“I think one of the sisters of the guy my cousin married last year is called Spomenka. Such an odd name,” Ivan says, then pauses. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… unusual. I mean… it’s unique. It fits you, of course. It’s just a bit of mouthful.”

“I happen to like the name.”

“Of course you do,” Ivan says softly.

“Anyway, thank you for the offer but I’ll have to decline.”

“Luka–”

“My mother is already arranging a meeting for me and this time she feels like she has found the right one. If she hears I have also asked you for your help with finding my soulmate, she’ll be offended I don’t trust her skills.”

“Oh,” Ivan says and then turns to chew meticulously on his food with the same care he gave to the olives. “I wouldn’t want to step on your mother’s toes,” he says.

Luka forces out a laughter.

“But if it doesn’t work out, hit me up, okay?” At Luka’s silence, Ivan quickly says, “I mean, just in case! It’s not that I don’t trust your mother’s matchmaking skills! She’s, she’s…”

Luka didn’t mean to make his friend uncomfortable so he fills in, “She is known to have been wrong about this before.”

“Exactly.”

It’s Luka’s fault his mother has that reputation. If she knew she can never find the right Spomenka no matter how hard she tries, she wouldn’t be looking and people wouldn’t be talking about her behind her back.

Luka shudders to think what they might be saying. ‘How desperate must she be to keep arranging these dates for Luka. He is their oldest and the only one who still hasn’t met his soulmate. Maybe there is something wrong with him.’

Luka sends his food back mostly untouched and tries not to feel guilty about that too, when the waiter takes it back into the kitchen with a worried frown. “Something wrong with the food, sir?”

“No, no. Nothing wrong with the food. The food is delicious, I’m just not hungry, sorry.”

Ivan takes a last gulp of his drink, watching the exchange between Luka and the waiter with a frown.

“If I see your mother,” Ivan starts and thankfully he is too busy patting himself to find his phone to see the way Luka goes all tense, “I’m telling her you’re skipping meals again.”

“Some friend you are,” Luka says, forcing some of the night air into his lungs.

“The best, aren’t I?”

Luka wonders if that would change if Ivan knew. “Yeah, you are.”

Chapter Text

It’s late by the time Luka gets back home but he isn’t surprised when the doorbell rings soon after he arrives. With trepidation, Luka peers into the surveillance camera and sure enough, it’s Sergio. God knows how long he has been waiting for Luka to come back.

“Go away,” Luka growls into the intercom.

“Luka, please.”

“Go. Away.”

“I’ll start begging if you want. Please, Luka. I fucked up. I know that, I do. Please let me come inside to apologise.”

Luka buzzes him in before Sergio starts making a scene for the whole street to see.

The few minutes before Sergio comes to the house are excruciatingly long. Luka paces around the room, then sits down on the couch, then feels like he needs to stand up again. He smoothes his shirt, tucks his hair behind his ears, glances at the door and regrets letting Sergio in. He circles the room once more and stops by the window. The dimly lit driveway is empty, Sergio must already be on his way up.

“Hey.” Sergio’s voice is quiet but Luka still flinches when he hears it.

“Why did you come here, Sergio?”

“To apologize.”

“Cool. You apologized. Now you can go.” With feigned indifference, Luka turns back to the window, even though it’s dark outside and what Luka can mostly see is the matt reflection of the room behind him. In the reflection, he sees as Sergio sits down without being prompted.

“I haven’t even begun apologising,” Sergio objects.

“Well, what do you want to say?” Luka turns around to face Sergio. He leans back against the window sill and keeps his voice calm. “Maybe you could start by explaining why you did it? Why couldn’t you just talk to me about it instead of–” Luka gestures to his wrist.

“You never want to talk about it! Not to me, not to Marcelo, not to anyone!”

Luka wonders how can Sergio be so certain about it. “Maybe you should have respected that.”

“I’m so–”

“Look, I know you are. It doesn’t change what you did it.”

“I know.” Sergio slumps forward, arms braced against his knees as he runs his palm against his lips. “Remember when I snapped at Gareth?” ‘Snapped’ is a word too kind for the level of acid Sergio used. Luka doesn’t say anything which Sergio takes as Luka not recalling the incident. “He said screw you and stormed off afterwards. After I advised him to make sure he still wants to be a part of our team.”

That’s not how Sergio had put it but Luka nods anyway. “Not one of your proudest moments either,” he says, voice cold.

Sergio hunches his shoulders. “Yeah, I know. But my point is, I know I say it so often that me saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“Sergio.”

“No. But Luka. I really, really am. Sorry, I mean. So fucking sorry. If I could take it back I would. I was happier when I didn’t know. But I was so sure I was right and that you were just being stubborn. I was really sure about it but still, I know I shouldn’t have touched your cover and I shouldn’t have looked at the name. I’m so fucking sorry, Luka. Please. I’m sorry.”

Luka feels his resolve waver but he keeps his voice even as he says, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Sergio’s eyes go wide. “Luka,” he starts, then trails off. He fixes his eyes on the table in front of him and in no time he’s reaching over to fiddle with an orange that he snatches from the fruit bowl.

Luka desperately tries to keep his emotions in check and once he feels he can trust his voice, he says, “I mean that.”

After a brief moment of silence, Sergio repeats, “I’m sorry.”

Luka shakes his head. “I don’t want your apology. Don’t you see? You crossed the line just because you felt entitled to. How do I get past that?”

Back when Luka still had the mark that read Sergio, it used to be his worst nightmare. That someone would come to him, manhandle him, take the cover away and that they would reveal the name that Luka has been so diligently hiding.

“What are you going to–” Sergio shuts himself up.

Luka understands the flash of uncertainty in Sergio’s eyes because the distress means Sergio is just now realizing what Luka might do in retaliation and what could be the consequences of Sergio’s rash actions.

Sergio doesn’t know that the fear he feels right now is the same Luka has been subjected to every day he had the soulmark. Sergio doesn’t know that Luka is on the same side. Sergio doesn’t know about the… Sergio doesn’t know anything.

Sergio must feel something though, something that makes him this reckless and desperate. Maybe Sergio knew the two of them were soulmates the first time they met.

Sergio must have Luka’s name.

Luka’s heart skips a beat. He never considered this, never pondered what would happen to the other side of the severed bond. He thought it would just stop existing but he was clearly wrong if Sergio’s tormented expression is anything to go by.

Luka wants to ask Sergio what he did when he first saw Luka’s name on his wrist.

Luka almost cried when he saw his. He was so angry at first, then he felt completely helpless. Then, terrified. He used to hate Sergio. Well, he didn’t use to hate this Sergio who is now sitting in a miserable heap on his couch. He used to hate the idea of a Sergio. Of a soulmate, his soulmate, who had to be a boy.

Hating Sergio for being the reason Luka’s wrist bore his mark was pointless now. It was all in the past, anyway. Spomenka made sure of that.

Luka has to be careful now, has to handle the pieces left behind by their shattered bond without making himself bleed as well. He came to terms with the fact that he won’t have a soulmate. Now Sergio will have to go through the same process. Thinking Luka’s soulmate is some random Spomenka will make it easier on him. It’s a merciful lie, for both of them. Better to believe Luka is fated to be with someone else than to realize Luka was meant to be his before Luka refused the bond. Luka refused the bond in his reckless youth, he decided to break them apart before they could be together. That was Luka’s cross to bear and it would make no sense to tell Sergio about this misery. Once again, Spomenka is going to be the smarter choice, the merciful lie. Spomenka has been serving as a merciful lie to Luka’s family for years, now it was time to let Sergio believe in her, too.

Luka becomes aware that Sergio’s eyes are on him and he tears himself from his musings. “I’m not going to do anything, Sergio,” he says.

Sergio hangs his head low and takes in a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt–” His voice breaks before he can finish his sentence. He curls even more into himself and just shakes his head.

Luka watches him in silence, trying to figure out what he can do get Sergio to leave without making Sergio think his life is over. To Sergio it must look like Luka is planning on settling down and starting a family with Spomenka.

Sergio doesn’t know – and he can’t know – but he doesn’t have to fear Luka. “It’s been a long fucking day, Sergio. Let’s forget about it.”

“Forget about it?” Sergio echoes dully. “Forget about what exactly? The part where we had this conversation? Or the part where I was so sure you were my soulmate I fucking ripped off your cover? Or the way– shit, I shouldn’t have done that, Luka, I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s forget about all of it,” Luka cuts off Sergio’s rant.

When Sergio laughs, there is to warmth in it. “How could you forget about any of that?”

“I can pretend,” Luka says. I’m really good at that, he thinks.

Sergio is quiet for a while, then admits, “I would have never done it if I wasn’t so sure. And I was, I was so sure. Luka, I–”

Luka wants to tell him right here and now.

But he can’t.

He wants to slide up next to Sergio, wrap his arms around him and console him, whisper calming words into his ear until the dark look goes away, until it no longer feels like something between them has shattered irrevocably.

It’s no use, feeling like this now. It’s too late. Luka knew his inclinations wouldn’t simply vanish together with his soulmark but he hasn’t been prepared to feel so much and care so deeply about someone who essentially isn’t his soulmate.

Even if they aren’t soulmates, they are friends. They have learned how to be friends despite the rocky beginnings. Maybe it was different to Sergio, who still had the soulmark on his wrist and who at some point must have started to assume the name belonged to Luka. But they can’t have this, Luka reminds himself.

Maybe people would be more accepting nowadays but Luka made his choice years ago and he has to live with the consequences. Luka purged the bond, he refused it. He had to refuse it if he wanted to chose football.

Little does it matter what he does or doesn’t want now.

He startles when Sergio’s fingers wrap around his shoulder and squeeze. Luka jerks away and Sergio leans back. “Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Don’t touch me again,” Luka says and watches the effect the words have on Sergio.

Sergio holds up his hands. “Sorry.”

“You were right, you know,” Luka says, trying to keep his tone light, “the more you say you’re sorry, the less it means to me.”

Sergio opens his mouth, then snaps it shut, probably holding back another apology. “I shouldn’t have done that,” Sergio says.

Done what? Luka wants to ask. Sergio shouldn’t have disrespected Luka’s privacy. Sergio shouldn’t have seen Luka’s so-called soulmark, Sergio shouldn’t have grabbed the cover, Sergio shouldn’t have come to apologise so soon. Sergio shouldn’t have thought they were soulmates.

“Yeah. You shouldn’t have done that,” Luka echoes. There are things Luka shouldn’t have done either. “But you know what? Let’s just forget about these last couple of days and focus on what’s important.”

“What’s important?” Sergio meets his gaze. He’s standing too close and Luka can see the naked emotions on his face.

Luka finds it hard to speak around the sudden lump in his throat. “The team. The games, we can’t afford to lose our focus now.”

“Of course.”

Luka can’t bear to see the pain in Sergio’s eyes without responding to it. He takes another step back, then another. “You should–” He makes a jerky motion to the door, then turns to stare out of the window again.

“Right. Sorry,” Sergio says, shuffling his feet. “It’s late, you must be tired.”

“Sergio–” There is nothing to see in the driveway. The night is dark. Sergio’s reflection hovers a few steps away from him. Luka never wanted so desperately for things to be normal again. “Sergio, I think… tomorrow, I think we should watch that film you talked about. The Autopsy of Joe… um.”

“Jane Doe?”

“Yes, that one. Let’s do that tomorrow.” Let’s pretend everything is fine.

“Ah. Want to come to my place?” There is something new in Sergio’s voice, something that makes it painfully clear just how ‘not fine’ things are.

Luka nods. “Text me when.” He remains frozen to his spot by the window as Sergio leaves the flat. He sees Sergio dart through the driveway and he stands by the window, staring into the night long after Sergio is gone and the house is quiet again.

Chapter Text

Armed with Sergio’s favourite takeout, Luka rings the doorbell. It’s not Sergio who answers the door, though.

“Oh. Hi, Dani.”

Dani waves Luka inside Sergio’s house. “Come in, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?” Luka echoes, hoping this is not an intervention. The last thing he needs is the whole team sticking their noses into this.

Dani slings his arm around Luka’s shoulders and steers him towards the living room. “Yeah, Sergio wouldn’t let us start the film without you. Did you really say you wanted to watch this film? I’d have never guessed.”

“Weird, huh?” Luka shrugs Dani’s arm off and offers him a smile as Dani studies him.

“Oh, great, more food!” Dani takes the boxes from Luka’s hand and heads to the kitchen.

Half of the guys from the team are in the living room and Luka spots Sergio at the other side of the room the moment he enters. Sergio looks up, studying Luka before raising his hand and waving at Luka in a greeting. There is a moment that passes and Luka isn’t sure if he should go say hi to Sergio the way he usually does but then Marce is there, hugging Luka and ruffling up his hair so it sticks in every direction.

“Look who’s here! Finally!”

Luka smoothes down his hair. “I wouldn’t miss a move night, would I?”

“You would. In a heartbeat,” Dani dismisses, coming back from the kitchen with one of the takeout boxes and a fork. He didn’t bother with finding a plate, wolfing down the food from the box. “Someone press the play, we’re all here.”

Marce makes sure Luka follows him to his seat on the couch which just so happens to be next to Sergio. Luka ends up squished to the other side of the couch where he proceeds to doze off after about forty minutes of the film. He wakes up to Marce’s barely suppressed laughter and Beze bending over him with a sharpie. Luka battles Beze’s arm off with a skilled practise and goes to check his reflection on his phone to see the damage.

Dani is shaking his head at Luka’s futile efforts to get the sharpie marks from his forehead. “I don’t get how you can just fall asleep during a film like that! Everything is so fucking creepy and you go out like a light? How?”

Luka didn’t get much sleep last night after Sergio had left. There was a lot on his mind and sleep was at the very bottom of Luka’s list. Now though, with the dark scenes from the film and the slow-paced plot and Marce’s dry comments about the obvious plot holes and with Sergio trying to shut Marce up by smothering him with a throw pillow, Luka felt comfortable enough close his eyes. He didn’t exactly plan to fall asleep, it just happened.

Luka jerks his head back to the TV. “How exactly is that unsettling? It’s not like you could picture it happening to you.”

“Not the point,” Sergio mutters. “The film is fucking creepy and you should be more worried about it.”

“The tinker of that fucking bell, right?” Benze says, nodding.

“The only thing he should worry about is not waking up when Dani glued the googly eyes to his back,” Marce chimes in.

“See, he gets it. I vote Marce to chose the next film,” Luka says. “Wait, what?” Luka twists around, trying to see the back of his hoodie. “Oh, man,” he grumbles, trying to peel off the unwanted addition to his outfit while the rest of them laugh at him.

Luka wakes up after four in the morning in Sergio’s guest room, feeling fully rested. The house is quiet as Luka makes his way downstairs. Some of the guys have slept over as well and there is someone snoring on the couch in the living room, completely covered by a blanket.

Luka doesn’t want to linger and he takes the longer way home to clear his head by a brisk walk in the chilly morning air.

The streets are deserted but just when he’s about to walk past Nadya’s shop, he spots Naranča struggling to open up the shop.

Luka crosses the street and helps her haul up the heavy window bars. “Hey, Naranča,” he says and she gives him a thankful smile. “How are you?”

She rolls her eyes. “What do I have to do to make you stop calling me that?” She unlocks the front door, switches on the lights and presses a code into the alarm, still talking to him.

Luka follows her inside, shaking his head. “No way. I like it, you’ll forever be Naranča to me. You don’t mind, do you?” Her hair is back to being pitch black. She’s growing it out, it’s already past her chin.

“You’re our first customer today so you can get away with it.” She rolls her eyes again and grabs three oranges from a fruit crate. “One glass orange juice, coming right up.”

“Thanks.” He quietly watches her work but then Naranča pours the juice into a glass, grabs a cookie cutter and the orange peel and in no time there is a star being wedged on the brim of the glass. Two dried cloves and the star looks like it’s watching Luka. Four more and it has a smile, too. “What’s that?”

“You looked like you could use a smile.” She adds an orange wedge and a mint leaf and a straw and Luka grimaces.

“Thanks,” he says again.

“Want to tell me what’s bugging you?” Naranča asks as she starts cleaning the tools she’d used. “I have to warn you though, I charge extra for giving advice.”

Luka feels the corner of his lips twitch. “I think I’ll pass.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m an awesome agony aunt.”

“I have no doubts,” Luka says and takes a sip of the orange juice. “I have a court hearing.” It’s going to be all over the news in no time anyway. The moment he’s spotted in Zagreb, the news will get out. “Nothing you can do about that.”

“Ah. Sorry to hear that.”

He waves his hand, dismissive. The actual morning customers start pouring into the shop and placing their orders, so Luka grabs the juice and takes it to a table near the window.

Chapter Text

Luka picks up the envelope and peers inside to make sure the letter is there. He folds it and puts it into the inner pocket of his suit because he doesn’t want anyone else reading it. He can feel the envelope pressing into his chest and every now and then he raises his hand and nervously touches the pocket as if to make sure the letter is still there.

“When did you say you will be home?” His mother asks into the phone, sounding excited.

Luka squeezes the bridge of the nose. “I have to fly in Tuesday evening.” The court hearing takes place the following day, shortly before the noon, and he needs to meet with his lawyer before that.

“Good, good,” his mother says but there’s nothing good about the situation at all. “Let me know once you’re done.”

“Of course, mother,” Luka agrees. She could be his first phone call from behind the bars, he thinks, a little hysteric.

They touch down in Zagreb two hours later than scheduled. The sun has settled and the sky has an ominous purple tinge. Luka drives through the city, fingers winding tight around the steering wheel as he watches the yellowing street lights that hang between the houses on both sides of the streets, suspended on a thin line that stretches across the road. Each time he passes underneath a street light, it briefly casts its yellow gleam into his car before the flickering shadows return. The radio has switched on automatically and Luka lets it play without processing which songs are being played. Then the news comes up and Luka does notice then because his name is mentioned.

He doesn’t manage to switch it off before he hears all about the trial from the media’s perspective. It makes his stomach turn.

He hasn’t been really relaxed since the moment the letter with the date of the court hearing came and the perpetual state of tension has left its mark on him. He’s exhausted, he sleeps poorly, his hands keep sweating and his heart starts picking up speed at seemingly random moments throughout the day – whenever his thought stray towards the trial. And his thoughts stray often.

Luka stops at a red light and waits for a blue tram to pass.

His mind goes through all that could go really, really bad for him. The outcome of the hearing could be dire. If someone has figured out the truth about his ‘soulmark’, the court could order him to prove or disprove the claim and he would be forced to reveal the tattoo to everyone. Most courts have experts on soulmarks who can verify the authenticity of a mark through a series of tests – sadly, frauds regarding falsification of soulmarks are all too common.

But Luka didn’t modify his mark to gain any material possession or any unfair advantage. He didn’t deceive or trick anyone into marriage under false pretences.

He did lie to everyone, though.

He spent weeks looking up any possible regulations concerning soulmark removals but he hasn’t found anything that could be related to his particular case.

The hearing is scheduled for tomorrow morning. He’ll know then. It’s a sickening thought.

His Zagreb house is cold and dark when he gets there. He draws the blinds and switches on all the lights. There is nothing to see outside anyway, the outline of the mountains has blended into the darkness completely.

Luka goes through the motions of his night time routine but when he climbs into the bed, he realizes he’s too anxious to fall asleep.

He picks up his phone. It’s not so late.

He dials Sergio’s number, hoping that hearing Sergio’s voice and his goofy comments could offer him some comfort.

“… and I miss Madrid already,” Luka complains. “Remind me to buy a new mattress, this one is all lumpy.”

“You wouldn’t mind if you were more tired.”

“I’m too tired to sleep, Sergio. It’s… the hearing is tomorrow–”

“I know.”

“–and I want to be anywhere but here. I want to be back in Madrid already.”

A thought comes unbidden to his mind – if the judge’s verdict isn’t in Luka’s favour tomorrow, they might detain him and he won’t be able to go back to Madrid at all.

Luka balls his hand into a fist. He has to stop thinking like that. He needs to focus on picturing the positive outcome. The court won’t give him any sentence. He will be catching a late plane back to Madrid. This time tomorrow, he could be back at his place, lying in his own bed.

Sergio chuckles. “You missed Madrid so you called me? I’m touched, Luka, really.”

“Shut up.”

“What do you know, the distance really makes the heart grow fonder.”

The distance between them is a horrible thing. The winter break will be there in no time and Luka will go back home to Croatia while Sergio will be spending the break with his family. And it will feel pretty much like right now, the house will be cold and hostile and his mother will be overbearing and his father will try his best to hide his disappointment in him and everyone else will be having a good time while Luka won’t. He would much prefer to be a part of the annual madness Sergio always describes.

“Yeah,” he croaks into the phone, “I definitely like you better when I’m not around you.”

“Yeah, exactly. Wait… What?!” Sergio tries to sound outraged but he’s also laughing and Luka closes his eyes, committing the sound to his memory. Just in case things go badly tomorrow.

Luka hates wearing a tie. It fits all too snugly around his neck and he feels like he can’t breathe. The suit is unyielding and the shoes, though they fit on his feet perfectly, are rough and so unlike the sneakers he prefers when he’s not on the pitch. He feels all wrong footed, quite literally.

There are cameras everywhere, every TV station in the nation keeps shoving a microphone to his face, demanding he tries to guess the outcome of today’s hearing. Luka doesn’t even know what is the reason the hearing takes place in the first place but he tries to be patient with the media. There are people from other countries, too, demanding he answers in English one moment and in Spanish the very next, with no rhyme or reason, and he constantly has to switch between the three languages before they even let him inside of the building.

He goes through the security, they pat him down, they make him walk through a frame that’s a metal detector, they give him some papers to sign about the procedure. He grabs a pen that is offered to him and plasters his signature across the dotted line. It’s only after he has signed it he realizes he used the signature he has for his fans’ signing and other football related PR activities and not the signature he has on his legal documents. He wonders if he should tell the head of the security and sign the papers again of if it doesn’t matter to them. What if they look into the other papers he’ll need to sign in front of the court and realize the signatures don’t match? The last thing he needs is to be accused of a fraud. He nibbles on his lip, nervous. Does he need to bother the security about this? Should he ask his attorney?

‘Stop being an idiot, Luka. Just ask them,’ advices Sergio’s voice in Luka’s mind. Sergio wouldn’t care, he would proclaim loudly that he made a mistake and ask if he needed to sign the papers again and he wouldn’t even blink twice.

Luka can’t speak up, his throat is parched and he feels like he might lose the modest breakfast he managed to stomach down if he so much as opened his mouth.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the signature and hopes it won’t come back to bite him in the ass.

The courtroom is opulent, there’s wood and brass everywhere. There are marble tiles in the hallway and goddamned chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, shining in that type of light that’s more yellow than white. Behind the jury is a huge state symbol with the chequered pieces made in various depth, giving it plasticity.

When he enters the courtroom, there is a sudden hush, all the murmured conversation stopping, faces turning to look at him.

Luka searches the sea of faces, wondering if he could still recognise the face of the man who removed his soulmark. He was just a kid and the man was probably in his late forties. Luka has no idea what he could look like now.

Luka goes to take his place, facing directly the state emblem as well as three pairs of inquisitive eyes and he feels tiny.

“Try not to look so nervous,” his attorney murmurs. “It looks suspicious.”

Luka wipes his sweaty palms against his thighs. He doesn’t attempt to smile.

The judge starts speaking and Luka tries to keep up with all that is being said but he just can’t. It’s all terms he doesn’t understands and quoting numbers and letters that mean nothing to him but his attorney gives him a nod when he catches Luka’s desperate gaze.

All Luka knows is that the term ‘soulmate’ hasn’t been mentioned once.

It takes nearly an hour for him to realize the hearing is not a hearing at all. It’s no new legal case being opened against him. It has nothing to do with his ‘soulmark’. It’s about the perjury and the allegedly false account of the years-old transfer circumstances he gave. Luka didn’t know they were still looking into that. The moment his attorney got the paperwork and told him he had nothing to fear, the case had completely slipped Luka’s mind.

He wants to laugh in relief and it’s really, really hard not to. He hangs his head, hair falling to his face, hopefully helping to obscure the tiny smile that he can’t keep from appearing on his face.

It’s not a hearing at all. There won’t be any need for him to testify again. They’re just here so they can tell him the case has been dismissed. Well, Luka is pretty confident that’s what going to happen next.

He tunes out the rest of the judge’s mumbo-jumbo because all he can focus on is the knowledge that his secret is still a secret.

Chapter Text

Luka is on the phone to Sergio the moment he’s out of the building. He needs to tell Sergio, he needs to share this intense feeling of relief that has flooded his veins. He doesn’t know where to begin, he doesn’t know what to tell Sergio first but Sergio doesn’t interrupt him once as Luka talks a mile a minute. He gets to his car, puts Sergio on a loudspeaker and drives himself back home. The traffic is worse now than it was early in the morning and definitely worse than it was at night when Luka drove himself from the airport. It takes a while until Luka is pulling into his driveway.

“… so they’ll officially dismiss the case tomorrow and I can come back to Madrid the next day. My attorney said there’s nothing to worry about.”

“And that’s it?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Luka says.

“And that’s what you’ve been freaking out about? Man, what were you thinking?”

Luka wedges the phone between his shoulder and his cheek as he unlocks the door to his house. “I didn’t know, okay?”

“What was your worst case scenario?”

Luka doesn’t reply.

“Tell me,” Sergio demands.

“Not over the phone, Sergio.” Not over the phone and definitely not in person. Hopefully, by the time Luka gets back, Sergio will be preoccupied with some other pressing issue and the topic would be long forgotten.

“Ah. Sorry.”

“I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Of course, you–”

Sergio’s voice gets drowned in Luka’s mother shrill cry. “Luka! Where have you been! I was worried sick, why didn’t you call me?”

“Mother?” Luka gapes at her in disbelief. She must have let herself in, he wasn’t supposed to meet her at all. She has the keys to his house in case she would need to tend to the property when he’s in Madrid.

“Oh, Luka, come here, give your mother a hug.”

Luka realizes he still has Sergio on the line. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.” He hangs up before Sergio responds.

“Hello, mother,” Luka says and steps close to her to pull her into a brief, one armed hug.

“Are you all right? Tell me, how did it go? What did they say?”

“It went really well, mother,” Luka says. “They should announce it tomorrow but I’ve been told it’s only a formality at this point.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news, Luka! Everyone was so worried! Imagine what would people say if you–”

“Right,” Luka says. “They couldn’t have had that, could they.”

“What time do you need to be there tomorrow?”

“Same as today.”

“Good, good,” his mother nods. “Then you should be free for lunch tomorrow, am I correct?”

“Yes, mother,” Luka answers, suspicion rising. His mother and him, they don’t eat out together at restaurants and if she was cooking a meal back at her house, she wouldn’t be inquiring about the time with such care.

“I’ll make a reservation,” his mother tells Luka. “At one o’clock. You won’t be late, will you?”

“Of course not. Where are we meeting?”

“At Agave. Nothing too big or fancy, I wanted it to have the atmosphere of a cosy home,” she waves her hand and Luka notices she’s wearing the ring he has bought her for Christmas last year. It makes him smile. He’ll need to think of something nice this year. Pity he can’t just buy her new jewellery each year.

“All right. Agave, one o’clock, I’ll be there. I’ll text you if anything changes.”

“I want to make sure you’re eating. You haven’t been skipping meals, have you?”

“No, mother.”

“Really? Because you’re thinner than you were last time I saw you. You aren’t eating enough.”

Luka hasn’t been sleeping or eating enough since the letter but now that the weight has been lifted from his shoulders, that’s about to change.

He should have known. He should have known the moment his mother told him about the reservation she has made. But he was still too caught up in his relief about the court being finally over to realize his mother didn’t mean he will be meeting with her for lunch.

They usher him to a table the moment the waiter notices him entering. It’s probably their best table with a lovely view of the trees down on the street. They probably have moved up other tables that are normally there so they could provide a secluded spot.

There is a girl already waiting for him. It’s five minutes to one.

She raises up from the table, smiling at him. Her eyes are huge and intensely blue, her smile wide and her lips are deep red. She’s wearing a dress so formal Luka is suddenly glad he’s wearing the same clothes he picked for the court.

She offers him her hand. “Hi, I’m Spomenka.”

Luka grips her hand so tight it’s a wonder she doesn’t wince.

How stupid he has been to think his worries would be gone with the courts’ dismissal. Nothing has changed. Nothing at all.

“Well?” Luka’s mother is on him the moment he steps though the door.

“It wasn’t her,” he says, like he’s said so many times before.

His mother clucks her tongue, disappointed. “Next time, it will be her,” she says with a fierce conviction and Luka doesn’t have the guts to tell her otherwise. “Come here,” she says and when he does, she gives him a hug and drops a kiss to his cheek.

Luka pulls away, both embarrassed and guilty. It doesn’t matter how many Spomenkas can his mother get to go on a date with him. None of them will be his soulmate.

His mother looks crushed for the rest of the evening, she must have really had her hopes up for this one.

Luka wonders if asking the next Spomenka on a second date would make things better or worse.

His mother would be ecstatic and he could pretend for a while. He wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever, though. The fallout might be just as bad as the current situation, if not worse.

In the short term, though, it would get everyone off his case. He has had enough of people setting him up on dates with candidates to be his soulmate. Today has been one date too many.

Later that night, Luka slips off the cover and stares down at his wrist. Feather light, he traces the shape of the S on his skin. He thought he was being clever when he picked the name. Spomenka. A remembrance. Because he was always going to keep the memory of the choice he has made. A choice to trade soulbond for football. He thought it would be funny, to pick the name as a memento when it’s the very meaning of the name.

He thought it was an excellent trade-off. A soulmate he didn’t want for a football career that looked so promising. He knew he had enough things going against him as it was. He couldn’t add the soulmate thing into the equation. He would have never moved up if the word got out about the soulmark on his wrist.

It was a good choice – or at least he thought so back then, when he was a kid and learnt not to expect things to go easy. When he was twelve, it was a no-brainer. Now he’s staring at the initial letter and he isn’t so sure anymore.

Chapter Text

Instead of driving back to his place, Luka stays overnight at his mother’s. It’s the middle of a night and he’s still wide awake, unable to fall asleep. His mother is up as well, Luka can hear the muffled sounds from the TV down in the living room.

Luka gives it another half an hour but then he gets up and paddles down the stairs. He misses how close they were before the soulmark. Before he started lying to her.

“Hello, mother,” he says quietly as he steps inside the living room. He doesn’t want to startle her but she still flinches, her hand flying to her chest.

“Luka, you gave me a scare.”

“Sorry, mother,” he says, sitting at the footstool near her wing chair. She picks up her needle again and rolls the thread in her fingers, tightening the knots. She’s adding a looped edging to a squared piece of reticella. He remembers watching her work as a kid, all confused about how a single thread can turn and twist to create something tangible in her nimble fingers.

“You almost gave me a heart attack. Couldn’t sleep, could you?” She says, adjusting the size of one loop with immense patience.

“You are up as well,” he points out, defensive. Long Dark Night is playing on the TV and Luka frowns at the screen.

“It’s the series, not the film,” his mother says as if she could hear this thoughts.

“Oh. I see.”

“Sometimes I think that the shows they broadcast overnight are even worse than the daytime TV,” she says without glancing up from her needlework. Luka makes a noncommittal noise and watches her tug and loop the thread until she finishes a row and sets it aside. “You worry me, Luka.”

“I’m alright, mother,” he says and looks up at her from where he is sitting. He can’t see her face very well, the room is mostly dark and she has a lamp switched on behind her so she can see the lace clearly. The glare from the light has him squinting his eyes. “It’s just… with the court and everything that has been going on lately, I find it difficult to fall asleep tonight. It doesn’t feel real.”

“I’m really sorry the girl today was not your soulmate,” she says and Luka can barely contain the upset twist of his mouth. “I really need to be more careful next time.”

“Mother, there is no need–”

“Yes, there is a need,” she says briskly. “Do you remember Mirica’s daughter?”

“Yes.” How could he not, with his mother quilt-tripping him into meeting up with her.

“I can’t believe how wrong I was about that girl! It’s a real shame. Mirica has been in tears for weeks.”

“Because I wasn’t her soulmate?” Luka asks, shifting uncomfortably on the footstool. He didn’t want to cause them any hardship.

“Heavens, no! It’s not your fault. It’s because of her daughter,” Luka’s mother makes a pause and Luka knows it in that moment. He knows what the next words out of her mouth will be and he knows exactly what kind of juicy gossip got his mother this agitated and left Mirica inconsolable. “Her daughter,” Luka’s mother says slowly, “has run off to Velika Kaniža with some girl!”

Luka doesn’t know what to do with his face. Does he feign shock, disgust or disbelief? “She… she found her soulmate?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you know it couldn’t have been that,” his mother admonishes. “She can’t have a girl’s name on her wrist.”

Luka’s heartbeat picks up. “Why not?”

“Well, if she does, then it’s not her soulmate,” his mother scoffs. “Their souls can’t be balanced. Spomenka would need to find a male counterpart! Not some random girl!”

Luka places his shaking hands in his lap. He is just as nervous as he has been in the court room. “Mother–”

“I thought you knew about the wrongness of the double soul, Luka. What’s with all these questions?”

It’s not Mirica’s daughter they’re talking about but his mother doesn’t know it. Luka’s voice is quiet and he can hardly believe the words actually make it past his lips. “I don’t believe in the duality principle,” Luka says.

“You… don’t?” Luka has never heard his mother sound so incredulous.

“Um. It’s just theories. No one knows how it really works.”

“Then why are you defending them, Luka?”

“It matters to me,” Luka says.

“But it doesn’t concern you! She has made her choice and it was a wrong choice but it doesn’t matter, Luka. She wasn’t your Spomenka. You would have known it if she was.”

His mother’s words pierce through him, opening all the old wounds. It’s simply too much to bear, the walls he’s build start crumbling because he’s too tired to keep them up. There’s nothing he can do about it but embrace the pain that is overpowering him, escaping from where he had managed to keep it contained. It’s poisoning him, bit by bit.

“I wish you would stop trying to set me up on dates,” Luka hears himself saying. “It’s pointless.”

“Luka, I know you are upset that the last two girls weren’t your soulmate but you’ll never find her if you don’t look.”

Luka didn’t know it when he first met his soulmate. But he knows it now. He wants his mother to stop trying and setting them both up for an inevitable failure.

Luka draws in a breath. “I already found him,” he says.

The words hang between them. A moment passes, then another. In the next few seconds, whole centuries come and go. His mother doesn’t say anything but Luka physically feels the distance between her wing chair and his footstool grow. There’s a chasm between him and her that he’s created. But he feels light. He feels so light it worries him a little. His ears are ringing. He leans forward a little, arms braced against his knees. He feels sick to his stomach and his heart is beating so madly he can feel the pulse in his throat.

His mother makes a choked sound and Luka’s eyes fly up. She is ashen and her lips are parted but she doesn’t say anything, there are only the gut-wrenching choking sounds coming from her.

“Mother?” Luka is on his feet that instant, worried he has really given her a heart attack. Panicked, he runs to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. He leans over to her, offering the glass to her lips. “Mother.”

She smacks his hand away. He lets go of the glass in surprise and it plunks down on the floor, water spilling, glass shattering.

She raises her hands to him, one grabbing the front of his shirt to bring him closer, the other grappling with his cover.

Oh. He shakes off her fingers and undoes the cover. Then he holds his wrist up for an inspection. She pulls it closer to her, studies it under the sharp light of the lamp.

He knows the exact moment she notices the scar.

She doesn’t want to believe it. Even though he told her, even though she can see the tattoo on his wrist, there is still denial on her face.

“Luka, this can’t be.” She shakes her head. “Your father and I didn’t–”

“Don’t put words in his mouth,” Luka says sharply, interrupting her. He can’t recall ever being so rude to her. He waits for her to say something, to scold him off or talk over him but she doesn’t finish her sentence.

She stares at him and he looks back into her eyes and neither of them says anything. Then she grips his wrist even tighter and pulls it closer to the light, turning it to a different angle, as if the scar was just a mirage that could disappear if she looked long enough.

Softly, Luka speaks up, “Aren’t you going to ask who he is?”

His mother drops his hand as if she got burned and she shoves him away. “Get out of my house.”

“Wha–”

“Out!” In a sudden burst of anger, she jumps up from the armchair and shoves at him again. “I won’t stand for you saying such nonsense! Out!”

She runs past him and he can hear her stomp up the stairs but he can’t move, frozen to the spot, her words echoing in his mind. His thoughts turn fuzzy in his head.

His mother is back in a flash, shoving a couple of random things into his arms. “Here. Your keys and your phone. Grab the jacket and the shoes and go!”

Luka lets her manoeuvre him to the door.

“I don’t– I can’t–” She starts but she isn’t able to form any sentence. Her eyes well up with tears and the sight cuts through Luka like a knife.

“Mother, I never wanted this.”

“I don’t want to see you again unless you come to your senses,” his mother says.

Luka says something back to her, begging, pleading, trying to explain that he didn’t chose this, he didn’t want this. He did all he could to get rid of it. Luka doesn’t hear his own words, the ringing in his ears is horrible and his breath is coming short. She’s not listening either.

Luka is shoved outside. The door is slammed shut.

Luka can’t process it. His thoughts are slow and hazed, there are too many of them and he can’t grasp any. He still feels unnaturally light, like he might just float away with a sudden gust of wind.

Luka stays on the other side of the door until he registers the coldness of the night. He can’t keep standing there. He should do something. He should go. He doesn’t do anything.

He should go. Go where? Go home. But home is on the other side of the door and the door remains shut. His empty house across the town isn’t his home either.

Luka watches his hand as it reaches for his phone.

It doesn’t occur to him how late it is until the call goes through.

“Sergio?”

“Hey, Lukita! How is my favourite–” Sergio starts, tone light. He doesn’t question Luka calling him at such ungodly hour. Luka is glad because he couldn’t answer Sergio if he asked.

“Think you could come pick me up from the airport?” He’s too shaken up to drive. He’s way too upset to have anyone else see him like this.

“Ah, sure thing man. You’ll be here tomorrow afternoon, right?”

“Actually, I’m arriving at seven in the morning. Later today.” Luka bites his lip. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, no problem. Did anything happen?”

Luka can’t answer him. “I’ll call you when we land,” he says and gets himself a cab to Zagreb’s airport.

Chapter Text

“Luka, what the hell happened, I thought you said everything went fine?”

Luka is hauled into a bone-crushing hug and it says a lot that he doesn’t immediately try to escape it.

“Everything went fine,” Luka assures. “With the court.”

“And then what?” Sergio prompts, grabbing Luka’s bags, throwing them in the back of his car and nudging Luka into the passenger’s seat.

Luka pushes the sunglasses up his nose. “Can you just drive me home?”

Sergio gets behind the wheel. “Okay.”

Sergio turns on the radio and Luka lets his thoughts float until they reach an intersection where Sergio should have turned left.

“Sergio–”

“Don’t even try to argue with me,” Sergio says. “You’re obviously not okay and I’m not letting you out of my sight. And I’m driving you home, like you asked.”

Luka keeps quiet for the rest of the way to Sergio’s house.

Sergio helps him get the bags to the guest room and Luka doesn’t even have the strength to argue about it. “This is for you,” he says.

Sergio’s eyebrows disappear to his hairline. “That’s like, uh, a whole cart of maraskino bottles.”

It’s not a question but Sergio’s tone still makes Luka defensive. “I don’t know when I’ll go back so better safe than sorry, right?”

“Uh. Thanks.”

“I know Gareth drank the last bottle I gave you.”

“He did! He doesn’t even like it, I bet it was Toni who dared him.” Sergio picks up one bottle, slings his arm around Luka’s shoulders and steers him down the stairs, back to the living room.

“Good to know you’re on speaking terms again.”

“Yeah,” Sergio perks up. “We are. Thanks for the tip. Speaking of tips–”

Luka shakes off Sergio’s arm, tensing.

“–I’ve heard that we simply must see The Nun.”

Luka blinks. “Um.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Sergio says, “I’ll ring for pizza. And I won’t even make gagging noises and let you eat your jalapeños, anchovies and pineapple monstrosity in peace, I swear.”

“You’re missing out,” Luka says and Sergio immediately starts making gagging noises. Luka half-heartedly elbows him in the ribs. “You don’t know what’s good for you.”

“Puh. Luka, my friend, you don’t know it either,” Sergio comments, grabbing his phone while Luka is still pondering his words.

The film doesn’t offer much more than a few predictably-timed jumpscares and Luka finds himself dozing off, listing heavily into Sergio on the couch. He only got a little sleep on the plane back to Madrid but other than that he stayed up the whole night, the conversation with his mother on a loop in his head. He’s drained.

“You should go to bed,” Sergio says quietly.

Luka sighs and shifts so that his cheek is nestled more comfortably into Sergio’s shoulder. “It’s morning.”

“You’re falling asleep on me,” Sergio says but he doesn’t move so Luka doesn’t think he needs to move either.

“Put on The Lonely Bones,” Luka says around a yawn.

“I think you mean The Lovely Bones,” Sergio corrects him fondly and puts on the film. Neither of them are really watching it, Luka is too tired to focus on the story and Sergio has that slight frown on his brow that means he’s trying to puzzle out what the hell happened to Luka to make him this upset.

Luka can almost hear the questions bubbling to the surface. He sighs. “What?”

Sergio makes a face. “You don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t,” Luka confirms. “But you’re not letting it go. So out with it.”

“It was your mother, wasn’t it? You sounded fine when you called me and then you said she was there and hung up the phone. Next thing I know, I’m picking you up from the airport a whole day ahead of the schedule.”

“Sorry.”

“Not the point,” Sergio says. “You know I was going to be up anyway. I went for a run. You’re avoiding the question. Which means it was your mother. What did she do?”

Luka turns down the volume on the TV. “What makes you think it was something she did?” he counters.

Sergio waves him off. “You wouldn’t be this miserable. You’re blaming yourself for… what? Disappointing her? Hurting her? Oh! Luka, did she set you up on another date? Is that it?”

“No,” Luka says quickly, then backtracks. “Well, yes, she did – but that’s not it.” Sergio watches him expectantly and Luka heaves a sigh. “My mother was rather dismayed to learn I don’t believe in the duality principle.”

“Uh. The what now?”

Luka would very much prefer to have this particular conversation exactly never. “The so-called double soul controversy,” he says with an annoyed twist of his mouth. Sergio still doesn’t look any wiser so Luka snaps, “I told my mother that believing a true soul has to be a union of male and female part is just a steaming pile of bullshit.”

“In those exact words?”

“Fuck you,” Luka says, “I didn’t get thrown out of the house for you to make jokes about it!”

“Whoa, whoa.” Sergio holds his hands up. “Back up. Did you just say she threw you out?”

Luka can’t speak around the lump that has started to form in his throat so he just nods mutely.

“Oh, Luka.” Sergio wraps his arms around him and pulls Luka into an embrace. His hands are running up and down Luka’s back and Luka shuts his eyes and savours the little comfort the contact provides. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. And it’s not like I didn’t know how she feels about the issue,” Luka manages to say. “Back home, she’s not the only one against same-based bonds.” Back ‘home’, huh.

“But why would you say that to her if you knew how she’d react?” Before Luka figures out how to answer it, Sergio goes perfectly still. He lets go of Luka and Luka immediately misses the warmth. “Luka. Lukita, did you get into a fight with your mum because of me?”

“Well. Um.” Not exactly. “No.”

“Is it because of my soulmark that–” Sergio abruptly falls silent. “You know what? You were right. You didn’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to. I can see you really need to catch up on your sleep. C’mon. Let’s get you to your room.”

Sergio stands up and offers his hand to Luka to pull him up on his feet.

“You’ll feel better once you’ve slept a little. I’ll wake you up in time for the practise. We can stop by your place to grab your things before it.”

“Don’t need anything,” Luka mumbles. He’s got all he needs in the guest room, he’s got his clothes in his bags from Zagreb and the rest of his stuff is at the facility. “Just wake me up in time.” He wasn’t scheduled for the training this afternoon but it will be nice to have something to keep his body busy and his mind occupied. Maybe he’ll even get some rest if he manages to close his eyes.

Sergio walks with him upstairs to show him to the guest room, as if Luka didn’t know the way himself. Sergio keeps his hand on the small of Luka’s back so Luka doesn’t complain, glad to know not everyone has turned away from him.

Chapter Text

Luka is leaving the doctors’ office when he runs into Gareth. Gareth seems surprised to see Luka there and stops to talk to Luka, even though he is obviously running late.

“The shin again?” Gareth asks.

“Declared fit to play the whole ninety minutes,” Luka assures, although his left leg is still tingling from being pulled and twisted into every angle imaginable to check the movement range. “You?”

Gareth shrugs. “You know how they are.”

“Yeah. It sucks.”

Gareth nods and makes to move to the doctor’s door. Luka stops him with a touch to his arm. “There is a team bonding night tonight.”

Gareth looks down at him. “I thought Sergio hated that term.”

“He does,” Luka agrees. “So, I’ll see you tonight?”

“I… Luka, I don’t know if I’ll be cleared,” Gareth admits quietly.

“It’s not like the meetings are reserved for the active line-ups only.”

Gareth scoffs. “Sure does feel like it, sometimes.”

Luka reaches out to clasp his hand around Gareth’s shoulder and says, in a tone that’s neither a request nor a command, “I’ll see you there, Gaz.”

They defeat Alavés 3–0 so the bonding night turns into a proper celebration.

It’s a busy event and Luka barely gets to exchange any words with Sergio. Benze stays glued to Sergio’s side as they recount again and again the way Benze’s goal went it. Vini gets praised too, and the boy’s eyes are shining bright and his smile is very wide as he enjoys his place in the spotlight.

Luka is soaking up the atmosphere, feeling light until he notices that not everyone is enjoying the night. Even though he was cleared and got to play, there is something pained lurking in Gareth’s eyes so Luka grabs another two drinks and slides into the seat next to him.

“Here, bottoms up,” he says as he pushes one of the glasses toward Gareth.

Gareth shakes his head and indicates his glass with the drink he’s been nursing basically the whole evening. Luka would bet serious money on the drink not having any alcohol in it.

“Live a little,” Luka says, insistently tapping the side of the glass.

“I’m good, thanks,” Gareth dismisses, the corner of his mouth turning up in a grimace of a smile.

“Oh, c’mon!” Luka says. “Is this still about Toni getting you drunk that one time? He does it to everyone, don’t take it personally.”

“I won’t be hoodwinked like that ever again,” Gareth says insistently. “But no, I wouldn’t expect you to try sneaking god knows what into my drink.”

“See?” Luka nudges the glass again and it skates closer towards Gareth, a bit of the liquid sloshing over the brim and dripping onto the table. Gareth doesn’t move so Luka pulls one of the paper napkins from the disposer and soaks up the spill.

“I can’t,” Gareth says.

“What the hell, Gaz.”

“Painkillers,” Gareth hisses low under his breath.

“Oh,” Luka says and the expression on Gareth’s face grows darker. “More for me, then,” Luka says quickly, trying to keep his tone light. He grabs the drink he gave Gareth and sets it in front of himself.

So much for brightening Gareth’s mood.

At some point during the night, someone has the bright idea to bring up the PR thing that crashed after they tried to shoot the first part. It was a complete disaster. Toni and Isco were supposed to answer questions about each other but neither of them knew anything about the other. Or was it Marce with Dani? Luka can’t remember. He remembers it was a bust though, and now they’re having a good laugh about it again.

“You sucked at it!” Marce laughs. “One would think it was your first week in here!”

“Well, they were asking only stupid questions!” Toni huffs. “Fucking stupid! I’d like to see how you’d do!”

Benze is shaking his head. “But Toni, how the hell did you not know Isco’s full name?”

“Oh fuck off,” Toni says. Oh, so it was the two of them.

“The questions were impossible, really,” Isco insists.

“Yeah? Like what?” Sergio asks, raising his voice to join in on the conversation from the opposite table.

“Like, name the other’s hometown!”

Luka snickers into his glass and Sergio laughs out loud. “You call that impossible to know?”

“I’d like to see you try, you fucker,” Isco challenges.

“For real?”

“For real!”

“Sure, no problem.”

“You both should try!” Isco decides and reaches over to shake Luka.

“What? I didn’t say anything!” Luka protests.

“I saw you were laughing, Modrić,” Toni grunts darkly and that decides it.

“I was not,” Luka says but he knows he already lost. The other guys are turning to watch them and they’re quickly becoming an attraction of the night.

“Are you forfeiting already?” Isco asks.

“No way,” Sergio says quickly, elbowing Luka’s side.

“All right,” Luka concedes.

“Great!” Dani clasps his hands. “Does anyone have some paper?”

“Not so fast,” Sergio says. “Who are we playing against?”

Toni and Isco, much to their chagrin, get roped into it again.

“We’ve already done this,” Isco tries to reason. “We’ll have an advantage.”

“Did you actually bother to ask for the correct answers?” Dani squints his eyes at them.

“Well, no,” Toni admits. “But–”

“Then we’re good to go! And we can always make up new questions. Right?”

“Right. Bring it on,” Luka agrees. “We’ll crush them.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Sergio says, swinging his chair around and facing Luka with a grin.

“Let’s start with the good ones,” Dani tells them. “What is the other’s favourite drink? Write down your favourite and which one you think is your partner’s favourite.”

“Ha, that’s a tough one,” Benze snickers but Marce shakes his head.

“Sergio knows this one, right?”

Sergio nods. Luka is done with his answers, too.

Isco makes a face when he sees that his and Toni’s answers don’t match, unlike Luka and Sergio’s. Sergio gives Luka a high-five and they move onto the next question and then the next and the next.

Then Dani asks, “When was the last time you cried?”

“Are you pulling these straight from Cosmo?” Isco protests.

“No one can know that!” Toni says hotly.

Marce says, “But Sergio knows, right?”

Tight lipped, Sergio nods.

“I don’t want to know how you know,” Toni shakes his head.

Luka’s eyes fly to Sergio but Sergio is looking everywhere but at Luka.

“See?” Benze says. “It’s totally manageable. You two just don’t know shit about the other.”

“But the questions we got, they were really stupid,” Isco whines.

“They were!” Toni enthuses. “Half of them weren’t even real questions. Like, pick any number from one to a hundred. See if you’ve picked the same.”

Luka scribbles down his number and then glances over at Sergio and they both nod.

“Ready?” Dani is trying to moderate the event but people are already twisting their necks to see both his and Sergio’s answers even before Dani says, “Show us.”

Both numbers read 16.

Isco whines again and accepts the drink Marco hands him.

Benze stares at them, bewildered.

“Freaky,” Toni says. “Next level, someone pour them a shot.”

“That wasn’t part of the PR thing, was it?” Luka tries to protest but by that time both him and Sergio already have a shot each lined up in front of them. No one bothers to make Toni and Isco join them as well.

“Now, try to drink the same amount as the other and set the rest back. On three,” Toni instructs.

Luka doesn’t find it actually all that surprising when both him and Sergio leave just about the tiniest sip of their drink in the glass, the amount perfectly levelled.

The rest of the guys lose their minds.

“What the fuck?”

“Do it again!”

“I call bull on this!”

“Redo! Redo! Redo!”

“Redo! But this time turn your back!”

“And close your eyes!”

Luka chuckles and accepts another glass that someone hands him, raises it up in a mock salute to Sergio and turns his back, ready to repeat the experiment with his eyes closed and his back turned.

Luka’s recollection of the rest of the night is a bit hazy. He remembers playing drinking games and Marco joining forces with Marce while Toni kept commiserating with Isco. It only seemed natural for Luka to keep sitting where he was, next to Sergio. Luka remembers Sergio’s hand, warm and comforting, wrapped across his shoulders.

Then Luka remembers some more drinks. And Marce’s grinning face.

Luka’s head is still swimming when he does any abrupt movement and he would very much like to sleep it off in a normal bed, instead of waiting for everyone to board the team’s bus.

Do you want to meet up before or after we sweep the floor with you?

You won’t and I don’t, Luka immediately types back.

Ivan’s response comes just as quickly. Ha, dream on. Very funny. But seriously. When?

Luka is still thinking about a way to turn Ivan down when Marce flops into the seat next to Luka.

“Has the phone done something to you?”

Luka stops glaring at the screen and pockets the phone, leaving the message from Ivan unanswered. It can wait until they reach Barcelona. “No, it’s okay.”

“From your expression one would have thought Toni switched your settings to Japanese after last night.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Luka says, although he wouldn’t put such joke past Toni. Lucas has been a horrible influence on him. “Everything’s fine.”

Marce spares an uncomfortably long moment staring at Luka’s face. “If you’re quite sure.”

“Yeah,” Luka says and hopes it’s the end of that discussion.

“Because these days you always look like the world is out to get you.”

Maybe because it is, Luka doesn’t say and offers Marce a smile instead. “I talked to Sergio, if that’s what you’re asking. He was being stupid, I overreacted, it’s all good now,” Luka lies through his teeth, trying to assure Marce that the team’s integrity is not at stake.

“I know,” Marce says. “Sergio has mentioned something like that to me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. Because it means something must have happened to you in Croatia.”

Luka wishes he kept his mouth shut.

“Does it have something to do with Ivan?” Marce takes a guess, tilting his head so sharply to where Luka put his phone that his hair bobs around his face.

“The usual pre-match banter,” Luka dismisses. “Besides, we had fun yesterday, didn’t we?”

“We sure did,” Marce replies slowly. “You knew everything. Like, you would even know Sergio mum’s favourite drink, right?”

“Sherry,” Luka responds automatically.

“Oh, really?” Marce drawls. His eyes are too sharp again and the alarm bells start ringing in Luka’s head a little late.

Luka quickly says, “But hey, I wanted to ask you, how are your kids? It feels like I haven’t seen them in forever.”

Marce takes the bait, smile going wide and relaxed. “You’ll never believe what Enzo did the other day. Hold on, I’ve got a video of it,” he says and hands Luka his phone to hold as he pokes at the screen.

Chapter Text

“Need a hand with that?”

“I’ve got it,” Luka mutters, not looking up at Sergio. He’s struggling to loosen a very stubborn knot that is holding the straps of his backpack together with his other bag. He’s maybe three minutes away from cutting it free with a pocketknife.

“If you’re sure.”

Luka would almost suspect Sergio of being the culprit of this particular prank if it wasn’t for Isco’s tale-telling glances. And the lack of amusement in Sergio’s voice.

They’ve finally arrived to Barcelona and everyone is still puttering around the bus, grabbing their bags and chatting. Luka would already be on his merry way to his hotel room and a bed if it wasn’t for this inconvenience.

“Quite sure,” he informs Sergio, yanking at one of the straps with such force that his backpack topples over to the sidewalk.

Sergio reaches down to keep the backpack steady as Luka works on the knot.

“They’re going to die a slow, painful death,” Luka mutters. He usually manages to stay away from the never-ending prank wars and he would very much prefer it stayed that way.

“Ah, not very subtle, are they,” Sergio hums in acknowledgement, eyes darting to where Lucas is elbowing Isco’s side, both of them snickering.

“Marcelo said Toni and Isco will try to get me back after what happened after Alavés.”

“Ah, right,” is all Sergio says.

Luka finally manages to untangle the straps and he gets up from where he was squatting next to the backpack. He slings it over his shoulder, grabs his other bag and nudges Sergio’s side in thanks.

He’s about to crack a joke about hiring Sergio’s prank services for a retribution on Isco when he glances up at Sergio’s face and the words die on his lips. Sergio looks just as tired as Luka feels.

Luka should say something. Make sure everything is just as fine as he told Marce it was. But before he manages to get anything out, Sergio is already moving towards Benze and Vini.

A little later, they’re being handed the cards to their hotel rooms at the register and once Luka is holding his, he heads straight for the lifts. Marce says something, voice loud and booming and a split second later, the guys around him erupt in laughter.

Luka doesn’t hear Sergio’s laughter. He glances over, sees Sergio’s tired smile and it stops Luka in his tracks. He needs to say something to Sergio before he disappears to his hotel room. He needs to try. He has to do something about the guilt that is curled around his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Sergio?” Luka calls out, voice so quiet that for a moment Luka thinks Sergio can’t hear him. But then Sergio raises his head and his eyes flutter around until he finds Luka. Over the heads of their teammates, Sergio nods in acknowledgement.

Millions of other things Luka could say to him are running through his head as he watches Sergio make his way to him. Thanks for the lift the other day. Want to grab lunch with me? I’m sorry for making you worry. How did you know the answer to ‘what house chore do I hate doing the most’? That shirt you’re wearing looks like it was designed by a three-year-old kid. I hate lying to you.

“Hey.” Sergio bumps Luka’s shoulder and the loosened strap of the bag Luka has on his shoulder slips. Sergio catches the bag before it hits the ground, smirking. Luka snatches it back.

“Stop bullying me when I’m trying to be serious,” Luka says.

The smirk disappears from Sergio’s face and his expression grows guarded.

That is the exact opposite of what Luka wants. “This is an important game for us–”

“No shit,” Sergio breathes out.

“–and I don’t want your focus wavering, so. I want things to be fine. I hate this tension. I need you to know that I didn’t argue with my mother because of you or your…” Luka gestures to Sergio’s wrist. Don’t blame yourself.

A long silence follows before Sergio says, “Uh, okay?”

“Good,” Luka nods, already regretting bringing the issue up again. Maybe it hadn’t been on Sergio’s mind at all, maybe it was just Luka who couldn’t think about anything but the argument.

Sergio waits a moment longer, like he’s expecting Luka to say something more but Luka has nothing else to say. They’re silent for a moment, then Sergio says, “I’m headed to Boca to grab a bite, wanna come with?”

Luka shakes his head. “I’m meeting with Ivan,” he says and hopes it’ll become true once he finally texts Ivan back.

“Ah, sure. See you later, then.”

“Yeah.”

“And get some proper rest, Luka,” Sergio says, squeezing Luka’s shoulder. “You look dead on your feet.”

‘So do you,’ Luka thinks. He waits until Sergio is safely out of earshot before he dials Ivan’s number, hoping his friend will have time to meet for lunch.

The restaurant Ivan picks is close enough to the sea and so high above the ground that Luka can see all the life busking through the marina beneath them. Their table is in the corner of the building, the tall window panes offering a beautiful view. Luka watches the dark waves and has to reminding himself to take a few bites of food every now and then so Ivan doesn’t start nagging him about it again.

There must be something longing in the way he watches the white mist of the crests shatter against the breakwaters because Ivan says, “You could have said you missed the sea, we could have taken the boat out.”

“Oh. That would have been nice.” Sometimes the landlocked feeling is too much to stand.

“Next time,” Ivan says.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Luka says and hopes he won’t have to wait until the next year when they’re in Barcelona, playing Espanyol.

They don’t talk about the game. Or the league. Or the upcoming qualifiers. They talk about everything and nothing and Luka lets himself relax.

Then, inevitably, Ivan asks, “So how did everything go in Zagreb?”

Luka takes a gulp of his drink, stalling. The outcome of the court was all over the media so Luka has no doubt Ivan wants to know more than that.

“You really want to set me up on that date if my mother’s match wasn’t the one, don’t you.”

Ivan smiles. “Guilty as charged. Did it really go that badly with the girl?”

Luka doesn’t want to tell him. He’s already had a fallout with his mother about the issue and having Ivan turn on him as well would hurt. But if anyone could sympathize and understand, it would be Ivan.

“One of the girls my mother tried to set me up with eloped with another girl. Mother – she wasn’t pleased and we had a disagreement about it.”

Ivan makes a face. “I don’t see what all the is fuss about.” He shoves a bite of his meal into his mouth, chews slowly before adding, “It’s not like they can get married.”

“No, they can’t,” Luka repeats out loud to remind himself.

“Well, she obviously wasn’t the right girl for you if she chose to do… that instead.” Ivan makes another face, takes another bite. “You need someone normal.”

Luka feels like he’s on top of a cliff again, one more step and he’ll fall into the chasm. “Isn’t it? Normal, I mean.”

“You know how people get,” Ivan says and he’s right, Luka knows ‘how people get’.

Luka wonders if him and Sergio could have been soulmates had Luka not purged the bond. He wonders if Ivan would have accepted it or if they’d never speak to each other again. Luka honestly can’t tell how Ivan would have reacted and the uncertainty makes his stomach turn.

“With all the time I spend here in Spain,” he tells Ivan, “it’s sometimes easy to forget what it’s like in Croatia. It was just a harsh reminder, is all.”

Ivan looks at him as if he’d grown a second head. “They’ve corrupted you in Madrid,” he finally says and it doesn’t sound like a part of their pre-match banter.

“Guess they did,” Luka says and instead of facing Ivan’s disbelieving gaze, Luka turns to watch the sea.

“No wonder your mum got mad.”

“Yeah. No wonder.”

Chapter Text

Camp Nou is packed, noisy and hostile.

Barcelona’s flags are everywhere. The chanting is near constant, the fans can feel their opponents’ weakness. The breaking point is close.

Before they know it, Real is down two goals.

Luka keeps his focus on the pitch but he can sense it, too. He sees how drained they are. They struggle to hold the midfield. Instead of charging, they keep having to deflect near constant attacks.

Then one pass Luka sends to Case doesn’t make it and instead there’s Coutinho, fast as a speeding bullet. Coutinho has got Ivan in tow on his right, completely open.

Luka picks up his speed but he’s too far, way too far to make it.

Coutinho makes the pass to Ivan and gets ready in a position close to the net. Nacho is too slow.

The stadium cheers but then the noise suddenly changes when Ivan’s efforts are brought up short by Sergio.

It’s not a tackle per say but Ivan jumps up and goes sliding on the grass to avoid a collision. He loses the control of the ball in the process but he’s quick to hop back on his feet and shove at Sergio’s back, full force.

Enraged, Sergio swirls around to face Ivan.

Luka has almost covered the distance to them, he’s close enough to hear the end of the taunt Ivan throws at Sergio as he tries to get a raise out of Sergio.

Luka doesn’t see exactly what Sergio does to Ivan next and he doesn’t quite hear what Ivan snarls at Sergio in retaliation. Luka only catches the last two words Ivan says, ‘your bond’, and that alone is more than enough to predict the outcome. Luka knows Ivan and he knows it’s pure coincidence. Ivan doesn’t know anything about the current soulmark issues Sergio has been trying to deal with for the past few days and weeks. It’s definitely a sore spot and when Ivan aims his barbed insult just there, Sergio loses it.

Luka is not surprised by the fight, he’s not surprised by how quickly it escalates into a full-blown brawl of the two teams and he sure as hell isn’t surprised by the red card Sergio gets.

Sergio storms off the pitch, much to the rejoice of the culés in the stands.

Luka feels guilty. Again. These days, it’s something he feels a lot. It is something that keeps him up at night, gnawing at his bones. But the fear of what would happen if he came clear is worse. So Luka watches their strategy fall apart and can’t help feeling guilty about it.

It takes a few more minutes for both teams to calm down enough so that the El Clásico match can resume.

Even without their golden Messi, Barcelona proves to be lethal. Barcelona wins 5–1 and Luka, Luka can’t help but feel guilty about it.

Ivan shakes his hand after the match, gives him a warm hug and doesn’t notice the way Luka holds himself stiff the whole time.

There is a surprising amount of chatter and laughter on the bus back to Madrid.

Luka grabs an empty seat next to Gareth and puts on his headphones to deter Gareth from striking up a conversation with him. Gareth doesn’t look like he wants to talk anyway, he plays some game on his phone for a while and then he leans his head back and closes his eyes, hand curled around his phone. Luka doesn’t think Gareth is really asleep.

Around them, the guys are talking over each other, all smiles and jokes.

Win some, lose some. Everyone seems to have already put the miserable match behind them but Luka can’t bounce back like that. They should have won this one. They should have fought. They should have taken the chance to defeat Barcelona when they were weakened. Opportunities like that are rare and Luka is acutely aware that he will only have so many chances to prove himself, to help Madrid win against Barcelona.

Across the bus aisle, he watches Marco who is happily twisting and turning around in his seat to chat with everybody in his vicinity. Marco’s face is animated as he talks, eyes sparkling, eyebrows raising, mouth twitching in a grin. Marco isn’t yet aware of the ticking clock.

Luka watches Marco talk and talk and talk, and he envies him the vitality. Even though Marco was subbed in for Gareth late into the second half and he didn’t help to change the score any, Marco has already moved forward. He’s ready to take on the next challenge. They’re playing Melilla in three days. Marco is ready.

Luka looks away and his haze catches on Gareth’s hand, still loosely wrapped around the darkened screen of his phone. Gareth’s long-sleeved shirt is pulled down past his cover but Luka remembers from Tottenham what’s beneath it. It was the first time Luka saw a faded-away soulmark and the sight wasn’t one he would ever forget.

Sometimes there are chances you waste, like tonight’s game, sometimes there aren’t chances at all, like with Gareth’s soulmate, and sometimes you take away your own chances.

Gareth would have given anything for the chance to have met his soulmate before her passing while Luka willingly abandoned his soulmate, not even pausing to think about what would happen to the other side of the bond once Luka severed the ties. He thought – he isn’t sure what he was thinking back then. That there wasn’t any bond in the first place.

When Luka got his soulmark and it wasn’t a girl’s name, he was desolate. He just wanted it all to quietly go away so that he could keep playing football. The clinic made that possible, ridding him of the mark, making it possible to appear normal. Before Luka came to Spain, he never realized the name he no longer had on his wrist could really have been his soulmate’s; someone he could have bonded with and been with. Learning about the duality principle bias, that came later. Thinking about Sergio, that followed even later and by then it was too late to change anything.

Gareth suddenly opens his eyes, catches Luka staring at his wrist. He makes a face. Luka makes a face back. They don’t say anything, they both know the bitter taste of not having any options left.

Gareth had no say in it and neither did Sergio. Luka made his choice and now the resulting guilt has made itself comfortable as it settled in his chest, ever-present and heavy.

Luka keeps his headphones on all the way back home, not interested in talking to anyone, least of all Sergio. There’s no sense in talking to Sergio about the game, not right now. Sergio needs some time to cool off first before he’s ready to hear any reason.

Luka heads back home alone.

His house is quiet. Luka hears the accusation ricochet of the walls.

He makes himself some herbal tea that Gareth has suggested to help him fall asleep. It tastes like shit, no matter how much honey Luka adds.

He forces a few sips down his throat but it doesn’t help any and Luka spends another sleepless night watching the ceiling and contemplating his life choices.

Chapter Text

Sergio seeks him out on his own volition the next day, waiting in the hallway after the evening training is over, waiting till Luka is done with his physio. Luka leads them to his car, drives to his house and waves Sergio into the living room where he lets Sergio pick some film for them to watch.

Luka doesn’t want to talk about what happened during that El Clásico match but Sergio seems determined to explain himself to Luka.

“Rakitić,” Sergio starts and of course that would be the first thing he said about the incident.

Luka nods; he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to hear it.

“He just said something about me and my soulbond and I just–” Sergio makes a broad gesture with his hand.

“… saw red?” Luka suggests lightly, though his throat is choked tight with guilt.

Sergio chuckles, running a hand over his face. “Yeah. Just like that. He said that I should finally find my match so I’d settle down and stop trying to kill everyone around me.”

Luka knows that any remark about Sergio’s soulmate would cut deep. “I’m sorry he was being an ass,” Luka says. “I don’t think he meant it like that anyway. Most likely he was just talking shit like always.”

“You didn’t tell him? About–?”

Luka quickly shakes his head. “Not a living soul.”

“Oh. I thought–”

“I didn’t,” Luka stresses.

Sergio clears his throat. “He had it coming, though.”

Luka wants to roll his eyes. “You didn’t have to punch him, Sergio.”

“He was being an ass,” Sergio explains. “What? He was, you said it yourself!”

Luka points an accusatory finger at Sergio. “I thought you came here to apologise?”

Sergio feigns innocence, “I thought I came here to watch a film?”

“You sure did,” Luka says, propping his legs on the coffee table and wiggling to find a comfortable position on the couch. “Watch a film and eat my food.”

Sergio perks up. “There’s food?”

Luka nods. “In about forty minutes. But next time, we’re meeting at yours.”

“We are? I mean, of course we are. Meeting at mine. Uf. Why exactly are we meeting at mine?”

“Because I like it better there,” Luka says and he’s teasing Sergio but he doesn’t realize how truthful the sentence is until he says it.

“You do?”

“Yeah, because at yours, it will be your turn to provide food,” Luka says, though that’s a blatant lie and they have no such rule in praxis. “I don’t want your mess in my kitchen.”

“You know what? I think I’m not here for your food. Or the film. In fact, I’m not here at all, so it will still be your turn to provide food when you show up at mine next,” Sergio decides.

“You sure talk a lot for someone who is not here to apologise,” Luka snipes.

Sergio makes an empty threat, “Puh. I’m not saying anything to you ever again.”

Luka doesn’t bother responding to that.

“Besides,” Sergio says as he swipes the TV remote, “I have nothing to apologise for.”

Luka shoots him a quick glance but Sergio is studiously going over the screen brightness settings. “I guess you don’t,” Luka says and watches Sergio’s shoulders relax against the cushions, “it’s not like it was my jaw that you broke.”

“I didn’t break anyone’s jaw!” Sergio says hotly and he sounds so indignant that Luka can’t help but laugh at that.

The film is nothing interesting. Luka didn’t even catch the title but it’s turning out to be another mind-numbing slasher.

Luka is running a mocking commentary basically nonstop and Sergio seems happy to bicker back. Until Luka takes a dig at the lodging choices of the soon-to-be-the-fifth-victim and Sergio remains quiet. The silence stretches and Luka glances over and realizes that Sergio fell asleep sometime during the last scene and this one.

Luka decides to turn the volume down a notch so the inevitable screams won’t rouse Sergio from his sleep. The remote is on Sergio’s side of the couch and Luka digs one hand to the backside of the couch for balance as he leans into Sergio to grab the remote. As he’s reaching over, Sergio shifts, accommodating for Luka’s weight. Luka waits a moment but Sergio doesn’t wake. Sergio is soft and cuddly and Luka is pretty content to tuck himself into the space Sergio has created for him and stay where he is, leaning into Sergio’s warmth.

He couldn’t care less about the film and when Sergio finally wakes up several hours later, Luka has no idea how to answer any of the questions Sergio has about the plot.

“Guess we’ll just have to watch it again when we’re not so sleepy,” Sergio mumbles around a yawn. “Man, I’m beat. What time is it?”

It’s almost three and Luka suggests he’ll get the spare blankets and pillows ready so Sergio could sleep over.

“No sense in driving around the town just to crash in your bed when you’ll be here again first thing in the morning to pick me up,” Luka reasons. He only gets the first few words out and Sergio is already nodding and moving up from the couch.

“Sure thing,” he says around another yawn and Luka is immensely pleased that tonight, the house won’t have the stifling echo of emptiness in it.

They win against Melilla.

They win the next game, too. And the next one and the next one and everyone is suddenly talking about their winning streak, insisting that the team still has a chance to win trophies.

Sure, the season is far from over but Luka hates the additional pressure. As if every game they play could be the one that decides their fate. Their victories aren’t clear-cut, goals bouncing in on lucky shots, their opponents making crucial mistakes and leaving their defence open, Real scraping narrow wins. It’s not how Luka imagines a winning streak but he smiles along with everyone else and he hopes.

They just got back from Galicia, secured a 4-2 win and the NT call-ups are starting next week.

The NT qualifiers are squeezed into one week which doesn’t really give them much time but Luka is glad for the chance to meet with everyone again, he is looking forward to leading his team once again. Croatia is hosting Spain in Zagreb on Thursday and then they’re flying out to London to play England next.

“You look happy,” Nadya says when Luka stops by her shop one day. Everything smells of lyutenitsa and Luka is absolutely certain that it couldn’t have come from any store-bought jar. “But you still haven’t put on any weight.”

Luka reaches for his dish across the counter top, gives her a genuine smile. “Life’s been busy,” he offers as an explanation to both of her statements.

Nadya clucks her tongue. “You should come here more often.”

“I can try,” Luka says, though he missed her and the atmosphere of her little restaurant more than her cooking.

“There’ll be mekitsi next week,” she offers.

“Then I’ll be there next week,” Luka replies, wondering if he can swing a visit before they’re off to Eibar with Real and vowing to himself not to let anything slip in front of his nutritionist. The poor guy would have kittens if he were to ever find out about the amount of dripping fried oil that’s bound to go with that particular breakfast.

Chapter Text

Luka makes it back to Zagreb to meet everyone on the national team. There are some familiar faces but there are also a few newcomers and Luka is glad for the chance to work with them. He’s been asked to captain the team again, although some people wanted him to step down after Croatia lost to France in the World Cup final. After the court hearings, there were also voices calling for his immediate retirement from the national team, regardless of the court’s verdict.

With all the attention he’s been getting from both the national team and the media, he’s glad for the day off they have before they’re playing Spain. Luka turns down Dejan’s offer to join them with Šime and Ivan for their downtime and he heads back to his Zagreb house to enjoy some peace and quiet.

The moment the door closes behind him, Luka is surrounded by silence. Stifling, maddening silence that refuses to go away even when Luka switches on the TV. It’s the kind of silence that means no one else is there with him and that’s not something that can be masked by the sounds from a TV show. Luka doesn’t spend much time in this house and all the sounds the house makes are unfamiliar, not comforting in the slightest.

He can’t remember the last time he was in Zagreb without stopping by at his mother’s place.

Luka idly switches between the channels, wondering what it would take for him to fall asleep tonight, when his phone pings with in an incoming message from Sergio.

You got a busy schedule tonight?

Luka waits a heartbeat to answer, No. We got a day off. You?

Same. Wanna meet up?

Come over to my place, Luka sends, relief flooding his veins.

Sergio’s reply reads, See you in ten. In quick succession, Sergio adds, Make that fifteen. and Uh. Twenty? Thirty tops!

With a smile, Luka texts him the address because Sergio has been to Luka’s house in Zagreb maybe twice in his life and definitely not once in the past three years.

Sergio, though, promptly texts back, I’m not an idiot!

Debatable, Luka teases.

No comment. But I’m not forgetful!

Luka would have his doubts but it’s not even half an hour later when another text comes. We’re here, it reads, followed by a picture of a wooden Trojan horse.

Luka’s still chuckling when he opens the door.

“Oh my god, what is this? Luka, go get changed. Ugh, my eyes!” Isco’s voice is saying before Luka even fully opens the door.

Luka glances down at his chequered team shirt. “I think I have the flag somewhere, too, to go with it.”

“Ugh,” Isco repeats with emphasis, pushing past Luka through the door. He’s followed by Dani, Nacho, Álvaro, Lucas, Marco and finally, Sergio.

Luka follows the gang inside, bewildered. “Come on in,” he says belatedly. “I didn’t expect you.”

Isco cackles, “Nobody expects the Spanish inqui–”

Álvaro doesn’t let him finish the sentence, pressing a palm against Isco’s mouth. “Don’t listen to him. I’m sorry on his behalf,” he tells Luka as he shoves Isco past him to make room in the doorway for the others.

“I told Marco you’re being all mopey and he offered to come with me and then the rest of them just decided to join,” Sergio offers as an explanation, although Luka didn’t ask.

“Join forces,” Lucas hollers from the living room and Luka nudges Sergio further into the house.

Luka goes into the kitchen to fetch more glasses and more of everything.

Dani materializes in the doorway, watching Luka silently for a moment before proclaiming, “You, my friend, are a total pushover.” Then he helps himself to a jug of turmeric tonic from Luka’s fridge.

“Am not,” Luka protests, adding chopped peanuts to a bowl of fried anchovies.

Dani pours himself a glass, puts the jug back and gestures at the snack Luka is making. “Do you even like peanuts in that?”

“I don’t mind either way. And Marco likes them,” Luka says.

“Pushover,” Dani repeats.

“No one asked you,” Luka says. “In fact, no one invited you.”

Dani blinks. “Sergio did.”

Luka can’t argue with that. “Get the drinks for everyone,” he says instead.

When Luka joins the gang in the living room, there’s laughter all around and at least three separate conversations going on at the same time.

Luka is suddenly hit by how much the house finally feels like home. All it took was for the place to be taken over by the Spaniards.

Isco is busy keeping Nacho in a chokehold as he forces Nacho off the couch and Lucas is setting Luka’s TV language preferences to Spanish. Sergio selects a bottle of red wine from the wine rack and holds it up for Luka’s approval. Luka nods and a moment later, Sergio is handing him a glass.

“Here, don’t be a spoilsport,” Sergio says. “I have a bet going on with Dani. He says that you won’t touch any alcohol tonight before tomorrow’s game but my money’s on you. Cheers.”

Luka takes the glass, points a finger at Dani. “We’ll take you down tomorrow on the pitch even if I’m still hungover,” he says with more conviction than he feels.

Sergio laughs, slinging one arm around Luka’s frame, dragging Luka close. “No one is trying to make the opponent’s captain have a hangover tomorrow,” he assures.

“Speak for yourself,” Luka deadpans, clinking his glass against Sergio’s. The warmth that spreads to him from where he is pressed against Sergio’s side is instant and Luka finally stops hearing the silence of the house. He has no plans of getting drunk but having a bit to help the warmth last won’t hurt.

Croatia wins against Spain. Luka and his team are overjoyed, their mood still bright as they board the plane to take them to face their next opponent.

Sergio sends him a text, congratulating Luka on their victory. Luka can hear Sergio’s weariness through the phone and he types something back, well-aware of the insignificance of the reply.

Luka is rooming with Ivan, who seems content to talk Luka’s ear off. Luka tries his best to pay attention to every suggestion for the upcoming match and to every observant remark about the match they’ve just played because more often than not, Ivan has a point. But Luka feels tired and soon he finds himself humming along whatever Ivan says, wishing he could go to sleep already.

Luka’s just pondering how to nicely ask Ivan to get the lights and go to sleep when he gets another text.

Is this yours? If so, I’m keeping it.

Luka blinks down at the screen and recognizes his back scratcher in the picture.

Be my guest, Luka shoots back, grinning.

Looted!

“That was Ramos, wasn’t it,” Ivan says, interrupting himself from discussing probable line-up changes.

Luka shrugs, sets his phone back on the nightstand and links his hands together above his stomach. “Yeah.”

“You’re always so different around him,” Ivan says, thoughtful.

“Different?”

“Well, you know, normally you’re the usual serious Luka, going around, doing your voice of reason kinda thing,” Ivan explains.

Luka snorts, dubious. Ivan knows him better than that.

“But the moment Ramos is goofing around, trying to put a smile on that worried face, it works. You fall for it.”

Luka objects, “I’m not falling for anything.” Anyone.

“No one’s buying your serious persona act,” Ivan tells him.

“What?”

“I can see right though you, Luka. You’re all serious when you’re in public but the moment no one is watching you, the moment no one is judging you, you let your guard down. You let Ramos’ bullshit affect you way too easily, is what I’m saying. I saw that smile just now.”

“Oh, yeah. I think it might be catching,” Luka snaps. “You better watch yourself for the symptoms, I’ve heard they include being in a good mood.”

Ivan says, “I didn’t say it was bad or anything. Just that you let him get under your skin and manipulate you where he wants you.”

“Sergio’s nothing like that.” Luka turns on the bed, his back to Ivan, and ignores any further attempts at conversation.

Eventually, Ivan switches on the TV and Luka soon recognizes the sounds of the opening scene of Occupation in 26 Pictures. He’d normally watch the film with Ivan but with his back turned, Luka can’t see the screen. He doesn’t want to risk turning around only for Ivan to continue with their previous conversation so Luka keeps his eyes closed until sleep finally claims him.

Chapter Text

Croatia secures another victory and everybody is ecstatic.

They go out for drinks; someone knows someone who owns a place where they can celebrate without worrying about the press. The music is loud, there are plenty of drinks and there’s nothing to complain about. There’s also pizza but sadly, no anchovies.

Luka’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Sergio is calling him. Luka wavers before picking up.

“Lukita! Hey, how are you?”

“Hey,” Luka returns, warily. They’ve texted but haven’t spoken since Croatia defeated Spain. Luka isn’t sure how Sergio feels now that Croatia added yet another victory to their stats and Spain went on to lose two more games.

“I was just calling you to…” Sergio pauses, then amusedly asks, “Is that the Raccoon?”

“What?”

“Rakitić,” Sergio explains. “Little, annoying, never stops yapping.”

“You call him a raccoon?”

“Yeah, he’s the Raccoon, all right. Never shuts up but people are still charmed by all that yapping. Rocket, Raketa, whatever. He’s a raccoon. A dark striped space bandit,” Sergio vents and Luka wonders if maybe Sergio has been drinking.

“I see,” Luka says.

“Anyway, I thought I recognized that awful singing,” Sergio goes on. “I could recognize it anywhere. In fact, I did recognize it from miles and miles and miles away, just try telling me otherwise. It’s him isn’t it?”

Luka casts a look over his shoulder and sure enough, there Ivan is, standing on the table with his left hand around a beer bottle and his right hand wrapped around Šime’s shoulders as they both screech the words of Moja domovina.

“That would be him. He’s good isn’t he?” Luka says sweetly.

Another pause. “Ah.”

“It reminds me of your singing,” Luka says in the same sweet tone and proceeds to hum the next few lines into the phone in tune with the screeching duo.

“Hey! I resent that!”

Luka stops singing and bites on his lip to keep in check the huge grin threatening to spill across his face.

“Also, did you just call me ‘my sun’?” Sergio asks.

Luka splutters. “It’s the song! I mean the lyrics. My sun, my–” He breaks off, not sure if he should translate the next word as sky or heaven.

“Uh-huh,” Sergio chuckles. “What are you celebrating anyway?”

‘You haven’t seen it?’ Luka almost asks but he catches himself in time and he’s fairly sure he manages to keep the disappointment that shows on his face from seeping into his voice when he tells Sergio, “We won against–”

“I know, sheesh, who do you take me for? What I meant is what exactly are you celebrating? That first goal was pure luck and the other goal that decided the game was their own goal.”

At first Luka feels the warmth spread through his chest – Sergio didn’t forget and he even watched the game – but then what Sergio actually said registers. “Those are pointless details!” Luka exclaims, gesturing wildly with his hand, though Sergio can’t see it. “It was a well-deserved win!”

“Oh, so if it’s Croatia then it’s pointless details, if it’s Real then you don’t stop brooding for days. I see how it is.”

“No, no, Sergio. No. It’s not like that. I care about us, about Real, and I can’t be content unless it is a perfect game.”

“Didn’t you say just the other week that there’s no such thing as a perfect game? That there is always room for an improvement?”

“How else would I keep your ego from inflating even further?”

“Shut it, what I’m hearing is you saying you think that sheer stroke of luck today was a perfect game.”

“I didn’t say anything like that,” Luka protests. “It’s just different, it’s a national team. We won’t see each other for months so we have to savour the victory.”

“Puh,” Sergio huffs into the phone. “I wish you would savour our victories, too.”

“Oh.” Luka worries his lip some more before he says, “I can try.”

“Do I hear you saying yes to coming to the party at–”

“No! I said no such thing,” Luka quickly protests but he’s smiling into the phone and he knows Sergio will hear the laughter in his voice. Somehow, Sergio always manages to make him smile, no matter now upset he has been with him before.

He lets Sergio poke fun at him for a while longer before he asks, “Did you call me just to say we didn’t deserve to win today?”

Sergio scoffs and parrots back, “No, it’s not like that.”

“So what is it like?”

“I wanted to ask if you want to do lunch or something tomorrow. What time are you flying back home?”

“Are you inviting me to yours?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I see what it is like,” Luka drawls.

Sergio laughs. “You’re an idiot, Lukita.”

“So, around five sounds good?”

“All right, that sounds great.”

Luka’s flight ends up being delayed and by the time Luka finally makes it to his house, he doesn’t have the energy to go anywhere else. He grabs a shower to rinse off the airplane stench. He changes into loose sweats and a shirt that has been through the wash one time too many. He lets out a groan as he melts into his couch and texts Sergio to let him know he won’t be coming over to Sergio’s.
Sorry, I’m beat. Can’t make it tonight. Raincheck?

Have you already eaten? I can pick up something for dinner and stop by your place tonight.

Ok. Sounds good, Luka sends and rubs his temples to ease off the slight throbbing in his temples. He’s still feeling the after-effects of their national team’s joyous celebrations and he would kill for a good greasy burek with extra cheese.

Sometime later, Sergio shows up with falafel wraps, which is almost as good.

“I could kiss you right now,” Luka says as he lets Sergio inside and relieves him of the falafel wraps.

“Well, why don’t you?” Sergio laughs.

Luka’s eyes fly up to meet Sergio’s grinning face but Sergio is just tapping the side of his cheek with his forefinger so Luka rolls his eyes and obligingly leans up on his tiptoes to give Sergio’s cheek a quick peck. “Thanks for the food,” he says.

“I had a feeling your head might hurt,” Sergio says. “I can swear by those wraps. Best hangover cure this town has to offer.”

Luka doesn’t try to argue with that but he makes a mental note to take Sergio to Nadya’s shop to taste her shkembe chorba after Real’s next night-long celebration.

“What are we watching tonight?” Luka asks around a mouthful.

“Man, I’m glad you asked! It’s called Ibiza.”

Luka takes in the amused glint in Sergio’s eyes and groans. “Please tell me it’s not a romcom.”

“It’s not a romcom,” Sergio parrots.

“Somehow, that doesn’t reassure me. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, it’s bad and you’ll suffer, you poor thing.”

Luka reaches for a blanket, makes a cocoon around himself as he settles. “I knew it was a romcom.”

“Luka, you wound me. If you don’t trust me, you’ll have to watch it to find out.”

“You’re fine,” Luka says just as the film begins, “It’s the Netflix originals I don’t trust.”

“Ah, I’m fine,” Sergio echoes, cackling, and gets a cushion to his face for that.

Chapter Text

The end credits of the film roll and Sergio turns to Luka. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Well, it was a romcom,” Luka points out.

“Ah, Luka, c’mon, I know you enjoyed it all right.”

“Hah. What the hell was it even supposed to be about? Was it a revenge for me talking shit about that horror film we watched last time?” Luka gets up, switches on the lights, turns off the TV and goes to shut the blinds now that the sun has set.

“Ugh, my eyes!” Sergio groans, throwing an arm over his face. Luka obligingly dims the lights. “If I wanted revenge, we’d be watching The Matrix Revolutions,” Sergio grunts.

“Are you serious?”

Sergio shrugs, unapologetic. “Anyway, you liked the film. There was Ibiza, what’s not to like about Ibiza?”

“Was it even filmed in Ibiza?” Luka fires and when Sergio frowns instead of providing a quick confirmation, Luka pushes, “Did you recognize any of those places?”

“Uh.”

“Because I did,” Luka says, grinning triumphantly because he’s been sitting on that the whole film. “That ‘Barcelona’ sure looked a lot like Split, and I’d be damned if I didn’t recognize our Croatian islands. Also, that beach, that was Zrće for sure.”

“No way! For real?”

“For real,” Luka insists.

“Man, you should have told me right away, I would have paid more attention.”

“You dared me not to say anything about the film while we watched,” Luka reminds him.

“Point,” Sergio admits. “I didn’t think you’d last more than five minutes.”

“Hah!” It was the ‘you’re gonna lose’ glint in Sergio’s eyes that made Luka hold his tongue.

Sergio shakes his head. “I really thought it was Ibiza.”

“Well, Zrće gets called Croatian Ibiza a lot, so there’s that.”

“Recognized your Croatian islands, eh?” Sergio looks at him, eyes dark and searching, as if he could tell Luka’s still feeling all wrong-footed about Croatia. About missing Croatia – the Croatia he lost when his mother said, Get out of my house. It wasn’t just the house he left, it was the home he had to leave behind, too.

Sergio’s eyes are still boring into him and Luka quickly says, “It was a horrible film. And besides, those dance moves? What the hell, who even moves like that?”

Sergio laughs at that, getting up from the couch. “You do.” He searches for the right track and a moment later, the same silly dance song from the film is pouring from Luka’s loudspeakers in the living room.

Luka makes an indignant sound as Sergio prances over, grabbing Luka’s arms, forcing them up to mimic the zombie-like moves they’ve seen in the film.

“C’mon, dance with me,” Sergio enthuses, laughing as he waves Luka’s hands to the rhythm.

“You’re insane,” Luka says and in that moment, he hears his mother’s voice in his head again. Unless you come to your senses. He suppresses the memory, annoyed at himself. He stops trying to resist Sergio and his zombie-like dancing.

Sergio lets out a delighted cheer and keeps waving Luka’s hands around. Luka entertains him for a while, then he breaks from Sergio’s hold.

“You bendy little snake,” Sergio curses as Luka twists out of reach but he stops complaining once he realizes Luka is content to keep on dancing, swaying to the rhythm in a more sensible way, nothing like the awful dance moves they’ve seen earlier in the film. Sergio tries to sing along with the song but he doesn’t quite know the lyrics and after a while Luka is tearing up, not sure if he’s laughing with Sergio or at him.

Then the song dies down and Luka stills once it ends.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Sergio exclaims and he’s back in Luka’s space, grabbing his hands. Sergio fills the silence in between songs by singing, “The zombies were having fun.”

The next song comes on and it’s a slow one so Luka moves to skip the track or maybe turn the music off completely because it’s near midnight and between the NT games and the delayed plane, Luka didn’t get much sleep and he thinks Sergio didn’t either.

Before he can make it, Sergio stops him, still laughing. He wraps his hand around Luka’s waist, pulling him close, placing one hand on Luka’s hip as the other curls into the hair at the nape of Luka’s neck.

Luka sucks in a breath but swings obligingly into the slow-paced music. Sergio’s laughter ends with a pleased chuckle.

“See, you can loosen up a bit,” Sergio says as he bends Luka backward, lower and lower to the floor when he realizes there’s no resistance. Sergio’s arm is firmly holding Luka across his back as they test the stretch.

“Let me go,” Luka demands but he’s laughing and Sergio’s not listening to him.

Sergio’s face contorts; he’s obviously torn between saying something like ‘I’ll never let you go’ and pointing out that ‘If I let you go you’ll break your neck’.

“Never mind,” Luka says, arms quickly snaking around Sergio in case Sergio decides to let go anyway.

Sergio pulls them upright and his eyes are too close, his gaze is too intense.

Luka jerks his gaze back to the TV screen but it’s switched off and he can’t pretend to be enthralled by a black screen.

With the tips of his finger, Sergio takes Luka’s jaw and forces Luka to turn his head back to Sergio.

“Luka,” Sergio says in a low rumble. They are inches apart, Luka can feel Sergio’s breath against his lips.

Sergio takes hold of Luka’s hand, curls his fingers around his wrist, just above Luka’s cover. “I wish,” Sergio starts, tracing idle patterns into the underside of Luka’s wrist with his thumb and Luka shivers, the touch is so close to his cover. When Luka dares to look up, Sergio’s eyes are transfixed on the cover.

“Just until you find her, Luka.”

Luka’s heart is skyrocketing in his chest. No. Oh god, no. They’ve stopped dancing, Luka doesn’t remember when.

“Once you find her you’ll know but until then,” Sergio presses their bodies flush together but he isn’t looking at Luka. Instead, he bends his head low, rests his chin on Luka’s shoulder, hand squeezing Luka’s waist. “Please?”

Luka’s fingers clutch at the fabric of Sergio’s shirt. “Sergio–”

Sergio’s lips brush against the side of Luka’s neck. “Please.”

Luka shakes himself from the weird spell of the moment. “I think you should go.”

“No, Luka, I–”

“Get out!” Luka snaps, then draws a breath, feeling the composure starting to slip from his fingers. He shoves Sergio away, palms flat against Sergio’s chest.

“Luka,” Sergio tries again and he sounds wrecked.

Luka draws another breath and says in a lower tone, “See you tomorrow, Sergio.”

“Luka–”

“Not now, Sergio. Goodnight.” Luka jabs the button to skip the track, like he should have done in the first place, and the stupid slow song changes into something fast paced.

“I don’t–” Sergio hesitates and Luka shoves him to the door.

“Just go away!” Luka turns the music up. The sound blasting from the speakers makes the floor vibrate near the subwoofer.

“The keys!” Sergio shouts over the music.

Luka goes back to the table and grabs Sergio’s keys, tosses them across the room and turns away before he can see if Sergio manages to snatch them from the air.

Luka waits till Sergio gets to his car, then cuts the deafening music. He rubs at his chest, trying to ease off the painful gnaw of guilt.

The engine roars, the tires squeal and then Sergio is gone, making it out of the driveway at breakneck speed.

“Fuck,” Luka says, slamming his fist into a windowsill to relieve his frustration.

Everything is quiet after that.

Chapter Text

Luka’s phone is ringing insistently.

It’s only been a couple of hours since he made Sergio leave and if anything, the pain Luka is feeling has only gotten worse.

Luka is lying flat on the couch where they’d been watching that stupid film just several hours earlier because he can’t make himself move. He knows sleep won’t be coming tonight. He’s been staring up at the ceiling for way too long, trying to will his body into getting up so he could get his night time routine done with and go to bed. His mind is not cooperating though, caught in a dark loop of thoughts.

Luka doesn’t feel like talking to anybody but the phone rings and rings and rings.

Finally, Luka gives in and picks up the phone. The moment the call gets though, Marce urgently breathes out, “Have you heard?”

“Have I heard what?”

“Have you heard about Sergio?”

There is something in Marce’s voice that makes Luka’s stomach drop. He bolts up on the couch, gripping his phone case tighter. The first thing he asks is, “Is he okay?”

“So you haven’t heard?”

“No! Is he okay? What–”

“He’ll be okay,” Marce says.

It’s not reassuring in the slightest because why wouldn’t Sergio be okay? Even though Luka and Sergio didn’t part on the best of terms last night, there’s no reason for Marce to be calling at ass o’clock at night about it.

Marce goes on, “They’re keeping him in overnight, then he’s on a bedrest. He’ll be okay, really.”

“Will he? Are you sure?” Luka asks, dumbfounded, thoughts slow to process the news.

“Yes, Luka.”

“How do you know?” Luka says, barely managing to keep himself from completing the sentence with when I don’t.

“I’m included among the people in his contact list and I live close to the hospital,” Marce says but his tone is a little high. They both know that Marce being close is not the real reason he was called.

Luka speeds though his house, throws on his jacket, reaches for his car keys. “Which hospital?” He can’t remember which one is the closest from Marce’s.

Marce tells him, then says, all slow and careful, “But Luka–”

“They won’t let me see him now,” Luka suddenly realizes, voicing his thoughts out loud. “Fuck.” He stops in his tracks, puts the keys back, shrugs off his jacket.

Marce makes an agreeable noise, then says, “Look, they contacted me and I’m calling you because I think you should know.”

Luka has too many questions to ask but for now he settles on, “Know what exactly? What happened to him?”

Marce chuckles, darkly. “What he did, is that he kissed a wall and scraped off some paint from his car,” he says and before Luka can ask, Marce informs him, “he didn’t break anything. And he swears he wasn’t driving drunk but you know how he is.”

Luka’s grip on the phone tightens to the point where his knuckles are going white. “Marcelo,” he growls. Marce doesn’t know anything.

Marce pays him no mind. “The phlebotomist said the blood results will take a while to come back,” Marce says and he sounds like he’s quoting someone. “We won’t know much more about the accident until tomorrow. Well, later today.”

“A car crash?” Luka pieces together as an image of Sergio’s car peeling out of Luka’s driveway flashes through his mind.

“Nothing too bad,” Marce insists. “But he’s caused an outrage, of course. People are already calling for his blood and it’s not even morning yet.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s all over the social media, Luka,” Marce says with a sigh. “Someone’s got a footage or a video, I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter if he was drunk or not at this point. The fans are disappointed, they’re demanding he steps down as a captain. The reporters are going to have a field day.”

A jab of pain goes straight through Luka’s chest, sharper than before. “And the team?”

“Yeah, that’s the other thing I wanted you to know about. You’ll be there for the morning training, right?”

“Right,” Luka dutifully confirms.

“The team’s officials called in an unscheduled meeting,” Marce says. The only way Marce would know about such thing is if he was asked to join. He was the vice-captain, after all.

“So, the team…?” Luka lets the question hang between them.

“I don’t know. Not everyone has heard about the crash yet. I’m surprised Sergio didn’t let you know. I don’t know, Luka. I don’t want to say anything but maybe this is the last drop, you know? I wouldn’t hold it against them if they decided to make him hand it over to someone who doesn’t make the headlines every other week. Everyone says that… well, never mind.”

That Marce would be a better role model, Luka fills in bitterly.

“How long till he gets discharged?” Then, quickly, Luka adds, “From the hospital.”

“I’m not sure. Couple more hours till it’s really morning? Sergio wasn’t keen on staying there. He’ll be home the first chance he gets. Why don’t you call him?” Marce asks and Luka thinks it’s a good question. Why wouldn’t he call Sergio?

“I think,” Luka starts, releasing a slow breath, “I think I’ll do that right now. Thanks for the call, Marcelo.”

“Of course. Sorry if I woke you up.”

Luka glances at the clock and winces at the time but Sergio is unlikely to be asleep, possible concussion or not. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway. Thanks, Marcelo.”

Luka hangs up on Marce and dials Sergio’s number.

He doesn’t have to wait long. “Luka!”

It’s a relief, to hear Sergio’s voice again, to know he’s okay.

“Luka, listen, I swear I wasn’t drunk!” Sergio says hurriedly, like he’s afraid Luka might hang up on him before he gets the chance to make Luka believe his side of the story. “It was just a freak accident, I swear. There is a report if you don’t believe me, they tested my breath right on the scene. Clearly says I didn’t touch a drop!”

“I believe you,” Luka whispers, barely loud enough for the phone to pick it up. They weren’t drinking that night and Sergio would hardly have time to get anywhere else before the accident happened.

Sergio pauses. “You… you do?”

“Yeah, of course.” Luka pinches the bridge of his nose. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. So is the car. The bumper got a new dent and the right side skirt has a scratch or two. But I’m okay, nothing really happened. It’s just my name that’s blowing this out of proportions.”

Luka squeezes his eyes shut. He didn’t cause Sergio’s accident but he still feels responsible. He has to talk to Sergio. In person. Tell him about the mark, explain his reasons. He draws in a measured breath before he asks, “Say, when do they let you go home?”

“Later today. There’s more tests in the morning and then I can go,” Sergio says around a yawn. He must be extremely tired and shaken up after everything that’s happened tonight.

“Um. Okay. That’s good. Try to get some sleep, Sergio.” Luka wishes he could be there to offer Sergio some comfort but he is the one who told Sergio to get out. He is the cause of the whole situation. If Sergio wanted him there, Marcelo wouldn’t have been contacted first.

Before Luka can end the call, Sergio says in one breath, “Will you stop by?”

“I might,” Luka responds after a moment. “I have to go to the team meeting first, though.”

“Ah. There’s a team’s meeting,” Sergio says it like it’s a death sentence. For all they know, it might be. “All right then.” Luka listens as Sergio takes in a few more breaths. “Luka?”

“Yes?”

Even though Luka waits him out, Sergio doesn’t say anything other than, “Goodbye.”

“Goodnight,” Luka says and holds on until Sergio rings off.

Chapter Text

Try the room next to A046,
Marce texts him the next day. After the morning training, Luka makes his excuses to Toni and Lucas and he sneaks into the building where the meeting is taking place.

He’s quiet as a mouse, barely breathing as he strains his ears. Through the vents, Luka can make out Benze and Marce’s voices. Varane must be there too but he’s not saying anything.

Marce’s voice is the easiest to recognise. “I know you wouldn’t want to make any rash decisions while it’s–”

“He got a red for that fight with Rakitić, he got three yellows in the last three matches and now this? He’s gotten injured and it could have been much worse. He definitely hasn’t managed to pull his head out of his ass, don’t you think we haven’t noticed,” the spokesman says, interrupting Marce.

“He’s unstable,” agrees Solari.

Sergio isn’t even here to defend himself.

More voices talk, too fast or too unfamiliar for Luka to recognize.

“He’s a disaster on the pitch and his personal life is a mess.”

“He’s hit a rough patch but give it a week or two and he’ll bounce back.”

“If it turns out he went clubbing and then was drunk driving, it’ll reflect negatively on the image of our team.”

“So many changes to the team’s structure this soon could hurt the image of the team, too.”

“He is hurting the image of the team.”

Luka closes his eyes and focuses on breathing.

More than an hour later, they reach their decision. By that point, Luka’s head is throbbing, just barely on the safe side of not being a full-blown headache. He’s almost too nervous to hear the verdict. It has been looking good for Sergio for the past twenty minutes, though.

In the end, they decide that Sergio ‘gets away with a reprimand, this time’.

Luka isn’t sure if he wants to kiss the manager or bash his face in. Everyone sounds like they’re doing Sergio a favour when in fact nothing happened, just a freak accident, like Sergio said. Could have been anyone, really. Could have been him. Could have quite easily been him, if they started the night at Sergio’s like they had originally planned.

Luka quietly heads out of the door once it’s clear the meeting is about to be over. He is angrier than he has any right to be, considering the outcome.

The team issues an official statement to the media shortly after. Luka doesn’t read it.

On his way back to the car, Luka stumbles upon Marco. Marco should be long gone but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere. His head snaps up when Luka approaches, eyes squinting a little.

“You waiting for someone?”

Marco nods. “Marce said he’d let me know when they finish.”

“The meeting is nearly over,” Luka says, “they agreed to let Sergio be.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he’s still our captain,” Luka says and watches Marco’s shoulders relax. He hopes Marco won’t ask Luka how he knows. “I’m sure they’ll let us know soon.”

“Oh, thank god.” Marco looks anxious and it’s strange to think how much of a difference it can make for Marco not to have Sergio there.

“Anyone else waiting here?” Luka asks because Isco is nowhere in sight.

“Just me,” Marco says and Luka takes pity on the lost-looking Spaniard.

“Do you actually need to wait for Marcelo?”

“Not really.”

“Then how about you stop sitting here like a lost duckling and come with me,” Luka tells Marco, one hand on Marco’s shoulder.

“You gonna take me under your wings?” Marco snorts and Luka resist the urge to hit him over his head.

“Just get in before I run you over,” Luka says, unlocking his car.

Marco follows without even questioning where they’re headed and Luka feels stupidly fond of him. He can definitely see why Sergio took a liking to the young kid.

Luka takes Marco to Nadya’s shop for lunch.

Naranča is behind the counter and her eyes hone in on Marco the moment they enter. “Oh hey. Is this your friend? The sick one, with the soup.” She spares a second to stop staring at Marco to shoot Luka a look that’s half puzzled, half judgemental.

Luka fights the blush that’s threatening to creep into his face when he recalls the shiver that went down his spine when Sergio’s breath caught on his lips the night before. “No, he’s not the soup friend,” he barks out quickly but Naranča is already fully focusing on Marco again, not really paying much attention to the two bowls of soup she pours for them.

Marco is looking at her too, smile playing on his lips. The two continue to stare at each other, happily ignoring everyone else. Luka realizes it would be nice if he introduced them. “This is an another friend, he’s my teammate and–” Luka realizes two things; one, he has no idea how Nadya’s granddaughter is called because he’s been content to just keep calling her Naranča to tease her, and two, neither she nor Marco are paying him any mind.

Naranča tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiles at Marco. She doesn’t have to look down at him the way she does at Luka.

“Hi there, darling,” Marco says, voice deep. Luka’s eyes narrow in suspicion at the unfamiliar tone he’s never heard from Marco before. What the hell.

Naranča looks almost bashful. “It’s Eefje.”

Luka blinks, about to ask her to repeat the sound… her name, he guesses.

But Marco’s face breaks into a huge smile and he thrusts his hand forward and says, “Pleased to meet you, Eefje.” Marco has no troubles saying her name, it sounds natural and easy when he says it but Luka can’t even replay the sound in his mind, let alone repeat it. “I’m Marco.”

Naranča lets out a squeal, snatches her hand back and scrambles for her wrist. Marco does the same but his movements are slower and more precise as he unwraps his cover.

Oh. Oh.

Wide-eyed, Luka watches them compare their soulmarks and he feels like he’s intruding on their moment.

Naranča’s eyes are brimming with tears and she’s biting down on her lip and Marco is reaching towards her as she hurriedly steps around the counter so he can gather her in his arms.

Luka grabs his bowl of soup from the counter and slinks to a nearby table, giving Marco some time to get acquainted with Naranča.

The two join him sometime later, sitting at the other side of the table opposite of Luka and talking rapidly in a language Luka doesn’t think can be Spanish because he doesn’t understand a single word and surely he’s not that bad after all these years he’s spent living here, right?

Luka shoves another spoonful of soup in his mouth, barely registering the taste.

Naranča is now basically sitting in Marco’s lap.

Luka’s fingers itch for his phone; he wants to snap a picture of the happy couple and send it to Sergio with the caption, Babysitting your duckling. Look who he’s found! but it’s not his story to tell and besides, talking about Marco happily finding his soulmate right now wouldn’t be fair to Sergio.

Shit, they really need to talk.

The two lovebirds chatter at each other while Luka finishes his soup in silence. He’s happy for Marco. He just wishes something in his life could also be that easy.

Chapter Text

Luka pulls over at Sergio’s house and switches off the engine. The radio stops playing halfway through a song and Luka clenches his fingers around the steering wheel, stalling.

“Fuck it,” he says, unfastening the seatbelt. “Fuck it,” he mutters under his breath as he gets out of the car, slamming the door shut. His heart is pounding in his chest as he crosses the path to the house.

Once again, he lets himself in with his spare keys but this time, he calls out a tentative “Hello?” into the hallway. No one answers him. Sergio’s phone has been switched off so Luka couldn’t call ahead to announce his visit.

There is the sound of the TV playing in Sergio’s room so Luka walks straight there. He knocks on the doorframe and steps inside.

“Ah. Luka.”

“Hey.” Luka takes a seat next to the bed where Sergio is lying.

Sergio looks ashen and there are dark circles under his eyes. “You really came,” he rasps.

“I wanted to stop by.”

“Wanted to have a laugh?” Sergio’s words are biting but he’s facing away from Luka, unable to meet his eyes.

“No,” Luka says, reaching for the remote and switching off the TV. Sergio doesn’t protest so Luka doubts he was really watching whatever soap opera had been on. Perhaps he’s been dozing off, trying to catch up on the sleep he missed after everything that happened. Gareth always grumbles about the painkillers making him all sleepy. “There’s not much to laugh about.” Luka’s words are too loud in the suddenly silent room. He should have left the TV on.

Sergio gets a pinched look on his face as he whispers, “I’m so sorry about that night.”

“Sergio, look at me.”

Sergio doesn’t look. “I’m really sorry,” he says.

“This is not about that. Well, in a way it is but–” Sergio is hurting because of Luka and Luka has to tell him. Sergio deserves that much. Spomenka was meant to protect his world of football, not shatter it to pieces. “I came to tell you something.”

Sergio finally turns his head to face Luka. “I’m not going to like it, am I.”

Luka shifts closer to the bed and places his hand over the covers where he knows Sergio has his hand. The hand with Luka’s name hidden beneath a wristband. Luka has never seen the mark. But Sergio made it pretty clear that it was there.

Luka takes in a breath. It’s a long story he has to tell Sergio and he doesn’t quite know where to begin. He’s practised it in his head many times. Repeated it like a mantra over the past few weeks. The words are there, stuck in his mind with no way of getting out, with no way of being voiced. Luka’s throat is dry.

Maybe if it were someone else’s story, it would be easier to tell. A story about a kid, young and frightened. A kid who never stopped being afraid, not since the day he learnt his soulmate wasn’t a girl. The kid who was young and stupid and so very tired of always looking over his shoulder, of constantly feeling watched, of constantly dreading being discovered, that he, being a stupid kid, did a stupid, stupid thing. He had a soulmark that was too dangerous to have. So he made it all go away.

Luka doesn’t know how to say it. He’s never told anyone.

The bedcovers are rough under Luka’s palm. He gives them an idle stroke, smoothing out the wrinkles.

He’s been silent for too long and Sergio quietly asks, “Are you okay?”

Luka pulls himself from his thoughts. The absurdity of Sergio asking him that question curls his lip.

Sergio waits for an answer, eyes tired but watchful. Sergio’s eyes have always been very expressive. Luka returns the stare. He needs to see Sergio’s reaction.

Luka sucks in a breath and then says in a rush, “Have you ever heard about clinics that offer a soulmark removal?”

The words hang in the air between them.

Sergio goes very, very still. His eyes are incredulous and there’s a flash of hurt that is quickly replaced by something darker and more dangerous. “I’ve heard. Of fucking course I’ve heard.” The bedcovers shift as Sergio sits up and snatches his hand to his chest, cradling his wrist to his heart. There is a fierce expression on his face. “I’ll never do that. I don’t care what you think you could do to me or my career but you’re not making me do that. Do all you want, Luka, but I’m not getting rid of it. It’s my fucking soulmark, don’t you get it?”

Luka’s mind is reeling. “No, Sergio, I didn’t say–”

“What the hell is wrong with you? It’s my soulmark, it’s a part of me.”

Luka wants to take back his first question about the clinics. It didn’t come out quite right, the implication of the sentence made it seem he was advising Sergio to get his mark removed. Luka didn’t realize how the question sounded it until the words were already past his lips and Sergio was recoiling from him in horror.

“You’ve got it all wrong.” Luka holds up his hands, placating. “I simply meant to ask if you–”

Sergio’s arm shoots out, giving Luka’s shoulder a quick jab that forces Luka to lean back in his chair. “It’s my mark and it will stay that way.”

Luka is struck by how determined Sergio sounds. “You really want to keep it. Despite everything.” It’s not a question because Sergio is very clear on the subject, it’s that Luka has hard time understanding what Sergio is so protective about. The soulmark is nothing more than a memento of something that could have been. Especially since Sergio still thinks it’s Spomenka who is Luka’s soulmate.

“Of course I’m fucking keeping it. It’s a piece of my soul. I’m never getting rid of it, you hear me? Never.”

Luka gives Sergio a twisted smile. “Okay. That’s all right,” he says, wishing he had just an ounce Sergio’s fierce courage all those years ago when he stood in front of the clinic.

Sergio shoots him a glare, clearly not trusting Luka’s meek agreement. “I don’t care if it’s a mistake.”

“Um, I never said it was.”

“I’ve heard it all before, okay? About the things I’ve fucked up. Can’t even remember how many times I’ve heard that I should just fuck off already since everyone would be so much happier without me. People keep reminding me all the time. But this,” Sergio clenches his fist and stares down at the cover that is hiding his mark, “this is mine. You can’t take it away.”

I already did.

Luka wonders who told Sergio those things. Maybe it was Ivan during that el Clásico match, maybe it was someone from the team meeting after Sergio’s accident. Luka hopes Sergio didn’t get that impression from him during one of their arguments about this game or that. “I wouldn’t,” he says, then clarifies, “be happier.”

“Is that so? Is that why you’d like my mark to disappear?”

“No, Sergio, that’s not what I meant.”

“Even if it’s fucked up, it’s what fits my soul, okay? It still makes sense. You have your Spomenka,” the name drips from Sergio’s lips like poison and it takes all Luka has not to flinch at the sound, “and I don’t get to have anyone. But you can’t make me give up the mark. Maybe it doesn’t mean shit to you but to me it matters.”

Keep your composure, Luka reminds himself. He doesn’t say anything because he’s worried that his voice would came out broken. Sergio would hear all the untold lies in his tone. Luka prefers to gather his thoughts before he speaks while Sergio doesn’t mind figuring things out as he goes. Things that Sergio says feel honest and raw, there is no time to include lies. Sergio reacts based on his instincts, Luka likes to plan ahead.

Several long moments pass before Sergio sighs. “Look,” he says, a tad calmer, “I’ll make sure no one ever sees it, all right? No one will suspect a thing. You can rest assured. No one is interested in letting people know about your name on my wrist, Luka.”

Luka squeezes his eyes shut but it doesn’t help, the image comes unbidden to him; the generous swirl of his own name across Sergio’s skin, curled around the underside of Sergio’s wrist. It might be hidden from prying eyes but Luka knows it’s there and he’ll never be able to forget it, each time his eyes catch on Sergio’s cover, he’ll have a vivid image of what’s hiding underneath.

Sergio speaks again, slow and almost hesitant. “So, what I’m trying to say, is that I won’t get rid of it. Ever. But no one will ever know, so you don’t have to worry about it. In fact, I think it really would be best if you could forget about this as well. Like you did when I–” Sergio waves to Luka’s hand, “we got past that, right? We can get past this as well.”

Luka imagines taking Sergio up on that offer. They would agree to never mention it again and they would try to go back to how things were before. Things would be awkward on the pitch. Sergio would keep getting frustrated about his mark. Luka would still be on the verge of falling apart because whenever he would see Sergio’s cover, he’d know.

It couldn’t work.

Besides, right now Sergio is convinced that Luka is asking him to get rid of his mark. To think that Luka would ever ask that of Sergio leaves a bitter taste in Luka’s mouth. He doesn’t want to leave Sergio thinking Luka wants Sergio’s soulmark gone. There are only so many lies he can tell.

He draws in a breath, lets out a slow exhale. He repeats the process a couple of times and Sergio, wonderfully, stays silent until the tightness in Luka’s throat eases off and Luka finds his voice again.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Luka says and watches as Sergio’s expression shatters and shit, shit, this has been a completely wrong thing to say.

Luka wishes this whole day never happened.

Chapter Text

Luka pushes his hair back from his face in a jerky move. He’s annoyed at himself. He’s planned this conversation, played it out in his head, thought about the questions Sergio might ask. But nothing has gone the way he wanted.

The distress is clear on Sergio’s face. “Luka, please, let us forget about it.”

“Bloody hell,” Luka curses. “I can’t.”

Sergio looks like he’s contemplating the merits of getting up to pace back and forth.

“Fuck, wait, Sergio. I didn’t mean to say this is something I can’t get over. It’s just that I don’t want to pretend nothing happened.”

“I thought we were okay.”

“We are okay.”

“No, I… I thought we were making progress but I just. I read it wrong. I did so many things wrong.”

“You didn’t,” Luka says because it’s been him and not Sergio who got them into this mess.

“Yeah right,” Sergio scoffs, derisive.

“Well, yanking off my cover was a low blow,” Luka says, “but I get where you were coming from. We moved past that.”

“I shouldn’t have let my mark affect me so much. I’m sorry about the kiss.”

“Don’t be.” It wasn’t a kiss. “It’s not what I came here to talk about anyway.” Luka tugs at the hem of his shirt, then crosses his arms, thumb pressing against his cover.

“It’s not?”

“No. You just… distracted me with how much you care about your mark. I’m glad you told me that, Sergio. But I definitely didn’t mean to imply that you should get rid of yours.”

“Uh. Okay?” Sergio’s brows furrow in confusion, a deep line forming between them and Luka wants to reach out and smooth it out.

“When I asked you about the clinics. I wasn’t talking about you. Or your mark. I was talking about me.”

Sergio keeps frowning at him for a moment, then his eyes widen and he says with a desperate urgency, “Don’t do it. Lukita, don’t do it, I’m begging you.” He scoots to the edge of his bed and for a moment he looks like he’ll reach out and grab Luka’s hand as if that could keep Luka from making such an ill-fated decision.

Too late, Luka thinks, leaning further back in his chair. Something must show on his face because Sergio makes a choked sound and then he’s really reaching out and grabbing Luka’s elbow to keep Luka from bolting.

From up this close, Luka can see the turmoil of emotions flicker across Sergio’s confused face.

“Why the fuck would you want to do that? If you want to get rid of Spomenka’s name because of my mark, then it’s not worth it. What we have between us can’t outweigh your soulbond. We can work on the pitch just fine. I’ll do better, I’ll stop… Just, no, Luka, don’t do it, it’s horrible and it severs the bond. They say there’s no worse pain in the world than that.”

Silently, Luka agrees with that. The moment his bond was gone, the pain almost made him retch. Worse than that, as the pain slowly ebbed away, Luka realized the remaining twinges stayed buried deep in his chest and surged up, sharp and jagged and ready to cut him open and make him bleed whenever he thought too much about the missing mark. The ever-present guilt didn’t help either.

“Luka, there is a Spomenka out there for you, I’m sure of it. You’ll find her and you’ll be disgustingly happy with her–”

Luka makes a strangled noise, he can’t help it. He tries to yank his arm free but Sergio doesn’t let him go, fingers gripping tight.

“No, Luka. Don’t do it, you’ll meet her, you’ll meet your Spomenka. We’ll figure it out in the meanwhile, I swear. We’ll learn how to work together on the pitch again and I’ll do my best to regain your trust. I swear to you I’ll work on everything I’ve made a mess out of. It’ll be all right. Just… don’t get rid of Spomenka’s name, Jesus.”

“But what about you?”

Sergio finally lets him go. “Me?”

Luka inclines his head to Sergio’s wrist. “Where do you stand in this?”

“Nowhere,” Sergio says quickly. “I swear I won’t cause you and Spomenka any troubles, Luka.”

Luka makes a frustrated noise. “Not what I meant.”

“I don’t know what you meant, you’re making zero sense. Why would you want to… no, just. Luka, don’t do it. If you lose the mark, you lose her.”

‘I lost you,’ Luka doesn’t say. Instead, he says what his younger self thought would happen. “Maybe without the mark, I could finally just focus on football.”

“Football isn’t worth it,” Sergio says quietly. “It’s not worth losing your soulbond over it.”

To Luka, at the age of twelve, football was worth everything. Severing a link to some boy with a weird name, a boy Luka has never met, seemed like a small price to pay. Everybody at school knew two boys couldn’t share a soulbond anyway.

“Isn’t it?”

Sergio shakes his head. “It wouldn’t help anything, Luka. It wouldn’t help me and it would break you. It’s your soulmark, it’s a part connected to your soul, can you imagine what it would do, if you ripped it out?”

“I know–” Luka tries to explain, but the sound catches in his throat.

Sergio squeezes his hand. “You don’t know. Because if you truly did, you would never contemplate such thing.”

Luka clenches his teeth, refusing to let the tears welling in his eyes fall.

Sergio goes on, voice softening. “You’re not giving up on your future because of my mark, okay? You and Spomenka just haven’t met yet but you can’t throw it all away just because you’ve met me first and I was being selfish. I’ve heard of unrequited marks before. Give me some time to make my peace with it but Luka, please, don’t give up on your own happiness.”

Luka has never heard of unrequited marks, never even stumbled upon it in all his research on the duality principle. He wonders if Sergio has really heard anything or if it’s the captain side of him trying to placate Luka.

“Look, you have Spomenka’s mark. Your soul chose her. It means she can make you happy.”

‘You make me happy, mark or not,’ Luka almost blurts out but in the end, he just asks, “Is that what the mark means to you?” Surely Luka doesn’t make Sergio any happier just because of some mark. Although, getting rid of the mark sure brought them both a lot of grief.

“Uf. More or less? The mark I have on my wrist is there for a reason. If you get rid of the mark you’ll never be able to feel your soulmate’s emotions. That only happens when soulmates touch their marks, did you know that?”

Luka knows that now. He didn’t, all those years ago. “And you?”

Sergio blinks. “What about me?”

“Will you be happy?”

The silence that follows last only a few moments but to Luka it feels like it takes Sergio forever to respond. “That’s not a fair question, Luka. I’ve always pictured you as my soulmate.”

Luka’s breath catches in his throat. “But I’m not your soulmate.”

“Clearly. I’m not Spomenka.”

“I don’t have your mark,” Luka gets out.

“I know!” Sergio growls.

“And you wanted to kiss me anyway,” Luka says, heart beating in his chest and his hands are slightly shaking, he has to keep them resting on his arms to hide the tremors. He’s unable to collect himself.

He’s always been so sure it was the soulmate’s bond Sergio would want from him. And Luka knew it was something he could no longer offer.

“Shut up,” Sergio says and reaches up to punch Luka’s arm but it doesn’t actually hurt. “I thought you weren’t here to talk about that.”

They still have a bond between them, Luka realizes. It’s not a soulmate bond but it’s strong nonetheless. “We’re really going to be okay,” Luka mumbles.

“Of course we are. Your friendship means too much, Luka.”

Luka lets out a breath that he’s been holding, he can finally breathe.

Sergio no longer expects them to be soulmates and more importantly, Sergio doesn’t need them to be soulmates in order for their friendship to prevail.

Something eases off Luka’s chest. They can be friends without the threat of the broken bond looming over Luka’s head. He attempts a smile. “Same.”

“Jesus Christ, this is a mess,” Sergio sighs but there’s no anger or confusion anymore.

Their friendship is something special and something Luka can have. Even though he doesn’t have the mark. Even though it will take a few lies to protect it. Luka has been lying for years. He can do it.

“On the plus side,” Luka says gesturing between the two of them, “no one besides me and you know about it.”

Luka is gesturing with his left hand but he doesn’t realize until Sergio’s eyes catch on Luka’s cover and then slip away to look at Sergio’s own. “I wouldn’t mind. If the world knew,” Sergio says, thoughtful.

“It’s none of their business, they shouldn’t pry.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Sergio repeats. “But don’t worry, Luka. I said I’ll keep it safely hidden.”

Luka manages a smile, hopes it’s not too watery. He doesn’t want to tell Sergio the truth about their severed bond and risk Sergio turning away from him.

Spomenka has been the merciful lie once again.

They’re both silent for a moment, then Luka catches Sergio stifling a yawn against his shoulder.

He nudges Sergio’s side and says, “You look tired. You should get some rest.”

“Stop patronising me,” Sergio says but he doesn’t sound put off. “I’ve been resting the whole day.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow after practice,” Luka says.

“They won’t let me show my face at the stadium this soon. I’ll have to sit this one out.”

“Haven’t they cleared you?”

“The doctors? Sure. But not in an official statement. I’m not playing and they’ll let the press assume it’s because of the accident.”

“Oh.” Luka lets his hand linger on Sergio’s shoulder for a moment before he gets up and makes his way to the door. “I’ll stop by before we leave for Eibar.”

“You do that,” Sergio replies and watches him until Luka leaves the room.

Chapter Text

Eibar is ready for them.

It doesn’t matter what they try, Eibar always finds the answer, leaving Real several paces behind. Eibar scores their first goal fifteen minutes into the game.

Marce spits on the grass, cursing.

It’s not going their way at all.

Solari tugs on his tie and starts pacing. That is never a good sign.

On the pitch, Benze gets fouled by Cucurella who receives a yellow. Another yellow follows barely three minutes later when Jordán clashes with Toni. Real doesn’t take advantage of any of the free kicks they’re given and despite their best efforts, the score remains unchanged. Cote brings down Gareth just before the halftime but the refs don’t see it that way and it’s Gareth who gets a yellow for voicing his protests.

“I can’t believe we’re losing to Eibar,” Marce grunts during the halftime break.

Luka glances over from the massage table where he’s getting the twinge in left shin soothed out. He doesn’t say anything.

“Fucking Eibar,” Marce enthuses.

Solari storms into the locker room to deliver his pep talk but Luka shares Marce’s sentiment and from the look of it, the rest of the guys on the team have also resigned themselves to their fate today.

It’s a relief when Luka gets subbed off for Isco barely twenty minutes into the second half. He hides the discomfort well, but his leg is still in pain. Some ten minutes later, Vini goes out and Marco plops down into the seat next to Luka.

They watch as the game continues to unravel. It’s inevitable and rather depressing to watch it happen from the sidelines. Sergio, who is stuck watching this clusterfuck of a game at home, must be climbing the walls.

Luka turns to Marco. “So, how’s Eve?”

Marco’s whole face lights up. “Eefje,” he corrects Luka. “She’s half-Dutch from her mother’s side, did you know?”

Luka wonders if he can get away with calling her Naranča to Marco’s face. “Um, right. You really must have a lot in common with her. How is she?”

Marco ducks his head, smile softening. “Great. She’s doing great. She moved in with me last week and so far it’s been perfect.”

That was fast, Luka thinks. “Yeah? Is it nice to have her close?”

“Yeah. It’s everything I ever imagined. Hearing her laugh makes me happy and the way she’s just there and I always know where to find her is really comforting, and when I touch her mark it’s beyond words, you know?”

Luka doesn’t know and he never will. “You’re lucky to have met her so early.”

Marco looks up, eyes bright, smile blinding. Luka wonders if the cameras are catching it, if it will make the news, that Marco can still smile like that when Real is falling apart on the pitch.

“I know, right? I’m really thankful, Luka. That first meeting was something incredible,” Marco says. “I’m glad you introduced us. What a coincidence that I walked into the shop with you.”

Luka nods. “It was simply meant to be.”

“Thank you,” Marco says and the smile doesn’t leave his face even when they get a scolding from Solari for succumbing to Eibar 3–0.

It’s a whole different story when they win 2–0 against Roma in the Champions League. Lucas is all smiles, happy about his goal but he’s got nothing on Gareth who opened the score and has been overjoyed ever since. In the second period, Gareth created chances left and right and landed a sweet pass to Benze who found Lucas who found the net.

Luka will have bruises on his thigh where Gareth has been punching him in excitement on the bench once they were both subbed off. Frankly, Luka would be having a better time if he wasn’t the one who got a yellow for sending El Shaarawy limping off the pitch.

“I’m telling you, I’m telling you, this is our night. This is brilliant!” Gareth is almost shouting.

Luka smiles and lets Gareth thump him on the back and hang onto his side as they head out for the team’s celebrations. It’s almost like they’re in London again and they finally have a reason to go and have some fun. Luka forces a smile to stay on his face.

A couple of hours and drinks later, Luka finds himself squeezed between Gareth and Toni, engaged in a game of Who Lurks. Luka aces the game but it’s no fun at all when Sergio’s not here because him and Sergio are the only two who know about the glitch in the system. They’ve been waiting for the others to get clued in but no one suspects a thing yet. There’s no one to exchange furtive glances with. There’s no one to avoid looking at after another ‘lucky guess’ in fear of snorting with laughter. It’s Luka’s lest rewarding victory in forever.

Gareth downs a shot each time he guesses wrong and he’s soon beyond wasted. Luka pities whoever draws the short straw and will have to make sure Gareth gets into a bed in one piece.

As the night progresses, Luka feels his smile becoming more and more strained. He retires to his hotel room the moment the celebrations start winding down.

Their plane from Rome back to Madrid takes off late in the morning the following day. They have four days until they’re hosting Valencia on Saturday. The next two games are scheduled to be played at home.

Luka puts on another audiobook in Spanish and stares out of the window, watching the land low beneath them, hoping to catch the sight of the sea.

On the seat next to him, Gareth lets out a pitiful whine each time the plane jostles his head in an unpleasant way.

“I’m never drinking again,” Gareth is telling anyone who will listen and Lucas is already opening bets on how long that ‘never’ will last. Luka places his bet on ‘until the end of the week’, earning himself an annoyed a kick to the leg from Gareth. When Luka doesn’t yield, Gareth ends up stubbornly pressing his leg against Luka’s.

“Easy money, if you ask me,” Luka says. Gareth ignores him for the rest of the flight, which is pretty much okay with Luka. He has the audiobook to focus on. He is only half-sure Marce keeps recommending him horribly confusing stories on purpose.

His mind is still trying to puzzle out the plot when they’re waiting for their luggage. He can’t quite fathom if there was any time travelling involved or if the story simply had two parallel plotlines. He’ll have to ask Marce about it.

As if summoned by the thought, Marce pops up by Luka’s side but he doesn’t want to discuss books. “Benze says we’re all going bowling tonight, you in?”

Luka suppresses a sigh. They have mandatory team lunch and dinner today and a not-quite-so-optional training session in between. Luka can only pretend everything is peachy for so long.

“Hell yeah,” he says anyway because it’ll be easier to show up and get swept with the excitement of the crowd than explain his absence.

“Great. See you there,” Marce nods.

“Great,” Luka echoes. It’s comforting to know the team can run without a hitch in Sergio’s absence but at the same time, the way no one brings it up or mentions it, like they don’t even realize Sergio is missing, it makes Luka feel all wrong-footed. “It’ll be an awesome night.”

Marce gives him a toothy grin. “You bet it will. I’ll make sure everybody is having fun.”

“You better make sure nobody tries to kill anyone,” Luka grumbles but Marce just laughs.

When Luka finally gets home in the evening, he has just enough time to fix himself another tea he doesn’t drink and change his clothes before he has to go out again.

“Bloody Benzema,” he mutters under his breath as he shuts the front door.

Chapter Text

Valencia and Melilla eat their dust and though Huesca manages to scrape a win over them, the team is still in a good mood on their way back to Madrid. Sergio is finally back with the team and everyone is acting as if he was never gone.

Sergio is chatting with some people who seem content to keep stealing his time and when Luka catches his gaze across the row of empty chairs, Sergio tilts his head to the man to his left and his smile goes a little strained. He can’t quite roll his eyes without the others noticing but Luka is absolutely certain that if Sergio could get away with it, he would be doing exactly that. Luka bites his lip, hides his smile and glances away. It’s good to have Sergio back.

Not willing to risk Sergio slipping away once they’ve arrived, Luka sends him a text. Wanna come over?

After a few moments, Sergio responds, Already on my way.

Luka walks to the parking lot and unlocks his car at an unhurried pace because he refuses to make this into a race of who reaches Luka’s place first.

Three crossroads later, Luka passes Sergio, who is in a different line, stuck behind a peloton of cyclists, going maybe thirty kilometres per hour. Chuckling to himself, Luka leaves Sergio far behind, flashing the car’s rear lights as he whooshes past.

He is home for maybe fifteen minutes, when he hears Sergio knock on the door. Luka’s lips quirk up because Sergio’s knock comes with a distinct pattern that became familiar to Luka a long time ago. “Just let yourself in,” Luka calls out and when he hears the footsteps, he teasingly asks, “What took you so long?”

“I hate you,” Sergio says as he enters the kitchen.

“No you don’t,” Luka replies, almost automatic.

“No, I don’t,” Sergio sighs and folds himself on the stool by the kitchen counter. “What are you making? Let me help you with that.”

“No way,” Luka says, swatting Sergio’s hands away. “Remember last time?”

“Lukita, you wound me, that was one time and it happened ages ago,” Sergio protests, voice almost whining.

“Reheating your mother’s soup, how simple is that? Do I have to remind you how it went?”

“It’s not like it went up in flames!”

“It was a near thing,” Luka says drily.

Sergio huffs. “Fine then. Suit yourself. See if I ever help you with anything again.”

“We’ll see about that. You can wash the grapes if you want to help so badly.”

“Hm, the grapes. Are you sure you can trust me with that?” Sergio says but he still reaches for the fruit and gets up.

“Sure I can, it’s one of my many talents.”

“Speaking of your many talents, I’ve heard you managed to find Marco’s soulmate,” Sergio says and the easy atmosphere between them changes just like that.

Luka clears his throat. “Oh. He told you about that?”

“He’s telling everyone he meets, he’s absolutely delighted about his bond, the lucky bastard.”

Luka looks up at Sergio and opens his mouth but no words make it past the tight pressure in his throat.

In the end Luka doesn’t get to say anything at all, because Sergio suddenly stops in his tracks and loudly asks, “Is Gaz here?” He looks around like he thinks Gareth might appear from behind any corner.

Luka glances up from where he is drizzling avocado oil over some Brussels sprouts. “What? No.”

Sergio wordlessly gestures to the untouched tea sitting next to the sink.

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that,” Sergio repeats slowly.

“That’s from last night,” Luka explains.

If anything, Sergio’s expression gets darker. “From last night, huh?”

Luka feels the weight of Sergio’s gaze but he can’t bring himself to return it. He shifts on his feet, smoothes his shirt down his sides. “What?”

“You said you didn’t date outside of your bond,” Sergio says sharply.

“I didn’t say that.”

“The fuck you didn’t! Don’t you recall?” Sergio almost snarls. “Let me refresh your memory. You got back from Croatia and we were making plans to watch A Quiet Place when I asked you about it. And you said–”

“I never answered you, Sergio. If you remember correctly, all I said was that I wanted Thai.” That was a narrow miss and Luka tends to remember those very well.

“Ah.” Sergio glares at the poor teacup so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter under the force.

Luka crosses the room, takes the cup and slowly pours the cold tea down the drain. His hand is shaking slightly and there’s no way Sergio doesn’t notice.

“So, is this about Gareth?”

Luka tries to keep his voice calm but he knows he’s failing miserably. “What about him?” He washes the teacup under running water and then takes the grapes Sergio has all but forgotten about and gives them a rinse.

Sergio asks in one breath, “Is that why you’re getting rid of the mark?”

“I’m not getting rid of it,” Luka says. Quite the opposite, actually.

“You aren’t?”

“Well, I mean. Um.” He can’t imagine keeping the tattoo on his skin forever but Sergio doesn’t know about the tattoo, he’s asking about Luka’s soulmark and there’s nothing that could be done about the soulmark.

“Don’t get rid of the mark, Luka. It’s the best thing you’ll ever have.” Sergio leans over to stop the tap, then he grabs Luka’s hands and squeezes. “Promise me you won’t get rid of it. Not for anyone.”

“I can’t promise you that,” Luka croaks.

Sergio makes a frustrated noise and lets go of Luka’s hands.

“Sergio, wait!”

Sergio steps away from Luka. “I have to– I should,” he starts making his excuses as he backtracks. He makes it two more steps before he bumps into a coffee table. “Shit, sorry,” he says, grabbing the table to stop it from scraping across the floor. On the table, there are some papers Luka has brought back from Zagreb. They were neatly piled up to be sorted out later but as Sergio jostles the table, the papers slip loose and fly across the floor. “Ah, shit, sorry,” Sergio swears again as he bends down to pick the papers back up.

Luka sees it happen in front of his eyes but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. Sergio reaches for the papers from the Zagreb court hearing’s security check. He glances down and freezes, staring at the signature Luka put on the dotted line.

Sergio’s fingers go slack. The papers slip to the floor once again. Sergio’s eyes are wide, wet and full of disbelief. “It can’t be,” he breathes out. He looks like his whole world is coming apart in front of his eyes and the panicked look turns Luka’s blood to ice. He wants to help but he has no idea how.

“Sergio, what’s going on?”

Sergio isn’t listening. He sinks to the floor, clutching his own arm, right above his cover. “No. This isn’t possible.” Sergio sounds incredulous.

Luka’s heart starts beating wildly in his chest. “What? What is it?”

“The mark– My mark. Your name. It’s not– It doesn’t look like that. But I know it’s you. It has to be you.”

Luka doesn’t say anything. He’s barely breathing but Sergio’s breath is quick and shallow.

Sergio goes on, “When I told Marce that I knew it was you he said I was crazy because of that first meeting we had. But you don’t have my name so it makes sense we didn’t bond back then.”

“It’s not like we’ve bonded since,” Luka points out.

“Haven’t we?”

Luka opens his mouth, closes it again. “Not like that,” he says. He thinks about Naranča wrapping her arms around Marco in delight. He thinks about the silent conversations Marce always has with Clarice, meaning conveyed with a few exchanged looks. He thinks about that girl his mother made him meet, the Spomenka with pink braided hair and the fond smile on her lips as she talked about Luca, her Hungarian soulmate. “Not like that,” Luka repeats, but he no longer sounds certain.

“I don’t care. It can’t be anyone else,” Sergio shakes his head, looks up at Luka. “I don’t want it to be anyone else.”

Luka can’t believe this is happening. For a few moments he stares down at Sergio, then at the scattered papers. “Would it make things better between us if your mark wasn’t my name?”

“No, it fucking wouldn’t!” Sergio says hotly and that’s decided, then. “It would suck if it wasn’t your name. But if it’s not then fuck the mark. I told you that I want it to be you no matter what your or mine mark says. I just want– What are you doing?”

Luka grabs a pen and one of the scattered papers. He settles on the floor next to Sergio, his back resting against a wall.

“Here, look.” He writes down his name, movements a little jerky as his hands are still shaking. But it’s clearly his signature, the one he uses for legal purposes, not the generous strokes he uses for all the PR events. He shoves the paper towards Sergio. “I was so nervous at the court that when they gave me the papers to sign, I didn’t even think about which signature I was putting down,” he explains.

Sergio snatches the paper from his hands and holds onto it like it’s a lifeline, tracing the letters of Luka’s name with reverent fingers. Sergio doesn’t let go of the paper when he reaches for Luka and drags him close. Luka rests his head on Sergio’s shoulder and keeps silent, listening as Sergio’s rapid breathing returns to normal.

“I’m sorry,” Sergio says eventually.

“Me too.”

“So it’s really your mark,” Sergio says quietly and pushes the paper he’s been holding along the floor to the rest of the other discarded papers. “It’s good to be certain about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Luka starts but Sergio just gives him one last tight squeeze and breaks from the embrace. He gets up on his feet, extends his hand to Luka.

“Luka, whatever is going on between you and Gareth–”

“Nothing’s going on,” Luka says.

“Uh-huh,” Sergio drawls and Luka fidgets uncomfortably under the inquisitive sidelong glance Sergio directs at him. “My point still stands. Don’t get rid of your mark. You’ll regret it.”

“Right. Thanks for the advice,” Luka grumbles. They gather up the papers and Luka places them neatly on the table while Sergio gathers his things. “You sure you don’t want to stay?”

Sergio shakes his head and turns away to get out of the room. “You’re being an idiot, Luka. A fucking idiot. You’re going to ruin your own life.”

“Already did,” Luka says to the closed door.

For the first time in years, Luka wonders if Spomenka was the right choice. The fake tattoo itches under his cover.

Chapter Text

On a fairly chilly day in mid December, Bernabéu witnesses CSKA Moscow winning 3–0 against Real. CSKA is the last team of their group so the victory doesn’t change much for them as far as the Champions League is concerned. It’s Real who advances to the knockout phase, despite the humiliating result of the last match.

The frustration makes Luka skin crawl. Their inability to perform in front of their fans at home stinks. But that’s not the worst part of the day. That comes right after the match ends.

The final whistle blows and Gareth flops to the ground, heaving, fingers raking through the strands of the mixto grass. Luka can’t tell if it’s from pain or frustration so he heads over to find out.

It happens the moment he reaches Gareth and leans down to offer him a hand. All of the sudden, there is someone’s hand grabbing Luka’s shoulder, yanking him backward. There is angry shouting and more shoving and Luka gets his foot all wrong underneath him and loses his footing. As he falls, Luka sees Marce running towards him, Sergio in tow.

The curses continue to fly in quick Russian, most of which Luka doesn’t understand. He hits the ground with a gasp and one of the CSKA players lands on him when Luka tries to get back up on his feet. Luka faceplants into the grass and feels something pop in his ankle. Before he manages to gather his bearings, he is forcefully lifted off the ground as someone pulls him to his feet by his hand. Luka yelps when the rough fingers dig into his cover at an awkward angle. The cover snaps, biting into his wrist and Luka feels it pierce the skin. The blood starts pooling from the wound and Luka gingerly holds his hand away from his jersey as he stumbles his way into the dressing room.

What an awful end to an awful game, he thinks.

“You okay?” Sergio is by his side in no time, though Luka would have expected him to get into the brawl that has surely ensued on the pitch.

“Yeah,” Luka groans when he tries to move down the stairs, leaning heavily into the railing and aggravating his injured hand in an effort to avoid stepping on his injured leg. “Fuck. I think I might have rolled my ankle.”

“Hold on,” Sergio says, throwing one arm around Luka for support, taking off some of the weight as he lets Luka lean into him. The make it to the medical but the room is empty, everyone is still on the pitch, tending to Gareth and taking care of the rest of the team.

“I need a re-wrap,” Luka assesses. He peels off the cover with little care for Sergio’s curious gaze. Sergio has already seen it, after all.

He cleans the wound, washes off the blood, wipes it dry. The cut’s not deep and it didn’t get into the area of the name. Luka grabs the gauze and struggles to tie a knot around his own wrist. He nods mutely when Sergio offers his help.

Sergio grabs the two ends of the wrap and when he looks down on Luka’s wrist, he frowns.

Luka glances down to see what’s the matter. The scar is a thin pale line against the reddened skin, running along the tattooed name. Luka isn’t sure if it’s so glaringly obvious just to him or if Sergio noticed it too. He snatches his hand back and uses his teeth to secure the wrapping in place himself.

“What happened?” Sergio asks, voice small. This is not the captain asking for a report. Sergio crosses his arms, looking so lost that Luka wonders if it could have been the sight of Spomenka’s name on Luka’s wrist that upset him. At this point, Sergio likely hates the sight of the name just as much as Luka.

“The cover snapped when someone grabbed me,” Luka says and quickly hides his hand from sight. “The edge cut into my skin.” Which is not the cause of the scar but Luka would rather bite his own tongue off than to tell Sergio about it. Maybe Sergio was so focused on the wrongness of the name that he didn’t notice the scar.

Sergio hisses. “Must have hurt.”

“I’m fine. Just a cut like any other. The ankle hurts like hell, though.”

“I’ll get you some ice for that,” Sergio says when he sees Luka gingerly propping his leg up. “You think it’s torn?”

“Just pulled, I hope,” Luka says, accepting the ice bag and placing it on his ankle.

“Still sucks.”

“Yeah. We’re playing Rayo in three days.” Luka feels around his ankle to see if there’s any swelling. There’s not but the knot of the makeshift cover on his hand starts turning red as the blood seeps through. Luka curses and this time he lets Sergio wrap it up.

Marce pokes his head into the room shortly after. “Sergio, you have to–”

Sergio nods, crossing the room to join Marce. “I know. The media.”

Marce looks around the deserted room. “Where the fuck is everyone?”

“Fussing over Gaz,” Sergio says, nudging Marce back into the hallway and following after him.

“We’ll send someone down to you,” Marce calls over his shoulder to Luka.

“I’m fine.” Luka waves them off and waits till the door is shut behind them, then tries to put some weight on the ankle. He grimaces at the pain. “Fuck.”

There’s no way he’s playing against Rayo.

It’s pretty much what he gets told several minutes later by the doctors. Keep the foot elevated, ice it, rest it. No playing for at least five days. He is likely going to miss the Club World Cup semi-final against Kashima but if Real pulls through, he might just be ready for the final game of the year.

Looks like my schedule will be free after all. Luka wonders if it’s a sign or not.

Sergio must be already done with the interviews and other duties because he is waiting for Luka when he exits the medical.

“It’s not torn,” Luka informs him.

“But you’re still out,” Sergio fills in.

“Give it a week,” Luka hums.

“Fuck. What will you do?”

“I’m going back home,” Luka tells him.

“Yeah, no shit,” Sergio says, peeling himself off the wall. “I didn’t think you’d want to sleep in here.”

Luka purses his lips into a thin line, then explains, “Home, as in Croatia.” It’s strange to say it like that. He no longer considers the room his mother always kept ready for him ‘home’. He has no real home back in Croatia. The house across the town from his mother’s place has never felt like home to him.

Home is in Spain but at the same time, it’s not because Croatia will always be his home. Spain is a lot like home but it’s not the same, the people aren’t the same, the game isn’t the same, the sea isn’t the same.

“Ah.”

“I’m not good to play,” Luka waves to his ankle with his injured hand. “And I need to run a few errands in Zagreb anyway.”

“Want me to tell the guys?”

Luka shakes his head. “I can tell them myself.”

Sergio drums his fingers against his thigh. “Right. I guess you’ll be going tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan,” Luka agrees. “But for now, I just want to go to bed.”

“Want me to drive you to your house?”

“Uggh, this is going to suck,” Luka realizes, looking down at his injured hand and ankle. “Yes. Could we take my car?”

“No problem. Just give me your keys.”

Luka produces the keys and Sergio snatches them from him with a swiftness that leaves Luka gaping at him. Sergio gives him a shit-eating grin as he dangles the keychain from his index finger and Luka must be missing a joke or something because he has no idea why Sergio is so amused.

They reach the parking lot and Luka climbs into the passenger’s seat of his car. He lets out a low growl of annoyance as he struggles to click the seatbelt in place while avoiding disturbing the wrapping around his wrist. When he finally manages the seatbelt, Sergio places his hand on Luka’s knee, warm and heavy.

“You’ll be all right in a couple of days,” Sergio says, giving Luka’s knee a reassuring pat before retreating his hand and turning on the ignition.

“I know,” Luka grunts and turns to stare out of the window as the engine purrs to life.

It’s a good thing he’s going away. He can survive the stifling emptiness of his own house in Zagreb if it means he’ll get a break from all of this. Not seeing Sergio for a few days is just what he needs to get his head on straight.

That night when Sergio almost fell apart on Luka’s kitchen floor after he saw the wrong signature, Luka wanted to take the cover off and show Sergio the mark that was no longer there.

The way Sergio looked at the mark back in the medical, it made Luka’s skin crawl. It made him want to scratch the tattoo away.

Every now and then Luka would unconsciously brush his fingers against his cover and he would be hit with a stifling feeling of wrongness. Never before had it felt so wrong to have a tattoo with Spomenka’s name in a place where his soulmark should be. Where it used to be.

Sergio’s voice suddenly interrupts Luka’s musings, “Hey, did you get any painkillers for that?”

Luka glances down, realizes he is touching his own cover again. Sergio’s hand is on Luka’s shoulder, his face looks concerned. They’ve reached Luka’s place without Luka noticing and the car is sitting there, idling.

Luka musters a smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine in just a couple of days. As good as new.” Almost. There are things he can’t take back.

Chapter Text

December in Zagreb is a far cry from a sunny summer and Luka pulls his jacket closer to himself when he crosses the distance between the parking lot and the clinic. The biting wind ruffles his hair and Luka hurries to get out of the street and into the warmth of the building in front of him. He reaches the entrance and wavers.

He remembers all the reasons that led him to a similar clinic here in Zagreb all those years ago. He remembers vividly why he chose that path. But he also remembers the way Sergio looked at Luka’s so called mark. The way his eyes grew hard and distant, the way his face went tense.

Luka hates the tattoo. And he has already made an appointment. They’re discreet, he knows that. The artist is one Šime has often mentioned and praised. Luka thinks the owner of the place is a brother of one of Šime’s friends but he isn’t quite sure.

It was still October when Luka booked an appointment for the end of March, figuring he would have nearly half a year to get himself mentally ready for this step. But the artist called him a few days ago saying that a spot has opened up because some other client got sick and couldn’t make it and would Luka like to move up his appointment to this Tuesday? Luka agreed and here he is now. He didn’t even have to figure out how to make a stop in Zagreb on his way to Japan without the team questioning it. Due to his injured ankle, his schedule has cleared up.

“I’m here now,” Luka mutters under his breath. No backing out now.

He has an appointment to keep. He was so sure when he called the number. His hand might have been shaking a little as he pressed the pad of his finger to the number on the screen of his phone but when the call came through, his voice was steady. He thought he would have more time, though. Time to clear things up with his mother, time to explain things to Sergio.

Luka shakes his head and takes the first step, forcing his foot to move over the threshold.

The hallway is dimly lit and Luka, having come from the outside, takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to it. The hallway isn’t furnished, there aren’t any chairs to wait in and there is no carpet to muffle his steps. There is no way to make his steps quiet on the tiled floor. He finds the correct door and raps his knuckles on it.

A woman with short brown hair, no cover over her mark and a soft watercolour tattoo spanning the entire length of her arm asks him in a kind tone, “What can I do for you?”

“I would like–”

Luka would like to make things right. He wants things to be the way they were meant to be. It won’t be the same – it can’t be the same ever again but Spomenka isn’t the name he was meant to have on his wrist.

Each time he catches a glimpse of the false name he picked instead, his heart clenches, guilt squeezing it tight. The meaning of the name is nothing but a painful reminder. It needs to go. It’s wrong and it hasn’t helped anything. Instead of Sergio’s name, he is hiding Spomenka’s.

Luka clears his throat. “I have an appointment for 10:40,” he tells the woman and she smiles and nods in understanding. He feels more and more certain about this whole thing every second.

“Please follow me.”

Unlike the hallway, the room to which he is lead is brightly lit and furnished. It’s also full of Christmas decorations that almost make it seem cosy.

Luka is confident in the skills of the surgeon and the tattoo artist. They’ll be nothing like the people who cut into his skin at that dingy clinic he picked as a kid.

Luka sits down and undoes his cover. The shallow cut he received from the snapped cover after the game against CSKA has completely healed.

The guy who is examining him peers closely at the skin around Luka’s tattoo, prods it with a gloved finger, makes a few thoughtful noises.

Luka’s stomach is tied into knots while he waits to hear the verdict.

“All right, let’s do this,” the guy finally says.

Luka lets out a breath he’s been holding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think we don’t even need to get all the ink removed. Scars are tricky, man. Hey, what would you say if we kept some of the lines? To make life easier for us. And for you, of course.”

“Um. Okay. Which lines are you keeping?”

The guy pulls off his gloves with a noisy snap. “The first letter looks solid.” He picks up a notebook and with a few quick strokes of the pen he writes the two names on top of each other, showing Luka how he’ll make the lines align. “You cool with that?”

Luka nods. He isn’t able to say anything.

It’s done. It’s finally done. Luka is staring at the dark ceiling of his house in Zagreb, doing his best to ignore the sore and slightly swollen skin on his wrist. He is recalling every little detail about the clinic when he is suddenly hit by the realization how close to Christmas it is. It’s not even five in the afternoon and the sun has already set and he can see the whole town light up in thousands of lights.

Luka has made no plans to spend the holidays here this year so the house is cold and uninviting, no Christmas decorations in sight. In a moment of weakness, Luka reaches for his phone and dials his mother’s number.

Luka lets the phone ring many times before he loses his nerves and hangs up.

His mother doesn’t call him back.

It’s for the best, Luka tries to convince himself. He didn’t ‘come to his senses’ anyway. At least not in the way his mother would approve of.

Luka glances down at his wrist, where the tattoo of his soulmate’s name is hiding underneath the bandage. It’s not a soulmark. But it’s as close as it can get.

Luka bites his lip and tries to distract himself by watching silly Christmas films on the TV. The TV still has the settings switched to Spanish, the way Lucas had changed them last month. Luka doesn’t have the heart to change it back anyway.

The distraction technique doesn’t really work. The mattress is lumpy because Luka never got around to getting a new one so he’s tossing restlessly and soon he feels like the walls are closing in on him so he gets dressed again and walks out into the streets.

He takes a walk to Zrinjevac, where the Christmas lights are already light and people are enjoying the Christmas market. Someone even wrapped the Christmas lights around the fountain.

Between a winter jacket, a scarf and a beanie, no one seems to pay him much mind and he disappears within the anonymous crowd. He circles from the fountain to the ice park and then heads back north, wandering aimlessly and letting the crowded streets take him wherever they please. At the corner next to the Konzum store is a Tisak kiosk where Luka buys the newspaper his father always used to read.

Some twenty minutes later, he’s joining the Fuliranje mayhem at Strossmayer Square and indulging himself with kroštule so sweet the pastry barely tastes of anything else but powdered sugar. There is live music and people have turned the square into an improvised dance floor. Luka listens for a while as he idly strolls past the vendors and food stalls, veering clear of the flock of dancing people. Other people are snacking on čvarci and sipping heated rakija and Luka even spots a stall selling veal burgers. It’s called El Toro and before he knows it, Luka is whipping out his phone and taking a snap.

Are Croatian burgers to be trusted? It’s not until he sends the picture to Sergio that he remembers the difference in the time zones between Zagreb and Kashima, where Real are getting ready for their semi-final match.

Why don’t you find out? I dare you, Sergio sends back almost immediately. Luka does the mental math; it must be five or six in the morning in Japan. If Sergio is already up, then it must be because of his morning run.

While Luka is waiting for the queue to move up so he can place his order, Sergio adds, I double dog dare you.

I’m on it, Luka sends back.

The burger is actually good, the vegetable is crispy and the generous slice of meat is tender, juicy and spicy.

Impatient as ever, Sergio inquires a few minutes later, So?

You’d love this shit. Sergio would. Not just the burger but also the atmosphere of the Fuliranje, the music and the sense of quickly approaching Christmas. Luka grimaces, mood going sour all of the sudden. People around him continue on their merry way but for Luka the smell of food gets almost nauseating. The music band from before is replaced by a DJ and more people start dancing. Luka feels disconnected from all of it.

Next time, ok? When I’m not busy running for my deer life. The odd statement is followed by a picture of a jogging track, sunrise glistening on the path in front of Sergio and a curious deer peeking its head out of the bushes. The title of the file reads, oh_deer.

Deal, Luka sends and heads back home, no longer feeling festive.

This year, the holidays are going to suck.

On the plane to back Madrid, Luka listens to the audiobook of that confusing story again, hoping the parallel timelines will make more sense on a second hearing. Almost forty minutes in, the story still isn’t making much sense but Luka leaves it playing, the melodic patterns of Spanish soothingly familiar in his ears. It’s better than to be left alone with his thoughts.

The stench of the stale airplane air clings to his skin and once he’s back home he takes a long shower. There’s no need to hurry, he isn’t due for a check-up with the team until tomorrow morning. He takes his time washing his hair and scrubbing his body, watchful of his new tattoo.

Getting the cover wet is always an unpleasant experience and when he doesn’t have to go through it, when there are no cameras or teammates around, Luka likes to take it off before stepping into a shower.

His eyes keep catching on the new tattoo. A dark swirl of a name on his wrist when he reaches for the shampoo, a smudge he catches the sight of out of the corner of his eye as he’s combing through his hair.

Then he’s finally dry and clean and sitting in the living room with his left hand propped on the coffee table. He’s almost impatient as he peels off the adhesive derm from the tattoo.

He doesn’t put the cover back on, letting the tattoo heal. He applies the balm that’s supposed to prevent any scabbing and keep in as much pigment as possible.

The letters are darker than he was used to seeing in Spomenka’s name. The name is shorter. The sight of the tattoo startles him each time. It’s funny, considering it is the name that belongs there.

It looks beautiful.

It looks so close to how he remembers his soulmark used to look that if Luka didn’t know it’s not an actual soulmark, he could never tell. In a couple of weeks, the wound will be completely healed. The wound to Luka’s soul, however, will never heal. He can still feel the guilt, the remorse and the cold sense of dread when he thinks about the soulbond he had so readily broken as a kid. The soulbond isn’t there. He can’t feel the connection to his soulmate. And yet, he can’t imagine his life without Sergio.

He can’t take back what he did but Luka is certain he is on the right path now.

He touches the abused skin around the new mark, gently feeling the roughness of the scar before he dares to gently run his fingers over the tattoo. The skin there doesn’t feel any different but it doesn’t stop Luka from touching it with almost the same disbelief as the first day the soulmark had appeared on his skin.

Sergio.

Only this time, he chose it.

Chapter Text

The following day, Real returns victorious from Japan and Luka is cleared to play in the upcoming final against Al Ain. He leaves the doctor’s office in a good mood and he’s about to grab lunch at the team’s canteen when his phone starts ringing.

“I didn’t tell them!” Sergio blurts out without a premise when Luka picks up.

“What?”

“Luka I swear, I didn’t tell them. I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Sergio sounds frantic, his words are so quick they almost merge together and Luka has to really focus to make sense of the sentence. “I know I fucked up before but that was just between you and me. You have to know I’d never betray you like that. I wouldn’t!”

“What are you talking about?”

Luka can practically hear Sergio frowning into the phone. “Haven’t you seen the news?”

“Um. No.” Immediately, the sense of dread settles in Luka’s stomach, heavy as lead. These past few days he’d been in a little bubble of his own world, so focused on making the decision to get Sergio’s name placed back where it belonged on his wrist that he hardly paid the news any mind.

“Oh, Lukita,” Sergio says, “Go read it, I’ll wait.”

Luka is so shaken up that he ends the call automatically the moment he pulls the phone away from his ear. His phone has alerts all over the place, Luka only sees them now as he’s clicking on the news.

Oh, shit, runs through Luka’s mind as he sees it.

There is a picture from a pitch, of Luka heavily leaning into Sergio, being helped by his captain. It looks more intimate than it was.

It’s reposted everywhere and Luka frantically clicks through several sites to see if there is any shot from some other angle that would be more telling but there’s just that one picture that Marca shared with the world.

Him and Sergio, huddled close together. Sergio has his arm around Luka’s smaller frame, supporting him as they exit the pitch. Luka’s face is twisted in a grimace and his eyes are closed but Sergio is watching him with worry plain on his face.

For a moment Luka’s heart lurches and he wonders what rumours the media have decided to circle this time but then he takes a better look at the picture and freezes.

It’s bad.

It’s really bad.

The picture is not about him and Sergio. It’s actually a picture of Luka’s wrist.

It’s from the game against Moscow, after Luka’s cover snapped in two and revealed the name beneath. Mercifully, the picture was taken from a distance and between Luka gripping his bloodied wrist and Sergio shielding him from sight, there is no way the thin scar beneath the tattoo would be visible to anyone.

The name, however, is another story.

Luka doesn’t have it anymore but there it is, captured in a picture that will haunt Luka forever. The name is glaring at him from the screen of his phone, dark letters visible on the skin. The caption beneath the picture reads, Whom is Modrić hiding?

Luka has never seen a picture of himself with a tattoo of the fake soulmak showing. There hasn’t been any taken, he’s always been very careful not to let anyone see Spomenka’s name. But someone has captured the moment on the pitch and Luka’s lies are catching up with him in a way he never considered possible. Especially not now that he already took steps necessary to redeem his past mistakes.

Luka thought he got rid of Spomenka once and for all at that clinic in Zagreb but here it is again, mocking him, serving as a reminder. Luka skims the article over, eyes catching on the part where a reliable source close to the player confirmed the suspicions.

He dials Sergio’s number again and the phone barely manages to send out the dial tone before Sergio is answering. “Luka. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“At the canteen, getting lunch.” He’s not hungry anymore, though.

“I’ve just dealt with all the paperwork after we got back. I’ll be there in a minute. Hold on, okay?”

Soon after he ends the call, Luka hears someone’s hurried footsteps in the hallway behind him and when he turns to look, it’s Marce.

“What the hell is this?” Marce asks, waving a printed issue of Marca in front of Luka’s face.

Luka instantly recognizes the picture Marce is pointing at. “I don’t know! Someone must have told them.”

Marce clucks his tongue. “Sergio wouldn’t–”

“I know, Marcelo,” Luka interrupts. “He might be reckless but he’s loyal to a fault,” he says.

Marce would have surely said something more about it but at that time, Sergio finds them and he wastes no time pulling Luka in a hug. “There you are. Are you okay?”

“Uh. Yes,” Luka manages once he can breathe again. “But they saw my wrist and–”

“Not here,” Sergio admonishes, casting a quick glance around them, although there is no one else beside the three of them.

“Right,” Luka sighs. “Guess I’m going back to my place.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marce says. “Imagine the army of reporters wanting to get your statement on this.” He shakes the newspaper again.

Sergio nods. “My place is it then.” He turns to Marce. “Think you could drive us in your car? We’ll attract less attention that way.”

Luka isn’t sure why exactly he is so nervous but he is. His hands are shaking and he has hard time meeting Sergio’s eyes.

“Can I get you anything?” Luka asks Marce, though this is not his house and he probably shouldn’t be offering Sergio’s stuff like that but Marce doesn’t question the offer, just shakes his head.

“Suit yourself.” Luka rummages around the cabinets until he finds a chocolate bar. It’s one of those days that simply requires the comfort the chocolate provides. Sergio doesn’t make any remark about the chocolate bar, which only cements the shittiness of the situation. Besides, if Sergio really hated the chocolate bars as much as he always claims, he’d hardly keep them stashed around the house.

Luka bites into the chocolate and lets it melt on his tongue, happy for the excuse not to have to initiate the conversation about the picture of his so-called soulmark.

Sergio is pacing back and forth, restlessly peeking out of the windows even though there’s no one stalking outside of his house and they managed to get away from Real’s facilities without anyone spotting them.

Finally, Marce clears his throat. “Will someone explain to me what the hell is going on?” he throws the newspaper with the proof of Luka’s lies on the counter next to where Luka is leaning against it.

“They took a picture of something that no one was supposed to see,” Sergio says irritably.

“Is that so?” Marce drawls.

Luka takes another bite of the chocolate and lets it melt in his mouth. Slowly.

“What do you think, genius?” Sergio says, stomping back to the window only to reach it, turn around and go back again.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if someone meant for them to see the fake mark,” Marce says, facing Luka and raising his eyebrow imploringly.

Luka almost chokes on the bit of chocolate that he was eating, eyes watering as he desperately tries to gulp it down and get air into his lungs again.

Sergio stops pacing. “What?”

“Oh, c’mon, isn’t it obvious?” Marce is still watching Luka like a hawk. “You two want to keep things private – so a fake mark that would send everyone on a wild goose chase? A solution only Luka could come up with.”

Luka’s shoulders sag in relief. Marce doesn’t know shit about Luka getting his soulmark removed. And he’s definitely wrong about Luka wanting anyone to see it.

“It’s not a fake mark,” Sergio says slowly and it’s a good thing he does because Luka couldn’t get such blatant lie past his lips right now.

Marce makes a frustrated noise and he throws his hands up in the air. “You two just need to stop hiding, it’s getting ridiculous. Why don’t you just tell the press you two are soulmates?”

Again, it’s Sergio who responds, words addressed to Marce but his eyes are seeping into Luka’s. “That’s because we’re not.”

“What the fuck you mean you’re not? You told me–”

Sergio is quick to talk over Marce. “I’m not talking about me, it’s Luka’s mark that doesn’t match.”

Marce’s eyes narrow. “This! This bullshit right now? It’s insulting. Okay, so you don’t want the press to know, that’s your choice. But you’ve been lying to the team and your friends and I just don’t get it. Save your lies for the media but be honest with me. And the team. Why don’t you tell us what we already know about the two of you?”

“Marcelo,” Luka says. “We really aren’t bonded.”

“All of this,” Marce furiously gestures back and forth from Luka to Sergio, “and you think we don’t know you have a bond between you?”

Luka doesn’t know what to say to that. He just shrugs.

Marce shoves at Luka. “How can you be so blind? So heartless? Don’t you see what he’s–”

“That’s enough,” Sergio says, reaching between Luka and Marce and pulling Marce away.

“Let go of me,” Marce protests as he twists away from Sergio. He turns back to glare at Luka. “Have you even thought about how Sergio feels about keeping this secret? Clearly this was your choice, not his.”

“I haven’t thought about it,” Luka admits meekly.

For a moment Marce looks taken aback by Luka’s admission and then the anger is back in full force. “You should have, you cold-hearted bastard.”

“Marcelo,” Sergio says sharply and this time his grip on Marce is firm and unyielding and Marcelo gets escorted out of the house.

Luka leans back against the counter again, pushing the rest of the uneaten chocolate bar away from him. He isn’t looking at anything in particular, too lost in his thoughts to register the world around him. He startles when Sergio clears his throat.

There is something calculating in Sergio’s eyes but it disappears sooner than Luka could figure out what it means.

“You okay?”

Luka hides his face in his palms. “Not really,” he mumbles.

“Come here,” Sergio says, tugging at Luka’s elbow until he lowers his hands, and then pulling Luka into a hug. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Luka sighs but he doesn’t struggle against Sergio’s embrace. “Marcelo thinks we’re secretly soulmates and are lying about our relationship to him.”

“That might be my fault,” Sergio admits, squeezing his arms around Luka.

Luka leans his head into Sergio’s chest. “My fault,” he insists.

“I might have told him things that were… misleading.”

“I can see how he’d get that idea regardless of what you’ve told him,” Luka says. Sergio’s heart is beating close to where Luka’s ear is rested. It’s too fast to be really soothing. “I know you’d never tell anyone about Spomenka, let alone the press,” he reassures Sergio.

“Yeah, it’s what I wanted you to know. When we got back and I saw the article–”

“I know. It’s really not your fault.”

Sergio looks like he’s still convinced it very much is his fault but he seems willing to let it go for now. “It’s not that bad, though, is it?” He says carefully. “I know it’s none of their business but now that people know about Spomenka, it could be easier for you to actually find her.”

Luka barely suppresses a shiver when Sergio says the name. “But I’m not looking for her.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” Luka says firmly. Then, silently, he adds, I don’t even have the name on my wrist anymore.

“Ah,” Sergio responds and Luka can’t help but think that he sounds really pleased about it. “Alright.”

Sergio squeezes his arms around Luka and doesn’t let go. Luka takes a little comfort in that, savouring the moment.

Chapter Text

“You owe me.”

Luka blearily pulls the phone away from his face, squints his eyes to make sure the caller’s ID really says ‘Ivan’ and then he mutters around a yawn, “What?”

“You owe me. Big time, Luka.”

Luka sits up on the bed and runs a hand through his hair, probably making even bigger mess of it. “What for?”

“For covering for you, you miserable idiot.”

“Well, thanks for whatever it was. Couldn’t you wait to brag till some more reasonable hour?” Luka glances around the room, realizing it’s already daylight outside. He didn’t remember to draw the curtains – he never does – and the sunshine is pouring in through the window.

“It’s almost noon, you big oaf,” Ivan says, amusement clear in his voice. “Where are you anyway? I’ve been ringing the doorbell for five minutes and you aren’t answering.”

“Oh.” Luka rubs at his eyes. “Um. I’m at Sergio’s place.”

Ivan scoffs. “At Sergio’s! Of course you are. Where else would you be?”

“Yeah, well…” It’s too early after being woken up for Luka to come up with any reasonable explanation and besides, he doesn’t need to make any excuses for Ivan. “I’m at Sergio’s, yes.”

“Then get your ass out of the bed and get moving because you’re buying me lunch. We can meet downtown.”

“I’m buying you lunch? What the hell?” Luka asks, all confused.

“I lied to the press for you! They came after me – me! And they asked me about my good pal Luka’s soulmate so yes, of course I told them my good pal’s soulmate is Ljubinka, I know all about it, right? I know everything about his soulmate, as any good friend should, right, Luka?”

“You spoke to the people from Marca,” Luka realizes, his brain slow to shake the sleepy haze surrounding his thoughts.

“You bet I did. Consider it my Christmas gift for you!”

Luka scoots back against the headboard of the bed and leans back. His stomach is clenched nervously but Ivan sounds cheerful – he’d hardly be making quips if there was something Luka should be worried about. “What… what did they ask about?”

“I didn’t spent much time talking to them,” Ivan explains. “I just confirmed what they already knew about Zrinka and moved on.”

“You didn’t tell them anything else?” Luka asks but it’s a silly question because if Ivan said anything that would have tipped them off, it would have been already printed in the article.

“It’s not like I know much more about Darinka, do I?” Ivan says in a tone that makes it clear he is rolling his eyes at Luka through the phone.

“That’s not even the right name,” Luka points out.

“It’s not, is it?” Ivan replies and the silence that follows is strangely charged but Luka doesn’t know what to say and eventually, Ivan sighs and says, “Oh wait, I know, it’s Jadranka, right?” Luka knows Ivan is just teasing but something in Ivan’s tone is a bit sharp.

“Yeah, something like that,” Luka mutters. “You’re really here in Madrid?”

“Sure I am! And I am hungry and you owe me lunch.”

“We have a Christmas charity thing at the hospital,” Luka says, remembering. He’s almost forgotten because he’s doing his best to forget everything even vaguely Christmas-related. He’s just not in the spirit this year because he’s certain Christmas spent alone in Madrid is going to be the most miserable Christmas he’s ever had.

“Right now? You said you’re still in bed.”

“We have that later in the evening,” Luka admits.

“Brilliant! I’m sure you can squeeze me in.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re impossible.”

Ivan makes a sympathetic sound. “I am, aren’t I?” He waits for Luka to chuckle before he continues, “I’ll wait for you at the usual place. Don’t be too late, okay? And Luka?”

“What?”

“Tell Sergio I said Merry Christmas.”

Soon after Luka hangs up, there are steps on the staircase followed by a knock on the door and then Sergio pokes his head in. “I heard you talking,” he says.

“Yeah, Ivan called me.”

Sergio hums and steps inside of the room, balancing a tray with two plates, a few bowls and two tall glasses. He carefully sets everything down on the bed.

“Is that breakfast?” Luka asks, incredulous, as he sniffs the air. “Did you make omelettes?”

“Nothing is on fire,” Sergio responds, defensive. “I just thought – you skipped lunch and barely touched dinner so I figured you might like it. I swear it’s edible. It’s just some scrambled eggs.”

“That’s…” Thoughtful. Charming. Sweet. “Nice,” Luka settles for.

Sergio visibly perks up and sits cross-legged on the bed next to Luka, reaching for a fork and his own plate, not bothering with a knife as he gathers a forkful of the eggs. “Enjoy,” he says.

“Thanks.” Luka can’t possibly turn such breakfast down. Not when Sergio put so much effort into it, now when the food actually smells pretty appetizing. He’ll just order a coffee later and listen to Ivan lecturing him about proper nutrition. He offers Sergio a small smile and shoots a text to Ivan. I might be a bit late.

Lightning fast, Ivan responds, Pls, no details!!!

Luka doesn’t ponder the weird reply and instead he tucks in into his breakfast. The eggs are only burnt a little.

“Smile!” Dani shouts, throwing his arm around Luka’s shoulders at the same time that Lucas slides a brown headband donned with deer antlers into Luka’s hair. Toni whips out his phone and takes a picture before Luka processes any of this.

“Awesome,” Lucas says and plucks the headband away before Luka could toss it out of the bus.

“Fuck off,” Luka grumbles half-heartedly.

“Ah, come on, it’s almost Christmas,” Dani protests as he peels himself away from Luka and gives him a friendly pat on his back. Dani is wearing a wig with long golden hair and he has a pair of fluffy white wings strapped to his back. He’s refusing to take them off, although they’ve already done their part for the kids at the hospital and now they’re headed back to Real’s facilities where no one will ask for more pictures and where Luka can stop pretending to be into the whole Christmas madness.

“Hah. Not yet it’s not,” Luka says.

“Spoilsport,” Dani says when he peers at Luka’s picture in Toni’s phone. “You ruin everything.”

“I do, don’t I?”

“It’s perfect, actually,” Lucas counters and grabs Toni’s phone. “I’m sending it to everyone. Hashtag… ugh. Any suggestions?”

“Krampus,” Toni says flatly, earning a delighted squeal from Lucas.

“I knew I keep you around for a good reason,” Lucas says, furiously typing into Toni’s phone.

A little while later, Luka hears Sergio snort with laughter several rows back in the bus. When Luka turns, Sergio is already looking his way, grinning like a lunatic, wiggling his phone in one hand. Luka folds his arms and turns back in his seat, which only makes Sergio laugh harder.

“I hate you all,” Luka informs the gang. “Go bother someone else. Vini looks like he’s fast asleep,” he suggests helpfully.

The guys mercifully move on to their next victim but Luka still isn’t left alone because Gareth is looking at him curiously from the other seat.

“What?” Luka asks curtly.

“Something wrong with the Christmas cheer?”

“I’m just not feeling it this year,” Luka mutters.

Gareth nods in mock understanding and adds in a creaky voice, “Bah, humbug.”

Luka grabs his scarf and tosses it at Gareth and doesn’t speak another word to him for the rest of the short trip across the city.

Chapter Text

The last game of the year, the final against Al Ain, takes place in Abu Dhabi.

Between the temperatures that keep climbing above 25°C and the hot, dusty air, there is little to remind them that the New Year is just around the corner. No festive decorations in sight, no stupid Christmas songs haunting Luka’s every step. He is immensely grateful for that.

Usually, the guys from the team would have their families invited for the last game of the season and everyone would be leaving Madrid to spend the winter break together with their loved ones. Luka would have no one showing up and it’s not like he’d be expected anywhere for Christmas. The team would notice and ask unpleasant questions or worse, offer their sympathies.

As it is, no one is asking Luka any questions and no one is making plans to throw a Christmas party after the game. There will be one in January when they’re back in Madrid and when it’s really Christmas but right now all that’s on their minds is winning the game. Luka is very pleased with that turn of the events.

He’s even more pleased with the game because he scores not even fifteen minutes into the game, receiving Benze’s swift pass and opening the score. Sergio collects his yellow at the verge of a half-time but in the second Marcos improves their lead and Sergio gets in a header off Luka’s corner kick. It’s a practised move but it’s so instinctual, glancing up, checking Sergio’s position and calculating the distance that Luka doesn’t have to think about it at all. Luka barely shares a glance with Sergio before he is sending a curving ball right to him. Sergio directs it into the net with a jerk of his head and Real is flying.

The game finishes with Al Ain’s own goal and Real wins 4–1.

It’s a wonderful, exuberant feeling. Everyone is grinning, all smiles and jokes when they’re presented with the trophy. Even Isco looks like he’s enjoying the celebrations, though Solari didn’t play him and Isco spent the match sulking by the sideline.

Luka is expecting the reporters to have some questions so it’s hardly a surprise when they swarm him before he has the chance to leave the pitch. Sergio thumps him on his back as he walks past, smile wide and eyes sparkling when they catch Luka’s. The captain’s pleased, approving nod makes something warm curl in Luka’s chest as he returns the smile.

The first reporter asks a question and Luka turns to him, still overjoyed, the elation hot in his bloodstream.

It takes him a long moment to figure out what the reporter is actually saying. At first he thinks it’s some Spanish word he doesn’t know the meaning of but then he realizes it’s the unfortunate mangling of the Croatian pronunciation. That and the accent got him frowning and wondering if he heard it wrong.

He tilts his head, leans a little closer to hear the reporter better, hair failing to his face. The reporter is about to repeat his question when they’re interrupted by Benze. The music is already pouring from the locker room and Benze presses a quick peck to Luka’s cheek and makes a triumphant gesture for the cameras as he hurries inside, singling along.

Luka tucks the unruly strand of hair behind his ear, waits until Benze with his caterwauling is out earshot and asks the reporter to ask his question again.

“Is Spomenka here to share this moment of triumph with you?”

The nature of the question takes Luka aback. He’s not ready for it now. Sure, he has the correct answers drilled but he didn’t expect to need them now. He doesn’t know why are they asking about his private life when Real has just won the trophy. They should be asking about the game, trying to get his comment on the play, on that backheel pass to Benze that harmlessly bounced off Al Ain’s defence, that first half control in the midfield or even that reprimand he got.

“No, not… no,” Luka stammers and the reporters all turn their faces to him, eager to hear his answer. Luka’s mood drops, his smile turning forced.

The first reporter is not satisfied and he pounces again. “So she’s waiting for you in Madrid?”

‘Acknowledge the question, don’t answer it and divert their attention,’ Luka hears Sergio’s voice advising in his mind but it’s no use. It’s no use because he can feel the anger rising, sharp and uncontrollable.

“She’s not in Madrid,” Luka grits through his teeth. She’s not anywhere. She’s not real. I made her up so that I can pretend to be normal and play football and that apparently includes standing here right now, answering your stupid questions.

Another reporter nods in understanding and Luka turns to her, hoping the topic is over and they can now get to the point. But he’s wrong. He’s very wrong. The reporters are hungry for any details he’s willing to give them about Spomenka and since he’s not providing, they try connecting the dots by themselves. Luka probably should have let the PR talk him into that press conference they suggested after that unfortunate picture of Luka’s bloodied wrist got printed in Marca.

The reporter is still nodding her head, “Naturally, she’s waiting for you in Zagreb so the two of you can finally spend some time together.”

“I won’t be in Croatia for the holidays at all this year,” Luka says before he can stop himself. He manages not to wince at the consequent onslaught of questions but he’s quickly losing his patience with the reporters. Not a single question about the game, not a single acknowledgement of Real’s triumph.

Luka is about to lose his temper and start shouting at them when, mercifully, Gareth notices his distress. He sees the tight smile and the storm in Luka’s eyes or the tense line of his shoulders or something that tips him off, because in the next moment, Gareth is taking long strides right to where Luka is facing the reporters.

Gareth loudly congratulates Luka on his goal, talking over everybody else, effectively crashing the interview. Then he wraps his arms around Luka and basically drags him away from the reporters with no more than a charming smile and a brief apology for stealing Luka away.

Luka gladly lets it happen.

Shortly after, they board the plane back to Mardid. Luka has hard time pretending to be in a good mood, especially once some Christmas enthusiast switches the music to Christmas carols two hours into the flight.

They’re playing the highlights from the match on the TV, together with the interviews.

Luka is sulking in a window seat, watching what little is to be seen outside of the window when Sergio finds him and settles in the seat next to Luka.

“You look like hell.”

“It’s been a long day,” Luka responds.

Sergio slings his arm around Luka and pinches his side, making Luka swat the arm away as he tries to scoot away. “Forget about them, Lukita. They were just trying to get their scoop.”

“You heard what they were asking about, right?”

“Yeah. But we won, you did well and now we’ve got a Christmas break. That means no getting up early for the morning training, I’m sure you’ll appreciate that.” Luka manages a small smile that only makes Sergio groan. “Drop that smile, it gives me the creeps.”

“It’s just… I should have handled it better,” Luka admits.

“You didn’t say anything wrong,” Sergio dismisses. “Well, there was this one weird thing.”

“What was it?” Luka asks, glancing at Sergio.

Sergio lets go of him and turns in his seat to face Luka. “Is it true? You’re not flying back home for Christmas?”

“I’m not,” Luka grumbles and when he sees Sergio opening his mouth, he sharply adds, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Uh, okay?” Sergio says though it’s clear from his expression that he really wants to talk about it. “Do you want another beer?”

“Sure,” Luka nods and considers the discussion over.

The celebrations dwindle down and most of the team crashes, feeling the exhaustion once the adrenalin drops. The rest of the almost-eight-hour-long flight is uneventful as they catch some sleep before the flight arrives in Madrid as scheduled. Then the bus brings them back to Madrid’s facilities and Luka makes sure to stick with Gareth once again, hoping Sergio will keep his prodding questions to himself.

Sergio brings it up again, though. Just when Luka is about to take his leave, sure he got away with the evasive reply, Sergio materializes in front of him with his arms crossed and a determined expression on his face. Luka knows better than to argue with Sergio when he gets like this.

He lets his bags drop to the floor and mirrors Sergio’s stance. “What?” If he’s being honest with himself, Luka is impressed Sergio managed to wait this long.

“You really aren’t going back to Croatia for the holidays?”

Luka wishes he had the energy to do anything but shake his head. “I already told you. I’m staying in Madrid.”

“Alone?”

Luka holds his chin up challengingly, eyes narrowing. “Yes. You’ve got a problem with that?”

“Yeah, actually, I do. Luka that’s… that’s just not right.”

Luka scoffs. “Mother sure as hell doesn’t want me in Zagreb.”

“But you can’t stay here alone for Christmas.”

“Watch me,” Luka says.

“Yeah, no. You’re coming with me,” Sergio decides, dragging Luka to the parking lot, barely giving him enough time to grab his bags. He’s not listening to Luka’s protests.

Chapter Text

Sergio’s place is full of people. The house is brightly lit and there is laughter and music and sweet smell lingering in the air.

Luka pauses in the entryway to take it all in. He should have realized sooner that Sergio’s family would be already there, waiting for Sergio to join them.

Sergio nudges Luka inside. “We do this every year,” he explains as he shrugs off his jacket. “They usually come to see the last La Liga match of the year and we all celebrate the holidays together in Madrid.”

“I thought you didn’t celebrate until January,” Luka says.

“Yeah, of course. We do this for the kids, mostly. It’s festive or whatever. It’s nice to have the extended family together and there is enough celebrating going on in Madrid to keep the kids happy. So we have this get-together in December and then in January everyone can celebrate at home with just their closest family, you know?”

“Oh, yes,” Luka says as he follows Sergio into the house. “Sounds nice.”

“I’m not here for the fake Christmas anyway, I’m here for the people.”

Sergio knocks on the doorframe to his own living room as they enter and it’s Sergio’s mum who notices them first, letting out a delighted shriek as she crosses the room to get to them.

Luka’s throat constricts and he barely manages to croak out his greetings when Sergio’s mum engulfs both him and Sergio in a warm embrace. She somehow manages not to spill the drink she’s holding in her hand, even when Sergio sways them from side to side.

“You’re finally here! We’ve been waiting for you,” she exclaims happily before launching into a complaint about overcrowded streets and traffic jams. Halfway through her rant she suddenly switches into an anecdote about one of her cousins’ dogs climbing into the house through the roof window to get out of the cold. It’s such an abrupt change of the topic that Luka’s head is spinning.

Sergio’s mum keeps up a steady chatter about random things for the next few minutes and Sergio only manages brief hums of yes or no while she takes breaks for breath. Luka remembers her being chatty but this is a whole new level. Sergio doesn’t even bat an eye. Finally, she says, “Sergio, go say hi to Rene, he’s been asking about you.”

Sergio grins, kisses his mum again and goes to greet his other relatives. Luka has never felt more like he’s intruding in this house than right now.

Sergio’s mum takes a slow sip of her drink and then slides to Luka’s side and nudges him until he offers her his arm. She leans into him, smiling. “Luka, it’s been too long. How have you been all this time?”

Sergio’s mum keeps chattering as she steers them through the house to the kitchen. It takes them a while to reach it because people keep stopping them and greeting Luka (everyone), trying to crush Luka’s hand with their firm grip (Sergio’s dad) and teasing him (Sergio’s siblings). In the kitchen, there are a bunch of kids, arguing about cookie cutters and there is a dough on the counter, which one of the kids keeps poking curiously. There are maybe four or five of the kids, Luka isn’t sure because they keep moving too fast. A girl too young to be their mother but apparently old enough to be tossing back a glass of red wine is leaning against the fridge. She perks up when they enter.

“Thank God, you’re here,” she says. “Your turn now. Have fun.” She sets her empty glass on the counter and heads out of the kitchen, pausing just long enough to drop two quick kisses to Luka’s cheeks. “Hi, Luka.”

“Hey,” Luka says, trying and failing to place her before concluding that he’s never met the girl before.

“Be a darling and get the dough, Luka,” Sergio’s mum says as she hands one of the kids a rolling pin and some flour. She doesn’t introduce him to the kids – but she didn’t introduce him to anyone else in the house either.

A moment later the table – as well as the floor – is dusted with white flour and the dough is being worked into a nice flat shape. It has a peculiar, familiar smell but Luka can’t tell from the colour alone what kind of a dough it is. The kids quickly start cutting out the dough and filling the trays.

“I’m Rosa,” says one of the youngest girls as she pulls up a chair to the table near where Luka is standing. “I’m almost seven.”

“Hi Rosa, I’m Luka,” he says, accepting her dough-covered hand and making her giggle.

“I know who you are, silly,” she says, turning her attention back to the cookie cutters. She inspects them closely before selecting one shaped like a snowflake. Luka didn’t know there were any cookie cutters in Sergio’s kitchen and he wonders if someone brought them over specially for today.

“Oh, of course you do. Silly me.”

Rosa hums in agreement. “Uncle Sergio always talks about you. I know everything! Like right now we’re making you feel better by baking the cookies.”

“Rosa!” Sergio’s mum admonishes but she’s laughing into her glass again.

“What? Did it work? Are you feeling better?” Rosa asks him, giving him a stern look as if she could tell if there was something wrong with him by squinting hard enough.

“Cookies always help,” Luka tells her solemnly and she nods, pleased, jumps off her chair and joins the rest of the kids who are now playing some game on the floor. Judging from all the yelling and shoving, they’re having hard time agreeing on the rules.

“The dough is already suspiciously crumbly,” says Sergio’s mum as she puts the trays in the oven. “So I have no idea how they’ll turn out but the kids had fun helping with the dough and everything. I thought you might like them. I guess they’re nothing like your mum’s but at least we’ve had fun, didn’t we?” She raises her voice at the end a bit, addressing the kids. Rosa agrees enthusiastically, one of the other kids grumbles something about the only fun part being eating the cookies which they haven’t done yet. The rest of them just ignore Sergio’s mum in favour of arguing about the game.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have put that much clove in it,” Sergio’s mum says.

Luka finally places the smell. Paprenjak.

“You remembered that? About the pepper cookies?” He asks.

Sergio’s mum reaches out to pat his shoulder. “You told me not all that long ago, Luka. My memory is not that bad.”

Luka fights down the blush. He talked about this tradition to Sergio’s mum when Sergio was ill and they ran into each other in this very kitchen. It seems like such a long time ago. “I didn’t mean–”

“Oh god, let him breathe,” Sergio says, appearing out of nowhere.

“We were just talking,” Sergio’s mum says.

“Just talking, I can imagine. Hey, Lukita, come here for a second,” Sergio says as he grabs Luka’s hand and drags him up the stairs. Sergio leads them into his room and shuts the door before finally letting go of Luka’s arm in favour of rummaging through a chest of drawers.

“What’s up?” Luka asks, curious.

“You’ll see, you’ll see. How’s been the fam? Sorry about my mum.”

“She’s awesome,” Luka says and Sergio spares him a brief glance over his shoulder before he goes back to searching for god knows what.

“So you’re having fun?”

Being at Sergio’s for what Sergio calls ‘the fake Christmas’ is both absolutely charming and absolutely awful at the same time. The season’s madness is everywhere and Luka is really not at least enthusiastic about it this year. It’s sweet to see Sergio interact with his family and it’s nice to actually meet all the people Sergio never stops talking about. But at the same time, it makes Luka terribly homesick. He wishes he was with his sisters, he wishes he was back home, the way it was last year.

“Yeah,” he answers anyway.

“Ah, here it is,” Sergio says, turning to Luka with a small parcel in his hands. The wrapping paper is light brown and has neat print of small blue Christmas trees all over. It’s held together with a brown string and judging from how sloppy it all looks, Sergio wrapped it himself.

“What the hell is that?”

Sergio rolls his eyes at him. “A bomb, what do you think it is?”

“You said you guys don’t exchange gifts till January,” Luka reminds him.

“We don’t. But you do,” Sergio says simply, completely unaware how he’s making Luka’s throat tighten. “Besides, it’s a little time-sensitive.” He pauses. “I swear it’s not actually a bomb.”

Luka doesn’t say anything, he just stares at the gift Sergio apparently wanted him to have in time for the Christmas Day because that’s when Luka would celebrate. It’s not like Luka is going to celebrate it this year but it’s such a sweet gesture. Luka stares some more.

“Here, take it,” Sergio says, waving the parcel.

Luka doesn’t reach for the gift, he wraps his arms around Sergio’s neck instead, hugging him closely and managing a faint, “Thank you.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” Sergio huffs, caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

It doesn’t matter what it is. It matters that Sergio remembered about the tradition, that Sergio wanted to give it to Luka before they part ways so that Luka would already have it in December though the team doesn’t have a Christmas party until January next year.

It’s awful nice of Sergio to have let Luka join them for the evening and to try to cheer Luka up even if it cut into Sergio’s family time. “Do I open it now or wait until–”

“Now.”

Luka carefully tears the paper open, scrunching it in one hand to reveal the insides of the parcel. He blinks at it, brows furrowed. “Sergio, what is this?”

“Ah, right. So, uh. I’ve bought us a little trip. And booked us the plane tickets.”

“To Italy?” Luka hears his voice climb up at least an octave.

“Yes. The Alps, Lukita. You’ve been so stressed lately. Won’t it be nice to get away from it all?”

“I’ve been stressed,” Luka repeats, “So you’ve booked us a holiday. In the Alps.”

“Uh. Yes?” Sergio says and makes it sound like a question though Luka is staring at the evidence in his very own hand.

He thinks of the lousy excuse of a gift that is hidden in the guest room next door, waiting to be given to Sergio in January and he feels ashamed. Sure, he wasn’t really in the mood for any Christmas shopping this year but this is Sergio. He should have put more effort into it. He’ll have to make it up to Sergio somehow. Though Luka is sure Sergio will love the horror game, Dead by Daylight, it is just not at the same levels as the Alps. The Alps. Damn.

Luka has been quiet for too long and Sergio starts getting all jittery. “You don’t have to go with me, I just thought… Well, you don’t have to go at all, of course, it’s just–”

“No,” Luka says quickly. “It’ll be great. It’s a great gift. I love it.”

“Really? So you’ll go with me?”

Luka is spared from having to respond to that by Sergio’s sister knocking on the door and demanding Sergio comes and mixes them some drink that Luka doesn’t catch the name of.

“Can’t mum do it?” Sergio sighs.

“No. Our mum is absolutely clueless.”

“All right, all right.”

“You feel like joining us?” She asks Luka and he waves his hand, dismissive. He’s still holding onto the wrapping paper.

“We’ll talk later,” Sergio says as he leaves the room. “Think about it, okay?”

Luka can’t stop thinking about it. He keeps picturing it, the snow-white hills, the crispy air, Sergio cursing just about anything and everything and complaining about his frostbitten ears or something. Sergio would surely make their little holiday fun and it would be great, to forget about everything for a little while and just enjoy Sergio’s company with no pressure consisting of game nights and training sessions and press conferences. But Sergio should be with his family, not spending his time trying to make Luka feel better. Though, if Sergio didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t have given Luka such gift.

Overwhelmed, Luka sneaks upstairs to fetch Sergio’s present from the guestroom he usually stays in. He figured it to be the best hiding place; plain in sight yet somewhere Sergio would hardly look for it. Luka has been using the spot to hide the presents for years and Sergio has yet to figure it out; he tends to snoop around Luka’s place, never finding any presents.

He isn’t sure what he wants to do because he sure as hell can’t give the horror game to Sergio now in return for such a generous and thoughtful gift. Luka’s gift is laughable and Sergio’s is… it’s too much. Luka enters the guest room, intending to hide the evidence of the lousy gift until he comes up with a better gift idea but it turns out someone is already in the guest room.

“Hi again, Rosa.”

“Oh, look Grandpa! Luka is here. Hi Luka!” Rosa waves at him excitedly. She’s got some colouring books all over the floor.

“I can see, Rosa, I can see. Hello, young man,” the grandfather says.

Luka returns the greeting. “Sorry about barging in,” he adds.

“Nonsense. I just needed somewhere a little quieter and here seemed like a good place. Hope you don’t mind. Sometimes it gets too much, you know?”

“Oh believe me, I know,” Luka says, nodding.

“Come a little closer, would you?” The grandfather says, trying to sit up a little in the armchair as he stretches his wrinkled hand towards Luka.

Luka steps closer to the old man.

“Luka, Luka,” the grandfather says, shaking Luka’s hand. “Sergio has told me about you two.”

“Nice to meet you,” Luka manages, freeing his hand from the surprisingly strong hold.

“Come sit with me,” the man says, gesturing to the other armchair.

Luka perches on the edge of the seat, back straight.

“There’s a boy,” the grandfather says. His pebble-eyes are sharp and his face wizened but he’s giving Luka a wide smile.

They talk a bit about the season Real has been having so far but then Rosa gets bored of her colouring books and perches on her grandfather’s lap.

Luka takes in the man’s pinched expression and shoos the girl to go sit elsewhere.

The grandfather fluffs his pillow and settles back in. He produces a small comb out his breast pocket and combs the white fluffs of his hair. He asks, “What are you doing, Rosa?”

Rosa has a little backpack with her, resting on the bed. It has a giant cat face on top and tiny red hearts all over. Rosa has her head all but shoved into it. She pulls out a book.

Luka reaches for it. “Want me to read for you for a bit?”

The grandfather looks up at him. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it, Rosa?”

Rosa scrunches up her face, thoughtful. She looks between her grandfather and Luka before settling on Luka. “Can you do the voices, too?”

Luka can’t do the voices but no one complains.

He keeps reading to Rosa. The grandfather falls into a doze early into the story but Rosa doesn’t mind, sitting on the bed next to Luka and peering down at the book as they read.

Finally, they reach the end of the story and Rosa hums, all thoughtful and quiet for a second as he hands her the book back and she puts it into her backpack. Then she draws in a breath and starts yammering about the story, asking so many questions (Why did Luka think the princess went down to the gardens that day? Why didn’t she ask for help? Why was the witch evil? Was it because she didn’t have a soulmark?) that Luka has no idea how to answer.

He shakes his head at her and answers most of her questions with ‘Why do you think she did?’ which seems to be enough for Rosa to launch into a tirade about her theories.

“Kid, you’re going to talk my ear off,” he informs her, flopping down on the bed. His hair flies everywhere and she giggles, reaching out and combing her fingers through his hair.

“Pretty,” she decides. Then she giggles, little fingers parting a section of his hair into three tiny strands that she then braids.

Luka squawks and lightly swats her hand away. She catches his hand and inspects it with the same focus she gave to the cookie cutters earlier. “I want to paint your nails,” she announces.

Luka glances at her determined little face and considers his options.

Her eyes narrow.

Luka sighs. “Do you even have any nail polish here?”

She reaches into her backpack again and Luka can’t find it in himself to tell her no.

“I like the blue one,” he decides.

Her smile is blinding and Luka takes comfort in that as he submits himself to her jabbing his nails with frankly too much nail polish.

She’s focusing on her work but it doesn’t stop her from explaining all about her friends back home and even about that one ‘idiot boy’ she hates because he’s being very mean to her. She doesn’t have her soulmark yet, her wrists are bare and Luka envies her the freedom a little.

“Uncle Sergio said I should just kick his teeth in,” she says. “Do you think I could do that?”

“Please don’t do that, Rosa.”

She pouts. “But he’s a real a–”

“Don’t finish that sentence, young lady!” He says and hopes he doesn’t sound like his mother.

She rolls her eyes and drips some of the nail polish on Luka’s shirt. He tries not to wince.

In the next few minutes Luka is asked to wave his hands around like a madman and then asked to let Rosa look at the nails really closely and then he is asked to hold still as Rosa applies a second coat of the blue colour.

He’s just waving his hands around for the second time when Rosa’s mum pokes her head in.

“Here you are, Rosa. Stop pestering the poor man and come downstairs with me, you can help me find Inés, she said she wanted to show you something. Is grandpa still sleeping?”

“Yes.” Rosa hops down from the bed and points to Luka’s nails. “Look Mum, isn’t it pretty?”

Rosa’s mum bites her lip but the amused chuckle still escapes her. “Very pretty, Rosa. Did you say thank you?”

Rosa’s eyes boggle out. “Why should I be saying thank you? I’m the one who did his nails! And I did them real pretty, look Mum!” She grabs Luka’s hand and all but shoves it in front of her mum’s face.

“Very nice. You should thank Luka for letting you practise on him.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks, Luka.”

“Thanks, Rosa,” Luka responds. “You did a great job.” He waggles his fingers at her as she leaves, then tries to wipe the nail polish off but all it does is smear a bit, holding on fast, already dried.

Soon after, Sergio walks in. “Rosa said you’re here,” he says. “Ah, I see she’s already got to you. Cute nails. I see she likes you.”

“She’s okay,” Luka says and wonders what is the long searching look Sergio gives him for.

Sergio walks over to the armchair where the grandfather is sleeping. “Hey, Grandps,” he says, shaking the man’s shoulder slightly.

The man wakes up slowly, blinking up at Sergio and then frowning at the glass of water and some pills Sergio has in his hand. With a sigh, he takes both from Sergio.

“I’ve met your Luka,” the man says, nodding at Luka. “He’s a good man.”

Sergio smiles and takes the glass back from him. “I know.”

It suddenly hits Luka, that Sergio’s family thinks the two of them are together together and that it doesn’t seem to bother anyone. No one has said anything the whole evening. He wonders if Sergio’s family knows about Sergio’s soulmark, what it says. Luka is so floored that he doesn’t correct the grandfather. He shoots Sergio a look and finds Sergio already looking back at him with an open expression on his face. It makes Luka’s heart speed up a bit.

Sergio clears his throat and turns back to the grandfather. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired,” the grandfather admits.

“You should get some sleep. I’ll come get you before dinner.”

“Good,” the grandfather says and then he falls asleep so quickly that Luka leans in, alarmed, to check if the man is still breathing.

Sergio laughs at him. “C’mon, you can help me walk the kids before diner.”

“Do you mean walk the dogs? Did your relatives bring their dogs?” Luka hasn’t noticed.

Sergio makes a face. “Yes, those, too. There are so many of them,” he says with a shudder. “Taking over the house.”

There’s a dog park close to Sergio’s and a total of three dogs that they were asked to walk, which is not bad at all. None of the kids wanted to go with them, claiming it was too cold and that they had better things to do. They probably settled on the rules of the game they were trying to play earlier.

Him and Sergio slowly walk through the park as the dogs scamper around.

“Did you know your mum got the kids to bake me Christmas cookies?” Luka asks.

“Hm, did she?” Sergio doesn’t sound surprised one bit.

“Everyone’s been so nice to me. Everyone is so nice to each other, too. It’s weird. Don’t you have any screeching aunts, drunken ex-husbands and evil stepmothers or something in your family?”

Sergio makes a thoughtful face. “No, I’m afraid we don’t have that.”

Luka nudges Sergio’s side and they don’t say anything. Luka is trying to debate with himself whether or not it would be okay to steal Sergio for the holiday retreat. He still owes him an answer but Sergio is being patient with him again.

“I’m sorry about your family,” Sergio says quietly. “It’s not fair you don’t get to see them.”

“I got what I wanted, didn’t I?” Luka scoffs. “My mother stopped meddling in my soulmate bond affairs and my father told me to fuck off.”

Sergio’s eyebrows rise up. “Did he?”

“Not is as many words,” Luka says and doesn’t meet Sergio’s eyes.

“Look, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Sergio says and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I just hate to think you’d be stuck here without them.”

“You just surprised me, is all,” Luka explains.

Sergio scowls. “What did you think I’d do? Fuck off to Seville when I know you’re here all alone in Madrid? For Christmas?”

“I’m not really feeling it this year anyway, you know?”

“I know. I’ve noticed. That’s exactly why I’m giving you this. It’s a gift, are you really going to say no? Luka. C’mon. There’ll be snow. There’ll be so much fucking snow you’ll be happy to be back in Madrid after. Please? Wouldn’t you like to go?”

He looks like an excited puppy. Hell, he’s even giving Luka the puppy eyes that rival all the three dogs’ puppy eyes combined and Luka can’t suddenly think of a single reason why he wouldn’t like to go.

“I’ll go pack my things,” Luka says and Sergio whoops in delight and punches Luka’s shoulder.

“You can go grab your shit once the dinner’s over.”

Luka didn’t realize he was invited for that part. It seemed as something reserved only for the family. “Right. I’ll go after dinner, of course.”

“Just don’t forget the sunscreen,” Sergio says and whistles sharply for the dogs to come back.

“Oh, fuck you, Sergio. Fuck you,” he says with a smile.

Chapter Text

Almost there, you ready?
Sergio texts him. He is running only a few minutes late which shows that he really doesn’t want to miss their plane.

Ten minutes ago, Luka sends back and mentally prepares a lecture for Sergio about texting while driving. He does his routine to check that he closed all the windows before he shrugs on his jacket and pats his pocket to make sure he has his passport.

A car pulls into Luka’s driveway but it’s not Sergio’s car and he is not behind the wheel either. Luka squints and walks outside to see what’s going on. It’s raining slightly and the drizzle catches in his hair, turning it into a wavy mess and ruining all Luka’s previous efforts to tame it. Luka tucks an unruly strand behind his ear and watches as Sergio climbs out from the back of the car.

“Hey, Lukita! Let’s get going. Where are your bags?” Sergio sprints up the few stairs up to Luka’s place, drops a quick kiss to Luka’s cheek and then barrels past him, looking for Luka’s luggage. He’s all pent-up energy and giddy excitement and Luka can’t help the fond smile that stretches his lips.

“You didn’t get to go for your morning run, did you?”

“Nope. How did you know?” Sergio grabs whichever luggage is closest to him to him and jerks his head back to the car. “There were too many things that dad wanted to get done before I leave.”

“I see,” Luka hums and together they haul his luggage into the car boot. He points to the roof rack carrier. “Are those skis?”

“Nope. Definitely not skis,” Sergio says, voice full of badly hidden laughter.

“Well, it’s your funeral,” Luka says and goes to sit in the backseat. He ends up squished between the doors and a giant teddy bear that’s honest to god strapped into the middle seat. “Um,” Luka says, eyeing the creature warily.

“Hi Luka,” says Sergio’s mum from the passenger’s seat, twisting to the back to wave at him. “Ah, don’t mind the bear. It’s for the kids. Last minute present. We’ll just drop you off at the airport and then we get to deliver it to Leticia.”

“Hey.” Sergio’s father is behind the wheel, impatiently drumming his fingers. “You boys done?”

Luka manages to return the greetings on autopilot, completely bewildered.

“Yes,” Sergio says as he slams the door shut, making the car rock a little. “We’re good to go.”

“Careful with that, Jesus Christ.”

“It’s raining,” Sergio offers as an explanation as he clicks the seatbelt into place.

They peel off from Luka’s driveway with such speed that Luka’s hand automatically shoots out to grip the seat in front of him. Sergio cackles.

Over the top of the plush teddy bear’s head, Luka hisses low under his breath, “I see who taught you how to drive.”

Sergio’s parents bicker over the radio station but the sound of the engine mostly drones out their voices. Every now and then Sergio’s mum raises her voice to ask them some question and Sergio’s father periodically grumbles about not being able to see the incoming traffic over the ‘stupid bear’s head’ so Sergio twists around to inform him. It’s an organized chaos and they make it to the airport in a record time.

“Have a safe flight!” Sergio’s dad says as he drops them off.

“See you next year,” Sergio says, leaning over to give his mum a quick peck on her cheek before he gets out of the car and starts gathering their luggage.

“I hear the weather is miserable, many flights are getting delayed,” Sergio’s mum adds while Luka is struggling with his seatbelt that somehow got tangled with the bear’s. “Let us know when you land.”

Luka’s eyes shoot to where Sergio is piling their luggage on the kerb. “Um, yeah, I’ll make sure he does.”

Sergio’s mum was right, their flight is delayed for long hours due to the bad weather conditions over the Alps. They can actually see their plane idly sitting near the gate, dark and empty. It’s the most frustrating feeling ever but Luka figures it’s better they can wait at the airport rather than crammed into the small space of the plane.

Luka and Sergio end up in the lounge, killing time by watching the other passengers hurrying to catch their flights. The place is decorated for the holidays, there is even a giant cone of tiny white lights shaped like a Christmas tree, accompanied by a larger-than life sculpture of Rudolph.

Sergio catches Luka rolling his eyes when he sees it. “What? The reindeer isn’t to your taste?”

“It doesn’t even look like a reindeer. Just plain old deer, like Bambi. Besides, how can it be Rudolph and keep its antlers over the winter, huh?”

“Oh my god,” Sergio says, delighted, “who knew you’d be such a Grinch about it. I can’t remember the last time you were this grumpy.”

Luka remembers quite well. Toni and Lucas won’t let him forget and the damned deer antlers picture is still circling around. Luka doesn’t think it wise to remind Sergio about it. “I’m not grumpy. It’s just–”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not feeling it this year. It’s popular with the children, though.”

“And adults alike,” Luka remarks, pointing with his chin to a lady sitting not far away from them. She has a dark red dress on with long sleeves and a giant golden cover over her soulmark. The dress is about two sizes too small for her. At her feet, there is a dark pug, resting peacefully, not at all perturbed by the tiny Santa Claus costume in which the woman has dressed it.

“Keeps the dog warm,” Sergio says, ever the optimist.

The woman pays them no mind, she is turned the other way from them, watching something intently. Luka turns to look in that direction as well and spots a huge flat screen mounted on the opposite wall.

“Oh, hey,” he elbows Sergio. “Look.”

“Awesome!”

They don’t catch the beginning of whatever film is being broadcasted but it just makes things more interesting anyway, allowing them to squabble over the possible plot. The airport announcements sometimes come at crucial parts of the film but Sergio always offers his version of what’s going on and Luka finds himself enjoying those comments more than the film.

It’s almost like their movie nights. Well, they’re not exactly cuddling but it’s a near thing. Sergio is sitting close enough that Luka feels all warm. Unlike Gareth who always tries to shush everyone who dares to open their mouth during a film, Sergio is happy to chat back and forth. He even lets Luka get away with pointing out the few logical errors he notices in the story, although he always fights Marce on that.

“Christmas are making you all soft,” Luka comments.

Sergio just pushes his shoulder against Luka, nudging him. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

“I’m not,” Luka assures him. There are worse places where he could be spending the beginning of the holidays than at the airport lounge with Sergio.

Chapter Text

“Why do you keep snickering?”

“No reason,” Sergio responds.

Luka suspiciously squints his eyes at Sergio but Sergio just keeps the smile on his face and doesn’t offer any explanation to Luka as they stomp through the snow from the dining hall to the hotel reception.

Luka is cursing whomever thought it was smart to have the two buildings separated so the hotel guests would have to venture outside whenever they’d like to enjoy their meal. Technically, it’s a nice idea – but it only works in summer. Right now there’s snow everywhere and Luka’s hands are freezing so he shoves them in his pockets. He is so cold he is shivering and therefore he is also short on patience. “Sergio. What is it?”

“It’s just that you’re like, totally invisible right now, little man,” Sergio finally explains, poking Luka in his chest. Luka is wearing a pearly white winter jacket that’s been issued by the team. There is a small silver emblem on the left side but it’s pretty inconspicuous otherwise.

“Fuck off,” Luka advices.

“I can’t see you,” Sergio says. “Where are you? It’s white all around.”

“I bet you can hear me, though,” Luka says and then adds under his breath, “you fucker.”

“Can’t see anyone out there,” Sergio goes on. “But I keep hearing voices.”

“You, on the other hand, with your colour clash clothes, make for a perfect target!” Luka says and jabs his elbow into Sergio’s side.

There is no way Sergio can feel it, not through that thick layer of clothes, but in retaliation, Sergio suddenly sticks his leg out and trips Luka’s feet so Luka nosedives into a waist-high bank of snow.

The snow cushions his fall and muffles Luka’s startled yelp. Luka belatedly manages to get his hands out of his pockets but it’s too late because the snow gets everywhere right away, into his nose and into his hair and it even finds its way under Luka’s jacket. It’s icy cold where it meets Luka’s skin and starts melting. “Jesus, that’s cold.”

Sergio laughs at him.

“You’ll pay for that,” Luka threatens and grabs a handful of snow, quickly trying to press it into a compact shape of a snowball. The snow is too light for it, it falls apart in Luka’s hand like dust but it doesn’t stop him from throwing it at Sergio’s face.

Sergio waltzes away. “Puh, bring it on!”

Luka dives for a cover behind the nearest tree and the snowball fight is on just like that. It rages on for several long minutes, fast and ruthless, with no clear winners. Luka’s aim is deadly accurate but Sergio makes up for it with speed. Luka has no idea how Sergio manages that, his own fingers are getting numb from the cold and are slow to bend and scoop more snow.

There is a suspicious cease of fire so Luka peeks out to see what Sergio is up to now and he sees him finishing a giant snowball. Luka has barely time to duck as it flies at his head. It misses him and Luka cackles but the sound is cut short. The snowball misses him, sure, but it splatters against the tree trunk behind him with such force it rattles the branches and in the next second all the snow from the tree comes falling down on him in one giant pile.

He’s freezing, shivering way worse than before and the snow lies heavy on him. As he’s struggling to free himself, a hand appears, grabs him and pulls him up. When he breaks through the snow, another hand wraps around his waist to help him to his feet.

“Shit, are you okay?” Sergio pulls off his glove and starts dusting the show off Luka, all worried. “I didn’t mean–”

Luka takes in several gulps of air, calming down.

“Answer me!” Sergio snaps, forgetting his task of dusting Luka free of snow and grabbing his shoulders instead, shaking him a little. “Are you okay?”

Luka manages to catch his breath only to let out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“Idiot,” Sergio says.

Luka brings his hands up to get Sergio’s hands off him. Sergio’s hands are somehow still warm, though he’s been complaining about the cold twice as much as Luka.

“You’re freezing,” Sergio says, surprised, letting go of Luka’s shoulders and capturing his hands instead, trying to warm them up a little.

Luka feels the warmth spreading. “Yeah, I’ve been telling you.” There is snow in his shoes, some of the melting slush got under his goddamn cover, and the scarf around his neck is so damp it’s not providing any warmth at all. He can’t stop laughing and Sergio’s eyes snap to him, watching him carefully for a few moments. Then a smile curls Sergio’s lips up and he’s joining Luka, laughing as well. They trudge back to the hotel, setting each other off again in turns.

“I wish I had my phone when that snow fell on you,” Sergio says, twisting his face into an expression of mock shock.

“I did not look like that,” Luka protests. “Besides, you should have seen yourself when you got me out. All worried, like–” He does his best trying to mimic Sergio’s wide-eyed stare.

Sergio shrugs. “Well, of course I was worried. I couldn’t see you anywhere.”

Luka squints up at him. “Are we back to criticising my clothes again?”

“We never stopped, try to keep up. Next on the list, your shoes.”

“What’s wrong with those?”

“Besides the boring colour? They’re soaked through.”

Luka glances down, wonders how Sergio can tell. “Yeah, I’d better head upstairs and grab a shower before I catch a cold.” They reach the hotel, enter the spacious hall but instead of heading for the lifts, Sergio steers them to the reception desk.

“Just a sec,” he says and Luka follows. They’re trailing snow everywhere, leaving quickly-melting puddles behind them. At least there are tiles and not carpets in this place.

The receptionist spares a glance at the floor and her lips press together for a tiny moment before she gets a hold of herself. “Hi, anything I can do for you?”

“Hey, yeah, actually. We were wondering if we can still sign-up for tonight?” Sergio jerks his head a bit to the receptionist’s right and only then Luka notices the poster inviting everyone to take part in a Christmas themed karaoke night.

“Why of course,” the receptionist says, her stern expression from earlier completely forgotten, “there are never enough participants! Can I put down both of you?”

“Yes,” Sergio says before Luka finds his voice.

“What are your hotel room numbers?” Sergio tells her and she types it into the computer in front of her. With those few clicks, she’s sealed Luka’s fate. “All done! Hope you have fun tonight. It’s beginning right after dinner.”

“Excellent,” Sergio says. “Thanks.” He gives her one of his wide smiles and she doesn’t go back to scowling when they make their way to the lifts, leaving snow in their wake.

“Nope, not happening,” Luka says once the doors slide close and Sergio pushes the button for their floor.

“Ah, why not?”

“Singing? Seriously, Sergio? I’m not singing!” Luka crosses his arms and watches the numbers of the floor on the lift go up because if he glances at Sergio and Sergio gives him that kicked-puppy look, Luka will cave in.

“If you won’t, then I’ll just have to sing loud enough for the two of us,” Sergio says just as they arrive to their floor. “I’d better start practising right away,” he adds and breaks into a song.

His voice carries through the empty hallway, loud and echoing.

Luka quickly casts a look around them but no one is after them yet. He grabs Sergio’s hand and drags him through the hall to their rooms before anyone comes looking for the source of this racket. “I will, I will, okay? Oh my god, just please stop singing.”

“But… It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” Sergio hollers, miraculously holding the tune.

“Jesus,” Luka says and attempts to cover Sergio’s mouth with one hand. Sergio swats it away while Luka is swiping his key card through the slot and getting the door open. He shoves Sergio inside, quickly shutting the door behind them.

Sergio doesn’t shut up once they’re inside and when Luka tries to kick his shin, Sergio just dances out of reach, towards the connecting door that lead to Sergio’s hotel room. He leaves the door wide open as usual but then he pauses and turns to point back at Luka as he croons, “But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be on your own front door.”

Luka realizes there’s a quickly growing puddle of melted snow underneath him. “Shit,” he mutters and gets moving. He turns to the bathroom to discard his wet clothes and to get himself warm again in the shower.

Forget the cover, there are pine needles in his underwear. He’s going to kill Sergio, he thinks as he steps into the hot stream of water and lets the rest of the world fade away.

The first thing he hears when the water stops running, is Sergio’s muffled voice. He’s still singing.

“…was a jolly happy soul,” comes through the closed door and Luka catches himself grinning into fogged-up mirror. He can’t help it. Sergio’s cheer is infectious.

Chapter Text

“Oh wow, that’s a lot of tinsel,” Luka says the moment him and Sergio step inside the entertainment room. The karaoke night is at full swing but there are only a handful of people sitting around and Luka is relieved that not all that many strangers will hear his awful singing. Better than the large crowd he’s been picturing in his head. At least no one is dancing. Small mercies.

“Well, I expected worse,” Sergio says, already bobbing his head to the cheery Christmas music.

“Worse? How could this be worse?” There is a chain of flashing Christmas lights along the entire length of the edge of the stage, there is a Christmas tree with a fake snow fountain that is relentlessly making the snow fall from the tree and all the chairs in the room have been donned with covers that have a picture of snowman, deer or Santa on them. Everything is either red or green or glittery. Or all three things at once. Luka scans the ceilings, watchful for any low-hanging sprigs of mistletoe because he does not need any incidents like that. “Do not answer that,” he adds hastily when he notices Sergio opening his mouth.

Sergio snaps his mouth shut and before he finds something else to say, they are spotted by the receptionist from earlier.

“Glad to see both of you could made it! Hi and welcome,” she says. She’s switched her hotel uniform for an elf costume and she’s apparently moderating the karaoke night. She seems to be really enthusiastic about it, too. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

“I’m doubtful,” Luka mutters under his breath, just low enough for Sergio to overhear it and jab a sharp elbow to Luka’s side.

“Of course we will,” Sergio says, then gestures to the stage where some woman is singing Christmas carols. Luka already feels like he’s heard one carol too many. “The competition looks good.”

The receptionist-turned-elf offers them a smile and says, “She sounds good but the real point is to have a good time. Let me help you find your table.” She seats them at a table and bounces off to mingle among the hotel guests with a spring to her step. It makes the bobble on her hat swing from side to side.

Now that he’s much closer to the stage, Luka can actually see the singer beyond a dark outline under the flashing lights. The woman is wearing a long-sleeved dress and she has on a giant golden soulmark cover but it doesn’t hit Luka until he sees the pug sprawled at her feet, looking like it couldn’t care less about the music. Luka shares its sentiment.

“Holy– Sergio, that’s–” he says, turning to Sergio.

“I know, I know! It’s definitely her!” Sergio is nodding enthusiastically. “From the airport!”

When the woman finishes singing, Sergio is the one to clap the loudest and he even whistles in appreciation, summoning a wide smile on the woman’s face. Someone else takes the stage and another song starts playing. It’s not half bad either.

Sergio is clearly having a blast and they didn’t even get to the singing part yet. Luka lets himself be amused, him and Sergio chattering in between the breaks of the songs until it’s their turn to sing.

Sergio springs to his feet, grabbing Luka’s hands and more or less dragging him onstage. The gathered guests titter at their antics.

The music of their song is familiar from the first beat but the lyrics to guide them through it are in Italian. Sergio is ignoring it, opting instead to sing the Spanish version and though Luka doesn’t really know all the lyrics, he stubbornly sticks to it too. Then the song is over and people are clapping and Sergio has his arm slung around Luka’s waist and is turning to give Luka a wink as he says ‘thank you’ into the microphone.

It makes Luka laugh. He knows the words are meant for him, for indulging Sergio. He tries to keep the fond smile from becoming too sappy and this time it’s him who is dragging Sergio off the stage while the guests are tittering again.

The night passes along smoothly. There are some other guests singing and then there’s the woman with the pug again. Once her song is over, she crosses the room to their table but she only addresses Sergio as she hands him over the microphone. “You should give it a go. But this time without the backup.”

“Puh! Gladly.” Sergio snatches the microphone from her outstretched hand and Luka is left to nurse his drink alone as Sergio starts climbing up the stage.

The woman slides to Sergio’s abandoned chair next to Luka. Her hair is done up and she’s still smiling widely. “Tonight is delightful,” she says, holding out her hand for Luka to shake. Luka tries to keep his eyebrows from raising as he obliges.

“I saw you two while we were waiting at the airport,” she says. “Oh, c’mon, you, take a place. There, that’s a good girl,” she says, patting her dog.

“Yeah, we noticed you as well. Lovely dog.”

“She’s my little princess, you are, aren’t you?” She finishes in a high-pitched voice as she glances down at the dog. The dog snuffles closer to her and finds a comfortable spot under the table, one of its paws kicking Luka in his foot.

Luka finally manages to wrench his hand free from the woman’s handshake that has been going on for way too long. “She really is cute.”

“Maybe not as cute as your young man,” she says, jerking her chin towards the stage, the damned smile never leaving her face.

Luka splutters.

Before he can decide how to respond, the woman suddenly clucks her tongue and peers down at Luka’s hands. “On but honey, you should do something about those nails.”

Luka glances down and feels the faint blush creep to his cheeks when he sees the remaining patches of Rosa’s blue nail polish. He folds his hands in his lap and is saved by having to keep up the conversation with the woman when Sergio finally starts singing some song Luka doesn’t recognise.

A few moments into the song, the guests start clapping along the refrain of Sergio’s song, much to Luka’s surprise. When even the woman sitting next starts clapping along, Luka pulls his hands from underneath the table and joins in, turning in his seat a little to fully face the stage. If the woman gives his nails any more scornful looks, Luka doesn’t see it.

First thing tomorrow morning, Luka is swearing to himself, he’ll go find some drug store that is selling nail polish remover.

On the stage, Sergio is soaking up the attention and Luka claps his hands a little harder, glad to see Sergio so carefree.

Chapter Text

Luka doesn’t go to the drug store first thing the following morning. He doesn’t go to the drug store the following day at all. Instead, he gets woken up by Sergio at an ungodly hour when the sun is just barely up.

“Let me sleep,” he whines, trying to burrow into his warm blanket but Sergio is insistent.

“No, you have to see this. Get up, Luka. You can sleep later.”

He lets out a groan, tosses his pillow in the general direction from which he can hear Sergio’s voice and sits up on the bed. “What’s going on?”

“It’s snowing!” Sergio exclaims happily, reaching down and urging Luka to raise to his feet. Luka lets himself get pulled up, although he is still protesting and complaining about it. Sergio simply shrugs the grumbling off, “You’ll forgive me when you see what it’s like outside.”

“What would it be like – I bet’s it’s cold,” Luka says. “I’m not going out. Or at least, I want breakfast first.”

Sergio laughs at him, grabs the pillow from the floor and tosses it back at Luka. “They aren’t serving breakfast yet.”

Luka catches the pillow, fluffs it up and places it back on the bed. “Jesus, why are you even up when there’s no food yet? We’re on holiday.”

“I got up early to go for a morning run,” Sergio says gesturing to the window. Luka is too sleepy to walk over so he just turns his head to look outside. They’re so high up that all he can see from his angle is white sky. “But then it started snowing and it’s… it’s beautiful. It’ll be perfect, you’ll see.”

“I can see it from the window, no need to get up,” Luka objects but it’s more of a token protest at this point because he knows Sergio won’t give up.

“That’s really not the same. Puts some pants on, I’ll be back in a flash.”

Sergio disappears into his room and he really is back the very next moment, while Luka is staring blearily into his wardrobe and trying to blink himself awake.

“Oh my god, you’re adorable,” Sergio says as he drops a quick kiss to Luka’s hairline.

“It’s too early,” Luka whines. He doesn’t have the energy to look what Sergio is up to when there is a clattering sound from somewhere near the armchair in Luka’s room. He rubs his hand over his face, wishing he could still be fast asleep in the warm, comfortable bed.

“No, it’s not.” Sergio nudges Luka out of the way to reach into Luka’s wardrobe. He starts tossing out Luka’s clothes, complete with a ski suit Luka is almost positive he didn’t pack.

Luka watches the quickly growing pile that’s forming on his bed, eyebrows raising as he watches Sergio fish out the last item, a skiing helmet. Sergio then crosses the room to grab something from the armchair and when he turns back to Luka, Luka can’t help the gasp that escapes him.

“What the hell, Sergio?” he manages, staring at Sergio wide-eyed.

Sergio grins, triumphant. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“Well, you said those aren’t skis,” Luka acknowledges, remembering Sergio’s assurance back from Sergio’s parents gave them a lift to the airport.

“And they aren’t,” Sergio says smugly and motions for Luka to take one of the two snowboards he’s holding in his hands.

“If the team finds out, we’re dead,” Luka says but Sergio just shakes his head.

“I found a loophole. I checked and what we’re forbidden to do is go skiing. Which we won’t be doing since we’ll be snowboarding.”

“About which there’s not a single word in the contract, I assume?”

“Sharp as ever, Lukita. Chop, chop, let’s see if the boots fit you.”

By the time they make it outside, the sun has managed to peek over the roof of the hotel and the snowing hasn’t eased one bit. The area surrounding their hotel is caught in a beautiful play of light catching on the lazily falling snowflakes.

“What did I tell you?”

“It’s amazing,” Luka admits, holding up his glove and waiting till one of the snowflakes lands on it, then he brings it up close to his face for inspection and watches it melt under his warm breath.

“Right? Just wait till we’re up on that mountain, the view from there will be even better.”

“Are–”

“And before you ask, yes, they are already operating.”

Luka lets out a sigh and doesn’t finish his question. Sergio knows him too well.

It’s still snowing when they board the cable car and they both fall silent during their way up, watching as they leave the snowy scenery in a distance. When they get out of the car, it’s not snowing anymore. The whole valley lies beneath them, softly light in the morning sun and Luka can see the line where the snowing stops. One side of the valley is hidden under the dark, heavy clouds while the weather on the other side is still clear, the sun is just peeking above the treetops.

Sergio picks a blue trail for them to ‘get them started’ and a little later, they’re are whooshing down the slope. The snow is crisp with frost and it’s a delight to cut into it with the edge of the snowboard, trailing snow up into the air with each curve and turn. The forest stretches the entire length of the trail and on the opposite side of the mountain, the jagged valleys of the mountain are barely visible in the snowfall that is raging over there. The sun is up and shining, the sky turns bright blue and the day couldn’t be more perfect.

At one point, the slope bests Luka as he leans against the motion of his turn and lands on his ass.

Sergio sprays him with snow as he overtakes Luka, cackling as he does it, hollering, “That’s what I’m talking about!” He does slow to a near stop though, waiting to see if Luka gets up alright before picking up speed again and disappearing almost completely out of sight.

“You suck,” Luka calls out once he catches up with him.

“No, I don’t,” Sergio says, jumping up and then doing a smooth turn. “C’mon, try to keep up!”

Luka does keep up without any problem. It’s easy to move down the slope in tandem, without getting under each other’s foot.

They eventually venture on the black trails, too. They really are groomed, just as Sergio said they would be, and though there are a few ‘unmarked hazards’, they make it down each time without an incident and the trails are definitely worth it. They are interesting and challenging, offering beautiful scenery, going slow-paced through forest and allowing them to pick up speed on the steep slopes.

Time passes without Luka even noticing but they do eventually stop at one of the restaurants on the crossroads of the trails to get brunch. They don’t bother travelling back down to the hotel, making a good use of the pass Sergio got them instead.

In the afternoon, the weather changes abruptly, the sunny sky darkening within a couple of minutes, the wind picking up in intensity, becoming sharp and icy as it bites into them while they quickly make their way back to the cable car.

The weather gets worse the closer to the hotel they get. When the cable car takes them the rest of the way downhill, they can’t even see their hotel the snowfall is so heavy. Everything is white and Luka can’t see but a few feet ahead.

“Bloody weather,” Sergio mutters as they hasten to the hotel, following along the road that is quickly disappearing under the freshly falling snow.

“I thought you said it was beautiful?” Luka teases.

“It was, though, wasn’t it?” Sergio asks and Luka has to smack him with his snowboard for being so silly and having to ask.

“Of course it was. Absolutely beautiful. I had a great time, let’s do it again once the weather stops being so miserable.”

Luka doesn’t see it but he is certain Sergio is smiling that wide, pleased smile of his.

Chapter Text

The following morning, the sky is blue and clear with no cloud in sight, so they take the snowboards to the slopes again but around midday the heavy snowfall is back, accompanied by a sharp wind. Since neither of them is willing to risk getting stuck in a cable car or getting cut off on the slopes once the cable car stops running due to the weather conditions, they return to the hotel.

Sergio checks the time. “We can still make it to lunch.”

“There is like, twenty minutes left,” Luka points out.

“More like thirty if we’re quick,” Sergio says. “Let’s just grab something small.”

The dining hall is almost empty. Most of the guests have already eaten their lunch and the tiles on the floor are covered in pools of melting snow because everyone needed to cross the outside between the dining hall and their hotel rooms.

“They really didn’t think this through,” Sergio laments as they try to make it to their table without slipping on the wet floor.

“Forget skiing, this is the ‘no unnecessary risks’ clause they should have included in our contracts,” Luka agrees.

While they finish lunch, the wind keeps howling outside, causing the treetops to sway wildly. Luka and Sergio exchange a glance and just like that it’s decided that there won’t be any more snowboarding today. Instead, Luka makes the long-overdue trip to the drug store downtown and Sergio tags along, likely for the lack of anything better to do.

In the shop, Luka snatches the first nail polish remover he spots and makes his way to the register when something on the shelves catches his eye. It’s an unassuming white bottle with an orange label. Luka grins and reaches for it. “Perfect,” he says.

“Sante’s bio-orange shampoo?” Sergio reads over his shoulder questioningly.

“It’s for Marco’s soulmate,” Luka explains. “Her hair used to be this precise colour.” He grabs a hair conditioner and some nutrition oil off the shelf as well, stifling a snicker at the thought of the look on Naranča’s face once she opens the present.

Sergio adds a small bottle with balm to their purchase. The balm promises to relieve irritated soulmarked skin. Sergio doesn’t offer more than a shrug to Luka’s concerned gaze as they pay for the items.

The worst of the snowstorm hits when they’re nearly back at the hotel. The strength of the wind almost knocks them off their feet and the snow that is carried by the wind feels like small icy pricks of needles against their exposed skin. They try to run as fast as possible the remaining distance to the hotel, cursing under their breath. At first the sky darkens ominously but then everything turns white. The ground, the sky, the surrounding area, everything is turned into shapeless white fog. It’s snowing so heavily that nothing is to be seen through the snowflakes, not even the outline of the hotel that must be just right in front of them.

Luka shudders at the thought of getting caught outside on the slopes in this weather.

“Glad we stayed here,” Sergio calls out, apparently thinking along the same lines as Luka. “Bloody weather.”

Luka turns his head over his shoulder but can’t even see Sergio who Luka knows is jogging a few paces behind, trying not to slip on the fallen snow. All they have to do is follow the road uphill, straight to their hotel. They don’t really have anywhere to get lost but Luka still lets out a relieved sigh once they reach the safety of the building. The lack of howling wind and freezing snow when they enter inside the reception area is an immediate improvement and the warmth that envelopes them when they get to Sergio’s hotel room which is closer to the lifts, is even better.

Sergio is clenching and unclenching his fingers. “I need a hot shower. Really, really hot.”

“You could take a bath,” Luka points out, trying to pull off his gloves with his frozen fingers, then proceeds to struggle with the zipper of his coat. “God, I’m freezing, my fingers are numb.”

“I bet they aren’t as cold as mine,” Sergio says. He sticks out his hands for Luka to take into his and tell for himself. Luka obliges, noting that despite Sergio’s complaining, his hands are still warm. It’s probably the reason why Sergio lets out a yelp when Luka retaliates by pressing his icy cold fingers to Sergio’s neck. “Fuck. Okay, you win. Now I’m definitely taking that bath.”

Luka chuckles and goes to his own room where he finally manages to get out of his coat. He notices that it’s damp from where the snow that has fallen onto him has started to melt in the heat of the room so once he finishes getting changed into something warm and dry, he returns to Sergio’s room.

Just as Luka suspected, Sergio’s clothes are in a heap on the floor right where Sergio shrugged them off. Luka goes over to deal with the winter coat, scarf and hat that are still dusted with snow. He wants to at least hang Sergio’s shirt over the chair so it doesn’t get creased. He’s reaching for the shirt when all of the sudden the sound of Sergio’s ringing phone comes from underneath the pile of clothes.

Luka tries waiting it out but whomever is calling is insistent and when Luka peers at the screen and sees that it’s Sergio’s mum, his mind is made up. He can’t leave her waiting while Sergio finishes soaking up in the bathtub, she’d be worried that Sergio is not picking up for such a long time.

“Hi, this is Luka, I’m sorry but Sergio is taking a bath and I–”

“Luka!” Sergio’s mum exclaims happily. “How are you, dear? Sergio said the weather was delightful.”

“Well, yes, it was. We got a lot of fresh snow last night and there is a snowstorm coming at us right now but otherwise it’s really beautiful here,” Luka reports.

“I know, Sergio told me. I’m glad he’s with you when your family couldn’t see you for the holidays. It must be hard on you.”

Luka has been doing fine, pretending no Christmas exist and living in the moment, in a little bubble of snowboarding, steep slopes and blue skies. He’s managed to shove the rest of the world on the edge of his consciousness and while he couldn’t forget, he did a great job at ignoring it.

Sergio’s mum has effectively shattered that bubble. “Yes, I mean… it’s,” Luka tries, helpless to find the right words.

Sergio’s mum heaves a sigh into the phone. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, it’s alright,” Luka hastens to assure her, though his chest feels tight and everything he tried so hard not to think about is now fully back on his mind.

“I just wanted to speak with Sergio.”

“Yes, of course. He’s still in the bath. I’ll let him know to call you back once he’s done.”

“Ah, don’t bother, Luka. Just tell him something for me, okay? Tell him that Inés brought his book back and said she was sorry. She’s had it the whole time.”

Luka is silently mouthing the words as he tries to memorize everything. “Right, I’ll let him know,” he’s nodding along before he realizes Sergio’s mum can’t see him. He stops nodding his head. There is a distant ringing in his ears that has nothing to do with the quality of the phone signal.

“That’d be great, thank you, dear.”

Luka replies on autopilot, the words barely registering. “No problem. Anything else?”

“No, that’s all. Thank you. It wasn’t really that important. I’ll leave you to enjoy the snow. Happy holidays, Luka,” Sergio’s mum says cheerfully and hangs up. Luka’s throat is so constricted that he doesn’t manage to get out a reply before she ends the call.

Luka places the phone on Sergio’s nightstand table and stares at it for a couple of minutes, trying and failing not to think about anything. When that doesn’t work, he gets up and finishes folding Sergio’s discarded clothes over the chair, then he walks back into his own hotel room, closing the connecting door behind him as he goes.

He holds his own phone in his hand, indecisive. He’s tried this once already and it brought him nothing but pain. Luka closes his eyes and lets out a long breath, mustering the courage to dial his mother’s number. It’s the Christmas Day in Croatia and Luka prays for a Christmas miracle.

The phone rings and rings and nobody picks up.

Luka doesn’t know why he expected anything different. He blinks back tears that threaten to fall as he tries to call his sisters instead. The youngest doesn’t pick up and neither does the other. They’re probably at their mother’s place, all together in the living room. Mother has surely done her Christmas decorating and the whole house is even cosier than usual, complete with the festive table cloth that their mother has made back when they were all still little kids. It’s like any other Christmas. Only Luka’s chair at the table remains unoccupied and no one gets told off for sticking their fingers into the loops of the lace.

Luka squeezes his eyes shut but it doesn’t help because he can see everything vividly in his mind. He misses them all something fierce.

Chapter Text

Someone laughs loudly in the hallway and a dog starts barking in response in the room bellow Luka’s. The sudden noise rouses Luka from his unhappy musing.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed but he glances up and sees that the room has gotten even darker. The screen of his phone is blank, the phone has powered down. He pockets the phone and raises to his feet. He has a message about the book to deliver to Sergio. He pushes the connecting door open, determined to relay the message and then make his excuses to Sergio about the rest of the evening. He’s in no mood to force a smile on his face and pretend he’s okay.

“Hey.”

Sergio’s legs are dangling over the armrest of the couch. He’s lying on his back, hands stretched up in the air and holding some magazine he’s reading. Sergio tosses the magazine aside when he hears Luka enter the room. “Finally. You took forever. I was thinking – how about we go out tonight? C’mon, Lukita, live a little!”

“Um. Sergio, I-”

Sergio rolls to his side and raises on one elbow, sparing Luka one quick glance before he’s hastily cutting Luka off. “Or we can just stay in, sure, that sounds great as well. Let’s ring up the restaurant for something to eat and we can have a good laugh at some crappy TV show or something.”

Luka wavers for a moment but all his excuses die on his lips so he moves into the space Sergio vacated on the couch and settles down next to him. The familiar routine is comforting. “Yeah, let’s just stay in,” he says all quiet. He reaches for the TV remote. “What are we watching?”

Sergio frowns, one hand on the phone. “Aren’t you hungry? I’m sure they’ll have something Thai,” he prods.

“Oh, right. Food. Whatever you’re having is fine. By the way, your mum called to tell you Inés brought back your book. She’s sorry.”

“Ah! That’s great. I’m glad it was found, I was sure she’d lost it for good. Did mum say anything else?”

“No. Just that. The phone kept ringing so I picked it up–”

Sergio waves him off. “Sure, no problem. Put Sliter on, it’s a shame you haven’t seen it yet.”

“You and the stupid romcoms,” Luka teases.

The corner of his lip twitches up when Sergio places his hand over his heart and gasps in mock outrage, “First of all, don’t diss. And second, man, it might be a comedy but it’s more horror than romance.”

“Says you,” Luka goes on. “It’ll be like that Ibiza movie all over again.”

There is a strange silence that follows and for once Luka can’t read the look Sergio is giving him. “It’s more of a dark comedy,” Sergio finally says.

“That remains to be seen,” Luka dismisses, heart beating faster for no reason whatsoever.

They get the film started and the food arrives soon after, complete with a generous serving of chocolate mousse for Luka. Sergio just shrugs impishly when Luka gives him a sharp look.

They’ve barely just finished eating when Luka’s phone chimes with an incoming message and when he opens it, his breath catches in his throat. It’s a picture from his sister – a family photo. And he’s not on it.

That’s the first thought he has when he sees it. He can’t even comprehend anything else about the picture for long seconds because the pain and longing grips him so tight he has problems breathing. Then he gathers himself enough to take in tiny details about the picture. It’s not the strained smiles or dark shadows under the eyes that Luka’s gaze lingers on. It’s something really small. His mother’s hand is gripping his youngest sister’s shoulder and mother’s ring is clearly visible to the camera.

It’s the ring Luka gave her last year for Christmas. It’s such a small thing. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. It doesn’t have to mean anything to her and he’s reading too much into it but he can’t help the tiny flicker of hope when he sees it. She hasn’t cut all ties with him. She’s angry, understandably so, but she is not behaving as if she had never had a son. She hasn’t gotten rid of all the evidence of his existence in her life.

Luka’s throat feels tight again.

“Ah, shit,” Sergio says and then Luka is suddenly pulled into a warm embrace.

“It’s fine,” Luka says, even though it’s not.

Just as sudden as the embrace started, it ends and Luka has to stop himself from making any noise of protests.

“Hang on, okay? Just a second,” Sergio says and springs to his feet.

Luka stares at the empty spot, eyebrows raising.

Sergio is gone longer than just a second, long enough for Luka to type out a response to his sister, agonizing over every word, Love you all. Happy Holidays! He also pauses the film because between the two of them, it’s Sergio who is actually following the plot. Luka idly flips through Sergio’s magazine that’s still on the table, waiting for Sergio to come back. It’s one of the magazines about raising horses that Sergio has subscribed to and Luka makes a mental note to ask Sergio about the progress he’s been making. Later, though, once Luka’s mind is not all over the place so that he could enjoy the conversation.

Luka is just about to get up and come looking for Sergio when Sergio returns, two deep-green mugs in his hands. Sergio sets one mug on the table and then leans down to press the second mug into Luka’s hands.

The colour and the smell is easily recognisable. It’s eggnog. Luka automatically wraps his hands around the mug to keep it steady and Sergio’s touch lingers for a moment.

“I don’t want to end up getting drunk,” Luka protests. “I’m not that miserable.”

Sergio rolls his eyes. “Puh. You won’t get drunk from one eggnog.”

It’s not just one eggnog that does it. There is whiskey and then mulled wine and then it’s whiskey again, followed by some colourful abomination of a drink Sergio makes him drink on a dare because he thinks Luka can’t be any fun but Luka is fun.

“I am fun,” he tells Sergio.

Sergio laughs, proving Luka’s point and Luka, content, takes a sip of his eggnog because he has returned to drinking eggnog, since it’s Christmas and all.

“You’re fun sized, that’s for sure,” Sergio says and Luka hears the laughter linger in his voice.

Luka blindly swats at him and misses, jostling his mug instead and the eggnog splashes over the brim, dripping along the side of the mug and making Luka’s fingers all sticky.

“Uggh,” Luka complains, setting the mug on the table and licking his fingers clean.

Sergio makes a noise that has Luka raising his head curiously. Sergio uses Luka’s distraction to snatch the eggnog away.

“Hey,” Luka protests. “Are you cutting me off?”

“No,” Sergio says, though he helps himself to Luka’s eggnog. “How did you like the film?”

Luka blinks at the TV and sure enough, the film has already ended. Luka kind of missed the last part of it completely but in his defence, Sergio has been distracting him. With booze.

Luka giggles. “T’was okay.”

Apparently, that’s a good answer because Sergio beams at him. “See? What did I say? Was it anything like Ibiza?”

“No,” Luka acknowledges. “For one, you never tried to kiss me.”

“Ah,” Sergio says and his beautiful smile is gone just like that.

Luka can’t stand it, so he launches over and tickles Sergio without mercy. Sergio tries to retaliate but as usual, his attempts are weak and Luka knows his weak spots better. They end up an entangled mess but somehow they both manage to keep on the couch. The room is spinning, though, and it’s too hot.

“It’s too hot in here,” Luka announces, attempting to dislodge Sergio so that he could get the balcony door open. “I’ll get the balcony open.”

“No it’s not. And it’s fucking freezing outside and what if you fall over the railing?”

Luka pouts. “I won’t fall over the railing. I just want to–”

“No way, Luka. Get back here.”

Luka snickers. “Make me.”

“You are a fucking nuisance,” Sergio says but he doesn’t sound angry as he sneaks his arms around Luka’s waist to keep him from harm. And from the cold, too. Which Luka appreciates. He leans back against Sergio’s chest, humming in agreement.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Luka says and for some reason, it makes Sergio laugh. His breath is hot against the side of Luka’s face and it catches weirdly when Luka tries to wiggle himself into a more comfortable position. “Everything okay?”

“No,” Sergio says but he doesn’t sound unhappy. “You are a terrible flirt.”

Luka’s brow furrow, voice going small, “Am I? Terrible?”

Sergio stares at him for a brief moment before bursting out laughing. That is okay. He has a nice laugh. But Sergio also unwraps his hands from Luka and tries to move away, which is not okay.

“Don’t go,” Luka groans, holding onto him, entwining their fingers.

Sergio tugs at their his hands but his heart is not in it because he doesn’t succeed in getting away. “Luka,” Sergio says, like he wants Luka to be reasonable.

Luka can deal with reasonable. Reasonable just means Luka has to argue better. He’s got plenty of practice from the field in that.

“If I let you go away, you’ll never come back,” Luka mumbles. Sergio laughs at him which isn’t very reassuring so Luka tightens his grip on Sergio and burrows closer. “Don’t go anywhere,” he demands.

“I just wanted to get the blinds,” Sergio says.

Luka doesn’t care about some stupid blinds. There’s nothing outside of the hotel but snowy forests, stretching for miles and miles into the dark night. “Sergio,” he almost whines.

“You’ll complain in the morning.” Sergio grumbles but he finally stops moving and Luka settles comfortably into him again.

“Stay,” he demands once more for a good measure.

“Sure, sure. Like I could get away if I wanted to.”

Luka makes a low, inquisitive noise, too sleepy to put words to his confusion.

Sergio chuckles. “You’re holding on too tight,” he says and Luka has a feeling that’s not what Sergio meant at all but he’s too comfortable to care, as long as Sergio stays close and warm and cosy.

Chapter Text

Luka wakes up to the sensation of something shifting underneath him. His hand shoots out to keep himself from falling and collides with something warm and pliant.

“Shit, sorry,” Sergio murmurs and Luka lets out a relieved sigh, the tension leaving his body as he remembers. They are in Sergio’s hotel room because they’ve fallen asleep on the couch.

“S’okay,” he croaks. His throat is parched and there is an unpleasant, bitter taste in his mouth. The pleasant buzz from the evening before is long gone, along with the soothing warmth he felt.

“I woke you,” Sergio says, stating the obvious.

It’s definitely past midnight but it’s not early enough into the new day since the sun isn’t up yet to hurt his eyes. Outside, the sky is dark and the storm has stopped. Luka can see where the snow is piled high up on the window sill. The blinds aren’t shut and all the snow outside is reflecting what little light can the night offer, casting everything in the room into shades of grey and dark blue.

“T’s fine,” Luka manages to say. It’s been a while since Luka had a good night’s sleep and he feels more rested now than he has in weeks, despite not having slept through the whole night.

“I didn’t want to wake you but my arm fell asleep,” Sergio explains and then he withdraws his hand, leaving’s Luka’s side cold. He gives his arm a shake and then pokes at it with the fingers of his other hand while Luka shifts away from him, trying to get into a more dignified position.

They are both silent for a while and it’s a comfortable silence. Sergio appears to be deep in thought and Luka is reluctant to leave for the seclusion of his own room.

Then, into the darkness, Sergio says so quietly it’s barely more than a soft exhale. “Luka?”

“Yeah?”

“In Zagreb, when your mum got angry,” Sergio begins hesitantly, “was she angry because of me?”

“No, of course not,” Luka responds but Sergio clucks his tongue, displeased with the answer.

“I don’t mean because of me – but because of the, you know.”

Luka knows but he surely won’t say it if Sergio won’t. Luka waits him out, using the time to rake his brain for a convenient answer.

Sergio gives his arm another shake and then he asks, “You haven’t talked to her at all?”

“No.”

“Not even a phone call?”

“I tried to give her a call last time I was in Zagreb,” Luka admits. “She didn’t answer. Same thing this time around.”

Sergio says slowly, “So she’s not talking to you because of that disagreement you had with her about me?”

Luka stares at him, horrified, because it’s been months and fuck, he really hopes Sergio hasn’t been thinking the whole time that it was his fault. “I told you it wasn’t about you,” Luka says.

“But you were really weird about it. I thought you’d tell me when you were ready but it’s just another thing you’re keeping to yourself.” Sergio’s eyes are two giant pools of darkness and Luka can’t stop staring into them.

“It’s not your fault,” Luka insists.

“Perhaps not intentional,” Sergio says and then he asks the question Luka has been dreading. “Was she angry because you’re my soulmate?”

Luka’s fragile sense of security shatters, his heartbeat skyrocketing.

He pulls his knees up on the couch and draws his head between his shoulders, finally breaking Sergio’s gaze. Luka finds a spot on the floor to stare at while he rehearses the answer in his head. He can’t believe he’s going to do this. But Sergio deserves to know the truth and Luka can’t live with all the lies any longer.

Luka takes too long to answer and Sergio heaves a sigh and fills in the silence. “Look, you kept it together well enough, I’ll give you that. But you were so unhappy about what happened. I get it, all right? I know how much family means to you.”

“You do,” Luka echoes. No matter what lies Luka feeds the others, Sergio always has a knack for seeing right through him. Sergio might not know the truth but he knows enough to be worried about Luka. And he cares, he obviously cares so much that he’d ditch his own family just to make sure Luka was okay. It wouldn’t be fair to keep lying to him.

“With the way you reacted after you came back from Zagreb, it was clear. And with my soulmark, I just…assumed,” Sergio says and at the same time he scratches over the cover of his soulmark. The movement draws Luka’s gaze.

“Assumed what?”

Sergio is silent, then he says, “That you were my soulmate. Is that why she’s not answering your calls?”

Luka’s throat constricts. “No, she doesn’t know that. Or at least I didn’t tell her,” he hears himself saying. “That’s not what disappointed her.”

“Then what was it?”

It was my wrist, Luka doesn’t say.

“Luka?”

“A misunderstanding. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sure,” Sergio drawls. His tone is mocking.

“Should’ve gone to my bed,” Luka groans, turning to his side on the couch.

Sergio must mishear because he says, “Nonsense, you can just stretch out over here.” He slips off the couch completely and holds out a hand for Luka. “How’s your head?”

“Fine, mostly,” Luka responds and lets himself get pulled to his feet. “God, how early is it?”

“Way too early. I’ll get you some water, go lie down,” Sergio says, gesturing to the bedroom.

Luka shuffles over to the bed and settles down, stretching out his limbs. There is an unpleasant twinge in his neck from the odd angle he slept in on the couch but the tension in his left shin is more ominous. It hasn’t eased off much since they came back from their not-skiing on the slopes. Luka gingerly prods it with his fingers.

“Here,” Sergio says and when Luka sits up, his fingers brush Luka’s wrist as he hands him the glass of water. Maybe it’s the angle rather than any intention but the moment Sergio’s fingers ghost over the removed soulmark, something makes Sergio suck in a sharp breath and Luka yanks his hand away, startled.

“Luka.”

Luka doesn’t make a peep, he couldn’t if he wanted to.

Sergio wavers but then he reaches out again, wrestles the glass from Luka’s fingers and sets it aside. Then he clasps Luka’s hand in his, his thumb curling around Luka’s wrist, gently stroking over the place where Luka’s soulmark used to be and where the second tattoo is now safely hidden under Luka’s cover.

“When I do this,” Sergio says. “I get this feeling. It’s beautiful, you know? I used to think it’s the soulbond that I feel. A little glimpse into what you’re feeling. I always thought it would be more intense but it was definitely something I could feel.”

“A-ha.” Luka has never felt anything and judging from Sergio’s pained expression, Sergio knows it.

“I didn’t realize that the bond I can feel is so weak because it’s only there on my end.”

“I’m sorry,” Luka whispers brokenly.

Sergio shakes his head. “Not your fault.”

Only, it is Luka’s fault. It is Luka’s fault, there is no going around the fact.

Luka has ripped the bond from his body and that’s the reason Sergio has only ever been able to feel a muted, dull version of their bond. Since it was weak enough to feel like a one-sided bond, Sergio convinced himself that was all there was to it. Sergio doubtlessly thinks that had the two of them been soulmates, he would be able to feel Luka. That Luka would feel the bond as well. Since they can’t feel each other’s emotions through the bond, they can’t be soulmates, that’s the only logical conclusion to reach. Right? Luka doesn’t know if telling Sergio the truth about the removed mark now would do any good. But the secret is sitting heavy on his conscience.

“I just want you to know about it,” Sergio goes on. “Because even though it is weak, it is still beautiful. It’s the purest feeling I’ve ever known and that’s just from this one-sided thing. When you meet Spomenka, it’s going to be beautiful.”

Luka’s admission is quiet, the words forced out with great effort. “I’m not going to meet her, Sergio.”

“Nonsense. Don’t talk like that, Lukita.”

There’s a sudden tightness in Luka’s throat and no words can make it past.

Sergio sits down on the bed as well, slings his arm behind Luka’s shoulders and pulls him closer. “You aren’t still thinking about getting rid of your soulmark, are you?”

Luka wonders if Sergio can feel how fast his heart is beating.

“It’s really not worth it. Not because of your mum or Gareth.”

Luka wants to tell him that Gareth has nothing to do with this but he still can’t speak around the lump in his throat.

“Lukita,” Sergio says, leaning into Luka. He’s so warm Luka unconsciously scuttles closer. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Luka’s voice is shaky, “Even if it’s something you don’t want to hear?”

“Especially then,” Sergio promises.

“Did you know,” Luka starts but he makes a pause and fills it with reaching for the glass of water and downing it, placing it back and staring at it, “that when people get their soulmark removed, a thin scar is left in its place? It’s how you can tell most fake marks.”

“You know an awful lot about that,” Sergio says with a frown and Luka knows he isn’t helping Sergio’s suspicions any since Sergio thinks Luka is set on getting his own soumlark removed. If only he knew.

“I know quite a bit,” he acknowledges. “Sergio. There’s no Spomenka. Definitely not for me. Definitely not as my soulmate.”

“Uh. What?”

Instead of the glass, Luka studies the snow on the window sill. It’s almost reaching the second window pane. “I wanted to tell you before, you know? I really did. After your car crash–”

“T’was just a scrape,” Sergio mumbles.

Luka squeezes his eyes tight. The window with the snow disappears but his problems remain. He’s fucking this up again.

“When I came to see you and we talked about getting a soulmark removed,” Luka prompts.

“I remember,” Sergio says curtly.

“Yeah. Well. I wasn’t talking about your mark. Or about Spomenka.”

“What?”

Luka nibbles on his lip, then rephrases. “I don’t plan to get rid of Spomenka’s name. I meant that I already got mine removed.”

“You what?”

“I wasn’t talking about Spomenka’s name. I got rid of yours,” Luka barks out, defeated, and waits for the storm to hit.

Chapter Text

The silence stretches thin, Luka can hear the air ringing with it. His heart is beating in his chest in desperate, powerful thumps. Luka blinks his eyes open and is met with Sergio’s dark, confused ones.

“That’s the truth,” Luka says. “That’s why my mum was so disappointed. Because I showed her my wrist and she realized Spomenka isn’t my soulmate. Never was.”

“Isn’t your– Luka, what are you blabbering about?” Sergio frowns, gesturing to Luka’s wrist. Luka has a sudden nonsensical urge to reach out and run his finger over the worried line that forms between Sergio’s brows and appears to be especially deep in the dimness of the room. But Luka stays still and Sergio goes on, “I saw it. I saw your mark, have you forgotten?”

“Definitely not,” Luka snaps and then immediately regrets his biting tone. What Sergio did – yanking off Luka’s cover to see the name Luka was hiding – seems rather insignificant now. What Luka did is far worse. Inexcusable. “But the name you saw wasn’t my soulmark. It was just a name, a tattoo to replace my soulmark so people won’t get suspicious. When you saw my wrist, the soulmark was already gone. And yes, it was our bond that I got rid of.”

“Our bond?” Sergio echoes, voice weak. Then comes the understanding. Luka can see it happen so slowly it’s physically painful. It’s not the enraged storm he expected to descend upon him but it’s the expression on Sergio’s face shutting down, it’s the confusion in his eyes giving way to despair, the spark in his eyes dimming, it’s the thin line of his lips that tells Luka that Sergio’s world is coming apart at seams. All Sergio believed in, ruined.

Luka can’t do anything but to watch helplessly as Sergio works through all the implications of what Luka is telling him. Sergio is in so much pain that Luka is hurting with it, too, just by witnessing it. He caused that. This pain. He put Sergio in this situation, he made sure Sergio won’t have the bond that Sergio’s soulmark granted for him. Luka robbed him of the chance to be truly happy, then lied to him and lied and lied.

“I’m sorry,” Luka says, keeping his voice quiet. Sergio’s gaze snaps up to him, focusing on Luka’s face and Luka tries not to squirm under the intensity of it. He sees the misery setting in Sergio’s eyes, he sees the way Sergio is losing grip on himself. “I’m sorry,” Luka says again and wonders why Sergio isn’t throwing his own words back at him. Luka would have, in Sergio’s place. He would yell that saying sorry won’t fix anything. Saying ‘sorry’ won’t change a thing; Luka refused the bond and that decision can’t be unmade.

“You refused our bond,” Sergio says eventually, after what could have been a minute or an hour.

“Yes,” Luka says. He refused it because of the wrongness of the double soul. There was no other option but to refuse the bond. Where Luka comes from, this kind of bonding is not okay. It’s even less okay for someone who is under the keen observation of the public eye. Even though times have changed, it’s still not okay now and it definitely wasn’t okay when Luka was growing up. Luka couldn’t have had Sergio’s name on his wrist if he wanted to do the type of sport he does now. He wouldn’t want to be a disappointment to his family.

“I wanted to play football,” Luka says. “There was no other option.” When Luka got the soulmark, he didn’t want to lose what he achieved in his career. He wanted to keep playing, keep getting better. If someone had seen Sergio’s name on his wrist, Luka would have paid a severe price. It would have been the end to his career.

Sergio’s name on Luka’s wrist would bring shame on the family – even nowadays, people would talk and they would look at Luka and his family differently. His mother would be heartbroken and his sisters shunned for something that wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t Luka’s fault either, he never asked to have Sergio’s name on his wrist in the first place. He never wanted it. The name, the mark – a clear sign to everyone else that something wasn’t right with him.

Luka used to hate the name to the point where he agreed to undergo the surgery at the shady clinic the first chance he got. His first proper pay check had taken a considerable dent because he wanted to get the soulmark removed as soon as possible. Funny how he thought he had precisely calculated how much it would cost him to have the thin soulmarked stripe of skin removed. But as a kid, he was only thinking about the money necessary for the actual surgery. Removing the mark, stitching the skin back together, waiting for the wound to heal and the scar to set and finding someone discreet enough to tattoo over it a few months later.

Luka hadn’t foreseen this. The price he continues to pay, years later. The wound that never healed. The guilt. The regret. The wet gleam in Sergio’s eyes.

“Sergio?” Luka asks, tentative.

In the blink of an eye, Sergio’s expression becomes completely unreadable and Luka feels the icy prick of panic because Sergio is always like an open book to him. “Luka,” Sergio says and Luka has hard time recognizing Sergio’s voice it sounds so strange, “You aren’t making any sense.”

Luka has no strength for this anymore. He draws in a breath, recalls the explanation just the way he had practiced it during the sleepless nights. He counts to ten. “Sergio.”

“What?”

“When I was twelve,” Luka says with only a slight waver to his voice, a sentence he’s said many times in his mind but never once out loud, “I got my soulmark removed.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Luka looks everywhere except at Sergio because he’s afraid he would fall apart.

Sergio doesn’t say anything.

Luka starts fidgeting. This is where things can go horribly wrong. Sergio would be right to never forgive him. He screwed them over. He tanked any chance of happiness they might have ever had before he even met Sergio.

Luka blinks a few times, tries to keep the tears in check. He fixes his eyes on a lone dark shadow on the ceiling. Slides his gaze to one corner, then the next. He needs something to keep his mind occupied else his thoughts will inevitably lead him to panicking. The sky is clearing behind the window.

Sergio’s voice is too loud in the quiet room, it comes like a crack of the whip, unfamiliar and harsh. “But you said you weren’t my soulmate,” he says. “I remember when you told me that.”

“Because I’m not your soulmate anymore, Sergio! I don’t have a soulmark,” Luka says and it’s a miracle that his voice doesn’t break and his tears don’t fall.

“What does that to do with anything?”

“I can’t have a soulbond because I don’t have the soulmark, so you can’t be my soulmate,” Luka says.

“Why the hell not?” Sergio asks and he sounds furious.

Luka struggles to put the answer into words. “I can’t bond with you. I refused you.”

Sergio is silent for a moment and Sergio is never this silent or this still. His expression remains blank. “Marce was right after all,” Sergio says eventually. “You never stopped for a second to think how I’d feel.”

Luka snaps, defensive, “You shouldn’t have felt anything. I got rid of the mark and that should have gotten rid of the bond!”

“The mark is just a part of the bond,” Sergio says. “A part of it! You cut the connection between us, not the bond itself.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize there was a difference.” Getting his unwanted soulmark removed was a good decision and Luka has never questioned his reasoning. It got him what he wanted. Or so Luka thought.

Sergio’s voice is colder than the ice storm that has been raging outside last night. “I figured.”

It’s impossibly hard to acknowledge, even to himself, that his youthful calculations could have been wrong. If getting rid of the soulmark really was a mistake, then the consequences were so severe there was no rectifying it. If what Luka did was wrong, then the whole life that lead him up to this point has been nothing but a mistake and the mere thought makes Luka feel like he’s standing on a thin ice and the ice is creaking ominously underneath his feet. One more wrong step and he’d plummet into the deadly depths of icy cold waters.

Before Luka can decide what to do or what to say next, Sergio is suddenly grabbing his shoulders and in the next second, Luka is pushed through the connecting doors back into his room.

“I can’t even look at you right now,” Sergio growls and slams the door to Luka’s stunned face.

There is a brief moment of quiet in which Luka can’t hear anything but his own ragged breathing that clashes with the desperate pounding of his heart, then there are two loud thuds against the door as Sergio likely slams his hand against it. A few muttered curses and then there is a fury of motion from the other room.

Luka can hear the curtains, can hear the overhead light being switched and buzzing to life with a low hum, can hear the drawers being yanked open and wardrobe doors slammed shut and he realizes with a sinking feeling that Sergio is packing his things to leave.

There are still two days left to their winter holidays and tonight should have been especially delightful, with the night skiing allowed on the slopes from six to ten ending with fireworks.

Luka is frozen to the spot by the door where Sergio pushed him, listening to Sergio getting ready to leave in a hurry.

Luka has no clue how much time passes but there is much more daylight in the room when he hears the click of the door opening again.

Luka hasn’t moved an inch from his spot and Sergio stills when he sees him. He eyes Luka warily, then he lets out al long exhale. “You got rid of your bloody soulmark,” he says and when Luka nods in a confirmation, Sergio goes on, “Do you… can you feel anything?”

‘Too much,’ Luka wants to say but he knows Sergio is referring to their bond so he says, “No.”

“They say that if you lose your mark, your heart turns to ice,” Sergio says quietly.

Luka’s throat works in silence a few times, he can’t find his voice because he’s heard it as well, that the people who don’t have a mark don’t have feelings either. No feelings for their soulmate, no human compassion whatsoever. It’s been said that they are no better than unfeeling monsters and Luka has wondered if he is one of them because he has no way of telling if what he feels is any different from what the others can feel.

“When you lost your mark,” Sergio says and his voice is laced with the same pain Luka saw mirroring in his eyes earlier, “you lost your connection to feeling for others, right? Like they say in the stories.”

When the soulmark was torn away from Luka, it made his soul bleed, guilt seeping through his veins like poison, numbing his feelings. But it didn’t vanish them. “It’s not true, what they say in the stories,” Luka wheezes out. “I do have feelings…” He trails off and hopes that Sergio understands.

Sergio lets out a hum. “You said you were twelve?”

“Right,” Luka says and a small sliver of hope raises in his chest. Sergio isn’t shouting and his eyes are expressive again. The pain in them is not something Luka likes seeing but it’s better than the unreadable stare from before.

“You didn’t know me when you were twelve,” Sergio says and Luka can’t quite tell if it’s meant to be a question or not but he answers anyway.

“I didn’t.”

“So,” Sergio drawls the sound but then he decides to power through with the rest of the sentence, “you didn’t reject me. Personally. You just–”

“Rejected the idea of a male soulmate,” Luka confirms. “It’s not common in my country to… entertain these bonds,” he says and then internally winces over sounding like his mother.

“Let me see it,” Sergio demands out of the blue.

“Um.” Luka’s attention shifts once again to Sergio’s eyes because the intensity in Sergio’s gaze is captivating.

“The scar, Luka. Please, let me see it,” Sergio says, shifting just a step closer and gesturing to Luka’s cover. This time, Luka gets the meaning and whatever hope he was feeling is crushed that instant.

“I can’t,” he croaks. He can’t let Sergio see his wrist because there is something else running over the scar, something new and something Luka didn’t plan on Sergio finding about like this. There is no way Sergio is learning about Luka having put a tattoo of Sergio’s name over the scar when he’s this mad at Luka.

Sergio’s expression turns to disbelief first and to offence second but the rage still doesn’t come. Instead, Sergio lets out a defeated sigh. “You’ll never stop keeping secrets, will you.”

“Sergio, I–”

He startles when Sergio suddenly hauls him into a hug. Sergio has always been a victim to his own impulses but Luka doesn’t waste a moment and wraps his arms around Sergio. Luka should be long used to Sergio’s hot-headed actions, rash decisions and heartfelt apologies but the words that tumble out of Sergio’s mouth next still catch Luka completely by surprise.

“I’m sorry that it was me,” Sergio says. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“Sergio,” Luka chokes out. He wraps his arms around Sergio’s shoulders and brings them closer. He waits until Sergio relaxes into the embrace and then he tips his head up and presses a quick peck to Sergio’s cheek. “You could never disappoint me. You never have. Not once since I’ve met you.”

“Liar,” Sergio mumbles quietly but Luka catches the sound and clenches his arms around Sergio.

“I’m sorry, too,” Luka says and he truly is sorry, about every single lie he’s told and every lie he let Sergio believe to be true. But being sorry won’t magically fix things between them.

Sergio doesn’t say anything but he’s not trying to get away from Luka anymore so Luka will take that.

Chapter Text

Luka is thoroughly exhausted when they come back from the night skiing. He flops down on Sergio’s couch and gingerly prods his left shin; it’s all tense and knotted. Sergio is fluttering around, hastily packing his things for real this time. It’s the last night here, tomorrow night they’d be on the plane back to Madrid and it’s only a few minutes till midnight. Luka has already packed everything so he teases Sergio with little comments as Sergio tries not to leave anything behind.

“How come you have more things than when we arrived?” Luka asks, watching as Sergio tries to wrestle his luggage into submission by kneeling on it and trying to get it shut.

“It’s a talent,” Sergio grunts and then lets out a triumphant noise when the lock clicks into place. He lies over it, immobile for a few minutes, then he grabs his phone and starts poking at it.

Luka stretches out his neck, trying to see the screen. “What are you doing?”

“Setting the alarm,” Sergio says, confirming Luka’s suspicion.

“What? Why? I want to sleep in,” Luka whines, getting up and peering over Sergio’s shoulder to see what time Sergio expects them to get up.

Sergio jumps up on his feet and stretches out his arm to keep his phone at a safe distance from Luka. “No one is forcing you to join me. I’m not about to miss going out for a run in the morning. Nothing like the cold air and fresh snow.”

“Nothing like a slippery slope and a few broken bones, you mean?”

“Take that back,” Sergio hollers and then promptly tackle-hugs Luka, throwing them both on the couch. They bounce where they land and Sergio squeezes Luka closer to keep him from toppling to the ground. “Whoa, you okay?”

“No,” Luka wheezes. “You’re crushing me.” Sergio is not but Luka wants the tight grip Sergio has on him to loosen a little so Luka can lunge for the phone.

“Ah, am I?” If anything, Sergio’s embrace gets tighter. Luka tries to wiggle out but Sergio says, “Nu-uh, you’re not going anywhere.”

Luka guesses he’s really not going anywhere so he lets himself melt into it, his whole posture going lax. He’ll just have to wait Sergio out, lull him into thinking Luka won’t put up any resistance and then snatch the phone when Sergio is least expecting it.

It all passes in a blur and then Luka is back in Madrid. The last couple of days of their vacation in the Alps is nothing but a distant memory filled with snowboarding and odd silences between him and Sergio. It’s not like there was a lot of time to talk while they were on the snowy slopes of the mountains so at first Luka doesn’t notice the slight stillness that is now present between them. Sergio acts normally, talking to Luka, teasing back and forth. They enjoy their stay till the very last moment and the trip back to Spain is long enough to let them catch up on the sleep they’ve missed.

It’s not until they’re at Real’s get-together party that it occurs to Luka that Sergio is keeping his distance, that he’s got his guard up around Luka. They haven’t exchanged more than five sentences the whole night and sure, they’ve spent so much time together the past week that it’s only fair that the captain is dividing his attention to other people but it feels odd not to have Sergio by his side.

Sergio is talking animatedly with Dani, Benze and Isco and Luka isn’t sure if he should join them or if he should leave Sergio alone. It looks like Sergio is having a good time but without him around, Luka is enjoying himself considerably less.

“There it is, the lovelorn gaze I’ve been missing!”

Luka startles, turning around to see Marce’s grinning face seconds before he’s hauled into a tight hug.

“I’ve missed seeing your stupid face,” Marce goes on. “Not your stupidity though. What is it this time? Sergio wouldn’t tell me.”

“Probably for a good reason,” Luka says.

Marce squeezes Luka within an inch of his life before abruptly letting go. “Ugh, what would I do without the two of you, everything was so normal!”

“I hope you enjoyed your peace and quiet while you had the chance, you grandpa. Say, did you get new slippers for Christmas? Some woollen socks, maybe?”

Marce playfully smacks the side of Luka’s head. “No beer for you,” he threatens and Luka belatedly notices the crate of beer at Marce’s feet. “But I got you something else,” he says. “Catch.”

Luka manages to catch the small object and the wrapping comes off while he does so. A small bottle of a bright pink nail polish falls into Luka’s palm. Luka stares at it. “Um. Thanks?”

Marce cracks up and grabs his phone. “Sergio sent me a picture,” he explains.

Luka glances at the screen; Marcelo is showing him a picture of Luka’s painted nails and Rosa’s grinning face in the background. Luka has no clue when Sergio managed to take it.

“I couldn’t say no to her,” he admits.

“Called it,” Marce says, pocketing his phone, reaching into the crate for one of the beer bottles and struggling to get it open by using his house keys. “You’d bend over backwards for that kid. Ruth, wasn’t it?”

“Rosa,” Luka corrects him automatically.

“You’ve just proven my point,” Marcelo says, his grin widening even further. He finally gets the bottle opened and he offers it to Luka.

“I thought I’m not allowed any beer.”

Marce waves it off, then gestures to where Sergio is standing. “Go join them, I need to find some openers.”

“Oh, wait,” Luka says, remembering. “I also got you something as a Christmas present,” he adds, pressing a small parcel into Marcelo’s hand before wandering to join the others.

“The weather was great,” Sergio is saying to Isco who is standing in a half-circle around Sergio together with Toni and Lucas. Dani and Benze are nowhere in sight.

“A snowstorm or two aside,” Luka cuts in. Sergio just rolls his eyes and moves aside to make space for Luka. If Luka didn’t know any better, he’d never guess anything was amiss between them.

“Nothing major,” Sergio says. “If the weather was bad, we’d just stay in and watch some films.”

“Oh? What did you watch?” Toni asks, perking up. “Did you watch Berlin Calling like I said you should?”

“We did.”

“…and?”

“Hm, it was okay,” Sergio says.

“But it was a close call,” Luka adds and quickly sidesteps the kick Sergio aims at him.

Isco laughs at them and Toni clucks his tongue. “Here, let me write you a few more recommendations.”

“We’ve already seen the Slender Man one,” Luka says, looking over Toni’s list.

“Ja? Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah, it was peaceful,” Luka acknowledges, making Toni splutter.

“Peaceful! The fuck it was!”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sergio says, placing a placating arm around Toni’s back. “He fell asleep within the first fifteen minutes!”

“Yes, exactly! It was peaceful,” Luka insists but judging from the look on Toni’s face, he’s not swayed.

Marce finds then at that moment and he wastes no time grabbing Toni by his elbow, shaking him a bit as he demands an answer, “Do I seem neurotic to you?”

“Ja, natür– naturally,” Toni nods his head, giving Marce an encouraging smile like it’s a good thing.

Marce lets him go with a curse and turns to Lucas. “Really?”

“All the time,” Lucas says and Marce’s eyes flash ominously.

“What’s going on?” Sergio asks.

“Luka gave me a fidget spinner,” Marce informs Sergio, shoving the spinner in front of Sergio’s nose.

“Cool! I’m surprised you didn’t have one already,” Sergio comments, snatching the spinner from Marce to try it out.

Marce throws his hands up. “You’re awful, all of you!”

“I thought you’ve missed us,” Luka says and hides his smile behind his drink. Marce grabs his neck and pretends to choke him and it’s a wonder Luka doesn’t spill the beer over both of them.

“Where did you get beer?” Lucas takes a sudden notice.

“Marce brought it.”

Marce waves his hand in the general direction where there is more beer to be acquired. “Knock yourself out.”

Toni nudges Lucas and they head to get the beer.

“Leave some for us,” Sergio says and hurries to catch up with them, dragging Isco along.

Luka watches after them but he doesn’t realize he’s doing it until Marce elbows his side. “Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?”

“What?”

“You had that look on your face when I first came in,” Marce says with a shrug.

“I’m fine,” Luka says and ignores Marce’s dubious look.

“Luka, you need to forgive,” Marce says.

Luka turns to him, sharply. “I have nothing to forgive him, he did nothing wrong.”

Marce shakes his head. “You need to forgive yourself.”

“Um, what?”

Marce heaves a sigh. “I don’t believe in the double soul nonsense and Sergio sure as hell doesn’t either. You’re his soulmate and I hope you realize what that means.”

Luka doesn’t get any answer out of him.

“It means you’re getting your shit together!”

“It won’t affect the match with Villarreal,” Luka assures.

“That’s not what I’m talking about at all! Forget about the games, think about how it’s affecting Sergio!”

“Sergio is doing fine,” Luka says but his tone lacks conviction.

Marce’s voice quiets down. “He’s really not.”

“But I’m not mad at him.”

Marcelo levels Luka with a weird look. “You realize that had it been anyone else but you, Sergio would sock them in their face and leave them for dead, right? But you – you know he’d forgive you anything, right?”

Luka didn’t know. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. Look, Sergio wouldn’t tell me what it is you did but he’s already forgiven you. So like I said, now you need to forgive yourself as well.”

Chapter Text

Gareth is sitting alone and drinking beer when Luka finds him.

“Hey.” Gareth grins loosely, waving to Luka with the hand in which he’s holding his beer.

“No painkillers tonight?” Luka guesses. Gareth shakes his head and Luka clings his bottle against Gareth’s in acknowledgement.

“Take a seat.” Gareth blinks up at him. “Hey. Someone looks unhappy. Rough time during the holidays?”

“Yes,” Luka says simply. “You?”

Gareth shrugs and doesn’t elaborate.

Luka decides to change the subject. “Do you think Sergio would forgive me anything?”

Gareth’s face scrunches up as if he bit into a lemon. “Of course. Why? What are you planning?”

“It’s already done,” Luka sighs.

“Then it’s already forgiven,” Gareth says sagely, making Luka crack up.

“How do you know?”

“He didn’t kill you, did he? Isn’t that enough of a proof?”

“I guess,” Luka relents. “But he’s not very forgiving, is he?”

Gareth snorts. “Mate, I don’t know what to tell you,” he says but then continues, “I mean, it’s you. It’s not like he’d hold grudges against his soulmate.”

With his cheeks warming up, Luka begins to protest at being called Sergio’s soulmate but Gareth keeps talking.

“Just be glad you found him in time.”

Luka’s protests die on his lips when he hears that because everything his mind comes up with sounds stupid compared to Gareth’s pain.

In the following silence, Gareth finishes his beer and reaches for another bottle, apparently determined not to see the beginning of the New Year sober. Luka remembers Gareth calling this particular brand that Toni prefers ‘rubbish’ but it seems that tonight, Gareth doesn’t mind.

Luka watches him struggle with the lid. “You know, Marce had some openers for that.”

“Nice.” Gareth nods at Luka. “Could you grab one for me?”

“Sure,” Luka says, happy to have a reason to escape the sudden glum atmosphere.

The openers are nowhere to be found but Luka has no trouble locating Marce who is on the terrace with Sergio. He means to go over and ask about the openers but the two don’t notice him coming and Luka overhears a part of their conversation that really shouldn’t be as shocking as it is.

“–think I said he doesn’t feel anything but Marcelo, I know that’s not true,” Sergio is saying and it’s not until Luka is this close to them that he realizes they’re talking about him.

“I know you love him but it doesn’t mean you should–”

Aghast, Luka tries to get away. He hurriedly takes step back before the two of them notice Luka is standing there but he forgets about the stupid sliding door and he bumps into the invisible obstacle with an audible thump.

Marce and Sergio abruptly fall silent and Luka gets out an embarrassed dry laugh.

Sergio’s face splits into a huge grin. “Lukita!” He calls out, much louder than necessary. “A bit too much to drink, had you?”

Luka manages another chuckle. “Not near enough.”

Sergio laughs and says, “C’mere.” Luka walks to him as if he was under a spell. Sergio’s fingers flutter over his head, checking for any injuries before settling on Luka’s shoulder, comfortingly heavy. “We were just talking about you,” Sergio admits guilelessly.

“Oh, were you?” Luka does his best to sound surprised.

“Yeah,” Sergio agrees enthusiastically but then he trails of as the common sense catches up with him. “We were just talking about…” His eyes go wide and he turns to send Marce a pleading look.

“About your holidays in the Alps,” Marce fills in after a beat. “About how nice it was of Sergio to take you there since your folks were being assholes.”

“Marcelo,” Sergio hisses.

“It was nice of him, we had a great time,” Luka admits, probably just as thankful for Marce’s diversion as Sergio.

“They didn’t try to get in touch at all?”

“No,” Luka says, leaning into Sergio’s warmth.

“How about your dad?” Marce asks, completely ignoring Sergio’s eye twitch of a warning.

“I paid him a visit a few weeks ago while I was in Zagreb. Read him his newspapers, talked for a while,” Luka hears himself replying. Luka remembers the evening in vivid details; buying the newspaper father always read, sitting by his bed and quietly reading all the articles, moving from back to front until there was nothing else to read and nothing else to comment on so they had just been quiet together.

Sergio squeezes his shoulder. He has yet to let go of Luka.

“I’m sorry,” Marce says, shifting from one foot to another.

“It’s what it is,” Luka says. “How about you and Clarice? Have your kids enjoyed their presents?”

Complete with sharing pictures on his phone, Marce tells them all the funny stories that somehow always seem to be happening to him and Luka forgets himself for a moment, leaning back against Sergio and relaxing, enthralled by Marce’s tales. Sergio adds some tales of his own and even if he’s talking about the things that happened to both of them – like the dining hall being placed outside of the hotel – Sergio somehow makes it sound way funnier than Luka ever could. It’s familiar and comforting and Luka is pleased by the absence of the previous tense silences between him and Sergio.

Then Marce is gone and Sergio disappears somewhere for a moment as well and Luka watches the lights of the city shining dimly in the distance. It’s a beautiful night, it’s not even all that cold. Luka takes a generous gulp of his beer and he finally feels centred.

“Gimme that,” Sergio says, materializing to Luka’s left so suddenly Luka almost startles. But it’s Sergio so Luka doesn’t startle, not even when Sergio steps closer and takes Luka’s beer from him to set it aside on the railing. “There’s champagne!”

In the next moment, Luka is holding a glass of champagne. He glances up at Sergio who is focusing on the task of pouring himself a glass as well.

In the garden bellow them, someone starts shouting and a little while later, the first fireworks make it to the midnight sky. Luka didn’t realize it was getting that late.

“To the new year?” Luka suggests tentatively.

Sergio looks at him, eyes half-lidded. “And to new fuck-ups.”

Their eyes lock, neither of them seem to be able to look away. Sergio’s eyes are dark, his pupils almost melting into his irises in the dim light. Luka can’t stand it, the intent way they watch each other. “Happy New Year,” Luka croaks. His throat is dry, his voice raspy.

With a soft smile, Sergio leans down and presses a slow, unhurried kiss to Luka’s left cheek, then his right. “Happy New Year, Luka,” he says and he’s so close Luka can feel the words against his own lips.

Luka’s heart is beating madly in his chest and he doesn’t realize he’s waiting for it, waiting for a third kiss, until Sergio draws back, his head already turning up to watch the sky. Sergio holds up his glass in a toast and then takes a sip as more fireworks light up the sky close by. The reflections of the lights catch on Sergio’s face, turning it blue and red and green.

Luka realizes he’s still staring. He clears his throat and Sergio tears his eyes away from the sky, raising an eyebrow at Luka when Luka doesn’t say anything.

It’s not like they didn’t exchange kisses before, while being drunk, while celebrating or while winning trophies together. Innocent, happy kisses, much like Sergio did just now. Luka can’t puzzle out why this time feels so different.

The sliding door is pried open, none too gently, and it’s the creak of protest that has Luka turning away from Sergio.

“There you are!” Dani exclaims. “Learn to share, Luka. You shouldn’t keep him all the time,” he says and then he’s grabbing Sergio’s elbow, spilling the rest of Sergio’s champagne and dragging Sergio away. “I was promised cocktails!”

Before Luka knows it, Sergio is walking away, laughing at something Dani is telling him and Luka is left standing there, completely frozen to his spot and not paying the remaining fireworks any mind. Sergio walked away like nothing happened, and nothing did but Luka can’t get the moment out of his mind. It’s flashing in front of his eyes over and over again until a single realization crystallizes. He wanted Sergio to kiss him.

Luka’s mind is whirling, he doesn’t know what to do or what to think. In a daze, he sneaks out of the party because he thinks he sees the blue flash of Naranča’s hair and he is in no shape to hold a conversation with either her or Marco. He gets himself a cab back to his house. He doesn’t remember the trip back, one moment he can still hear the loud music from the party and the next thing he knows, the cab is pulling over in front of his house and he’s reaching for his wallet.

It’s not until he’s flipping the switch in the hallway and watching as light spills into the darkened house that he realizes he never brought Gareth the opener.

Chapter Text

The day before they’re expected to show up for the game against Villarreal seems endless to Luka. He keeps turning around to say something to Sergio only to realize they are no longer on holiday and Sergio isn’t there with him. He goes through his regular workout that leaves him so tired he barely musters enough energy to put together quick kale salad for lunch. He shovels it down in silence, thinking about how strange it is that Sergio isn’t here to make faces at Luka’s choices of meal while they watch something on the TV.

Luka switches the TV on but after several minutes of idly flipping through the channels and not settling on anything, he turns it off again. Maybe it’s Sergio’s remarks, maybe it’s his contagious enthusiasm about everything that he does. Maybe it’s just the comfortable way they fit together. It’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous that he misses Sergio when they’d spent so much time together recently that Luka should be tired of seeing Sergio’s stupid face all the time. It’s like Dani said, Luka has no claim over Sergio’s free time. Luka knows this, objectively, but it does nothing to soothe the ache in his chest.

It doesn’t make any sense. Marcelo called him Sergio’s soulmate and so did Gareth but if Sergio told them anything, it wouldn’t have been this. They aren’t soulmates, him and Sergio. Soulmates have each other’s soulmarks. Soulmates have a bond between them, a unique bond of deep understanding, a way of communicating that is so intimate it’s completely incomprehensible for anyone else. Luka can’t offer Sergio that. The soulmark Luka got rid off had shattered their link as well. Luka shouldn’t feel anything. But he does. And Sergio does too, Luka heard him say it to Marce at the party. That doesn’t make any sense either because Luka told Sergio about the missing mark. Sergio should know they can never be soulmates and yet he still said those words that keep echoing in Luka’s mind over and over.

Luka keeps checking his phone out of habit to see if Sergio texted him but his phone remains silent. No dinner plans are made. Luka is pretty sure it’s his turn to host Sergio over at his place but since Sergio isn’t reaching out, Luka doesn’t want to seem too needy. The evening drags on and Luka ends up at Nadya’s for dinner. Nadya is behind the counter, too busy to stop and chat with Luka but not busy enough not to notice Luka’s sad and confused state of being.

“What’s this?” Luka asks because he’s sure he just asked for the bell peppers that are stuffed with a delightful mix of ground meat, rice and carrots.

“Desert,” Nadya says in the tone that bears no arguments and she stares at Luka until he takes the additional plate with sweet künefe as well.

“Scoot over,” Sergio says and Luka is moving before he can think it through. He was occupying the aisle seat, legs sprawled, earbuds in, pretending to be on the verge of dozing off to make sure no one would end up in the other seat next to him. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone but Sergio obviously chose to disregard the warning signs.

Luka settles into the window seat instead and Sergio stretches into Luka’s previous seat, leg bouncing. They are about to play the first game of the calendar year and Sergio looks tired already. Maybe he stayed at the party longer than expected and didn’t quite manage to recuperate yesterday. Luka plucks at one of his earbuds and leaves it hanging down his neck. It’s not like he’s been paying the story he was listening to much mind. “Hey,” he says. “You’re not nervous, are you? About the game I mean.”

Sergio keeps his head against the headrest, tilting it to glance at Luka. “It’s more of a nervous excitement,” Sergio says. “Like, I know the team is in a good place but we haven’t been out there for so long.”

“We’ve got a good track record against Villarreal, especially at their stadium,” Luka responds immediately because this is something he can do. It feels normal. It doesn’t make his heart flutter wildly like it does when Marce pushes through the aisle past them, not even saying anything, just glancing between Sergio and Luka and waggling his eyebrows.

“Villarreal are on a losing streak,” Sergio acknowledges.

“So what is it, then? Are you worried about Case?” It’s the only change that comes to Luka’s mind. Llorente got injured so now it will be Case guarding the centre midfield.

“Between you and Toni? Not in particular. It’s Moreno in their offence I’ll have to keep a close eye on.”

They keep discussing the upcoming game for quite some time, until Sergio’s responses grow slow and short.

Luka steals another long glance at him. Sergio looks bone tired, slumping in his seat and sure enough, he’s almost asleep. Sergio is just an arm-reach away but there is something about the way he holds himself around Luka these days that stops Luka from shifting to cover the remaining distance, something that stops him from placing his legs into Sergio’s lap or nuzzling closer.

Then Luka realizes what he’s thinking and he glances away guiltily, staring out of the window instead and trying not to focus on Sergio’s reflection in the glass.

He slips the earbud back in his ear and puts on some music because he knows he won’t be able to focus on the story at all. It’s fine at first but then some stupid dance song comes up and all of the sudden Luka’s breath hitches and he’s remembering things he thought he got out of his head and he’s definitely thinking about things he shouldn’t be allowing himself to think about.

He almost jumps out of his skin when Sergio places his hand over Luka’s knee, patting him comfortingly, once, twice and then stilling his hand so it’s simply resting there, touching Luka, fingers curling into his thigh. Luka can feel where the edge of Sergio’s cover begins and ends. Luka’s expression must have given him away – but when Luka dares to look over at Sergio, Sergio has his eyes closed and he appears to be dozing off. Luka’s fingers itch to reach down and entwine with Sergio’s.

Luka takes a deep breath and tries not to freak out.

On the pitch, just before the match begins, they receive the guard of honour from Villarreal. It’s good to be reminded of their success, even though it seems that Real’s victory against Al Ain in the Club World Cup took place ages ago.

Four minutes into the game, Villarreal scores their first goal. Despite the brief look him and Sergio share, things aren’t quite lost just yet. Lucas sends the ball to Benze and the score is evened in the seventh minute. Luka himself has a great chance to score but even though he pushes the ball with his eyes it only kisses the outside of the goal post. He lets himself have a moment to catch his breath, lying on his back on the grass, chest heaving, trying to get his mindset right. They haven’t lost yet, even if Luka already feels this win slipping through their fingers.

Sergio towers above him, hands reaching down to pull Luka up on his feet again so Luka heaves himself up with the little help and survives the rest of the game. Rapha scores a sweet header off Toni’s pass but things go downhill in the second half as Cazorla slips past them again and nets his second goal that equalizes the score to 2–2.

Luka is on the brink of creating another great chance for Benze but Bacca robs him of the ball and helps him to the ground with his elbow. Sergio is glaring daggers at the guy but Luka is back on his feet and the game resumes quick enough. Bacca doesn’t even get a warning. Sometime into the second half, Luka is subbed off again and so is Gareth, so they sit on the bench, eyes glued to the pitch.

“Rubbish,” Gareth keeps muttering under his breath and Luka silently agrees.

About three minutes before the game is over, Bacca gets to the ball again but his chance doesn’t get anywhere because Sergio dashes forward, full of fire. His eyes are wild and his expression livid as he stops Bacca with a harsh tackle. Luka and Garth are on their feet that instant but there’s not much they can do from the sideline, except join Solari in his shouting.

Thankfully, Marce gets between them while Case and Benze pull Sergio away from Bacca before Sergio could pulverize the poor guy to the ground. Somehow, Sergio only ends up with a yellow card. They still lose the game.

Luka manages to keep his mouth shut until they’re in the lockers but the moment the press is out of sight, Luka whirls around to snarl at Sergio. “What the fuck was that, Sergio?” Out of the corner of his eye, Luka sees Vini’s eyes go wide and his shoulders tense. Vini would never dare to address his captain like that but Luka isn’t Vini and he’s furious with Sergio. “What was that?” Luka demands again when Sergio doesn’t respond. There is no doubt in Luka’s mind that Sergio knows exactly what incident is Luka talking about and when Sergio finally speaks, he proves Luka right.

“He could have hurt you!” Sergio points out in a low hiss. Behind his shoulder, Luka sees Gareth rolling his eyes.

“He didn’t,” Luka bites out. He doesn’t need being handled with kid gloves and Sergio knows this, he knows Luka can look out for himself.

“But he could have,” Sergio repeats stubbornly.

Luka doesn’t answer him. In fact, he goes out of his way to make sure his and Sergio’s paths don’t cross for the rest of the day so Luka doesn’t have to talk to him. It’s infuriating; he’s mad at Sergio and yet he still wants to see him. He’s holed up in his hotel room, retired for the night, when Marce pounds on his door.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Um,” Luka says and gestures behind his back into the room where the TV is on so it looks like Luka is in the middle of watching a film. Luka prays Marce doesn’t ask him what he’s watching because Luka has no clue. Mostly, he’s been staring out of his little balcony, catching a glimpse of the sea in the distance and yearning for things he can’t have.

Marce all but facepalms. “Get dressed, you idiot, have you forgotten about the dinner with the sponsors?”

“Oh. Right. In a second,” Luka says, hastily backtracking. “I forgot about the time,” he lies. The meeting has slipped his mind completely.

Marce ushers him along and in no time Luka is seated at the table between Gareth and Sergio.

Solari is seated at the table close to them, together with some people Luka doesn’t know, likely the sponsors. Luka plasters on a smile just in case they’ll start making rounds around the room to meet the players.

“Have you tasted this wine, Gaz?” Sergio asks, good naturedly, grabbing one of the empty glasses and pouring it full for Gareth.

Gareth hasn’t touched a drop and Luka knows he’s on painkillers again. He sat with the guy on the bench, he noticed.

He quickly intercepts the glass, stealing it for himself. “He already said it’s too dry to his tastes,” he tells Sergio and avoids the kick Gareth aims at him under the table. “I love it, though.”

Luka doesn’t have to look at Gareth to know there’s a dark expression on his face. With the injury Gareth renewed, it would be a miracle if he plays in the next game. What a start of the year this has been.

“I’ll go talk to Vini,” Gareth says as he makes his escape before Sergio gets any more bright ideas. “Guy looks a little overwhelmed.”

Which momentarily leaves Luka at the table with Sergio and it’s really hard to focus on the story Sergio is telling because Luka’s mind is all over the place.

Sergio pauses halfway through a sentence and Luka glances up with a guilty smile. “Sorry, I’m not a very good company tonight.” It seems that guilt is all he feels these days.

Sergio reaches over, hand closing around Luka’s shoulder in a grip that’s near bruising. It sounds more like a wish than a resolve when Sergio says, “We’ll be better against Sociedad.”

Chapter Text

They aren’t any better in the next game. If anything, they are worse. They’re giving away free chances and Real Sociedad is there so punish every little hesitation.

The first goal comes from a penalty kick in the third minute, Case clipping Merino, one of Sociedad’s midfielders. The stadium is hushed in disbelief at Real’s home performance but the silence eventually gives way to murmurs of disapproval. Marce keeps getting whistled from their fans and he’s not the only one. Benze has a few chances but those don’t lead anywhere and though Toni is on his mark, Rulli is guarding Sociedad’s goal like a hawk. Case and Luka try to bring the game forward but Gareth is out injured and Isco is benched once again so the best Luka can do is try to help keep their head above the water. Luka shoots a few times and even fires off one truly promising shot but Rulli denies him and he is ready for Vini and Sergio’s attempts as well.

Solari is pacing back and forth, hand fiddling with his tie. That is never a good sign. Luka sees Solari’s restlessness and mentally prepares for a long pep talk during the halftime break. The stadium is tense and it doesn’t really help Luka’s mood when he sees Sergio get taken down without the chance to take a spot kick in retaliation. The referee doesn’t even blink as he waves off the incident and it makes Luka livid.

Isco comes on the pitch in the second half but their situation is not to be improved. Merino is causing them troubles again and it all goes downhill quickly when Lucas gets a red card, being sent off after earning himself a second yellow for his overeager stoppage of Merino’s counter-attack. Being down a player when Sociedad is out for blood is tough enough but the referee seems to have it out for Real in particular. He even turns a blind eye to a clear penalty – Vini goes down hard. The whole game is a mess. Marce and Isco get a yellow and Luka does too, for not quite managing to reel in his emotions when the referee makes yet another questionable decision. When the final whistle blows, the score is 0-2 and Real suffers a bitter defeat.

Stomping off the pitch, lips drawn thin, Luka hears Sergio being interviewed by the ever-nosy press. Sergio is lying through his teeth, insisting that everything is fine, this just wasn’t their day. Yes, their focus is on the next game, yes, of course they’re ready to bounce back against Leganes.

Luka wonders if the reporters can hear the strain in Sergio’s voice.

Someone grabs Luka’s elbow and brings him to a halt.

“Luka, what do you reckon went wrong today?”

Luka blinks at the microphone shoved to his face, then steals a glance at where Sergio is still fending off the reporters. Sergio looks exhausted, as if he was just minutes away from folding like a lawn chair. Luka desperately wants to curl up to Sergio on his sofa, put on some mindless film and forget about the rest of the world.

The reporters that have gathered around Luka are still waiting for an answer so Luka clears his throat and gives them some PR bullshit of an answer, barely aware of the words that are leaving his mouth. He’s answering on autopilot, the same things over and over again but it must be what the reporters want to hear because no one as much as raises an eyebrow at him. More questions are asked and Luka keeps answering, knowing that each answer brings him closer to finally being left alone.

Then the reporters’ time to annoy him with their questions is up and Luka is about to make a break for it, just sparing a moment to thank the reporters for coming, when one reporter asks him, “So Luka, when are you going to introduce Spomenka, your soulmate, to us?”

Luka’s head snaps up but he doesn’t recognize the reporter. It might be the same guy who surprised him with a question about Spomenka just before the winter break but it might be someone else – Luka didn’t think to remember the guy’s face.

“Now is not a good time,” Luka says, just barely managing to keep his voice level as he hastily heads to the locker room. How on earth has he forgotten that they’re after him, eager to snoop and uncomfortably close to uncovering all the ugly truths Luka has been hiding is beyond him. Must have been the holidays. Such an oasis of peace that the whole affair with the media having the photo of his ‘soulmark’ slipped out of his mind. Luka doesn’t even remember exiting the pitch he’s so shaken.

The mood in the locker room is glacier. Even Vini who put on a great effort is now sitting with his head down, looking utterly defeated.

Luka takes a shower in the time it takes Sergio to shake off the reporters. The room falls silent for a second when Sergio enters. They all look at their captain, waiting what he’ll tell them. But after a game like this, there really isn’t much to say. One game doesn’t mean anything, good effort, better luck next time. Sergio is keeping his tone light and the smile on his face and Luka can’t help but think that Sergio is just keeping it together for the sake of others, telling the others what they need to hear, just like he did with the reporters. Sergio’s eyes, though, they tell a different story.

Solari storms into the locker room in the middle of Sergio’s speech, furious. His words are harsh and reprimanding, holding none of Sergio’s encouraging sentiment. There will be a briefing tomorrow, Solari says. Isco keeps staring blankly at the wall opposite of him the whole time Solari fumes.

Then the coach runs out of steam and storms off, all but slamming the door on his way out.

“Well,” Sergio clears his voice and gets up again. “Team night tonight,” he announces, voice tight.

“Great. See you guys later, then,” Isco says, springing to life and gathering his things from his locker.

The others murmur their agreements and go back to what they were doing before Solari came in.

Luka walks over to Sergio. “You okay?” he asks very quietly, knowing he’s not going to get the practised media answer.

“Am I okay?” Sergio repeats. “Am I okay? Are you seriously asking me that?”

Luka brushes his hair from his eyes, blinks up at Sergio. “Yes. I want to know.”

“I’m not okay,” Sergio says, shrugging off his shirt and grabbing a towel.

“Fair enough,” Luka acknowledges. He watches as Sergio fiddles with his cover and slings the towel around his shoulder as he rummages around for a body wash, turning his heavily tattooed back to Luka. Luka gulps and mutters, “But we’ll get there.”

“As your captain,” Sergio sighs, “aren’t I supposed to be telling you that?”

Luka gives him a nudge. “You don’t say things you don’t mean.” Not to me, anyway.

“Not to you,” Sergio agrees, lips twitching into a brief smile.

Chapter Text

If there is one thing that’s worse than actually losing, it’s witnessing the misery of the rest of the team. It’s nights like these that Luka hates. The untold accusations, the regret of one’s own inaction, the helplessness of changing what happened back on the pitch. Though the drinks keep coming, the atmosphere is tense.

Luka tucks himself into one booth with Dani, Toni and Lucas and for the better part of the night, he tries to tune out their wailing.

“Of all places, it had to happen here at Bernabéu,” Toni laments, knocking back yet another drink.

Lucas comfortingly pats his knee. “I know. Fuck. I know.”

“Would have sucked either way,” Dani mutters. “To lose the points.”

“True, true.” Toni holds out his glass, they all raise their glasses to mimic his action and take a big gulp of their drinks.

Everyone is downright miserable about Real’s defeat so it’s no wonder that the team bonding night turns into a bender. Everyone wants to get drunk enough to forget all about the game.

Regrettably, Luka is more sober than he’d like to be. The beer tastes like shit and the whiskey burns its way down his throat uneasily, leaving behind an unpleasant taste.

“I can’t believe Merino got past me that quickly. Sergio couldn’t stop him either,” Toni starts again and Luka can’t bear to listen to it any longer.

“I’m gonna–” Luka says, waving his hand and bringing his glass down sharply on the table, causing three pairs of pitying eyes to fix on him.

“Sure, go get some air,” Dani says.

He leaves them behind and makes his way through the bar, not really knowing what he’s looking for, restlessness crawling through his skin.

Then there is a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Luka.”

Luka turns and it’s Gareth – Gareth who is still out injured and won’t get to play anytime soon but who showed up tonight anyway.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Luka says, pleased that Gareth is getting better at being a part of the team, especially after games as miserable as this one.

“Wouldn’t want to turn down free spirits,” Gareth says with a wry smile.

“Good point,” Luka says, then realizes neither him nor Gareth are having any drinks right now. “Come drink with me,” he decides, grabbing Gareth’s elbow and steering him towards the nearest table.

Gareth lets himself be manoeuvred to a chair and he lets Luka bring them drinks and he doesn’t put up any protests when Luka proceeds to pour them the whiskey that tastes more like molasses than anything else.

“You actually like it?” Luka asks as he watches Gareth take a long sip. “Doesn’t it taste like shit?”

Gareth holds his tumbler tilted towards Luka. “The finish is lush,” he says and Luka can’t tell if he’s joking or not. He refills Gareth’s glass anyway.

Luka hasn’t properly talked to Gareth since the New Year’s party. That time, Gareth was drinking and he had that same miserable expression on his face as he does right now. The sadness is understandable but Luka can’t help feeling like the sadness goes far beyond the unsatisfying result of the game. He squints up at Gareth but he can’t get a read on him at all. He clears his throat. “So. How are you holding up?”

Gareth snorts. “I’m not.”

“Oh.” Luka is sorry he’s asked.

“Better than you though,” Gareth says, nonsensically, in a sing-song voice, and downs his drink. “With the–” he gestures to Luka’s left wrist.

Luka’s brow furrows. Maybe Gareth is really starting to lose it. Sergio voiced a thought like that a while ago, even though Sergio doesn’t know about Gareth’s soulmate. Luka doubts anyone on the team knows, except for him.

Before refilling Gareth’s glass again, Luka reaches out and gently taps the side of Gareth’s hand, high above Gareth’s cover. There is really no easy way to bring it up. But Gareth is clearly miserable and hearing some encouragement might do him good. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins. “About your soulmate.” Gareth goes still and he doesn’t respond but Luka barrels through before he loses his nerve to talk about the issue. “Maybe you should stop trying to chase ghosts, you know?”

Still no reply.

“Gaz, forget about the soulmate bonds. Move on,” Luka says, getting agitated at Gareth’s lack of response. “Live your own life.”

Gareth finally meet’s Luka’s gaze. “Oh? How has that worked for you, Luka?”

Luka opens his mouth but suddenly, he can’t find the right words.

“Well? How is it going, ‘living your own life’?”

“I didn’t–”

“You might try all you want, Luka, but it always finds a way.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Staying here on a lookout for something… someone who’s no longer here?”

Gareth grins, all teeth, no humour. “Might not look so but there’s a method to my madness.”

“Is there?”

“You have no idea what’s like to chase after what she left behind. It wasn’t like this in London. Here in Madrid I’m as close to her as I can get,” Gareth hisses. “She walked these streets, she saw the same things I see every day. She isn’t here but she was here.” Gareth reaches across the table and snatches the bottle of whiskey from Luka’s limp fingers. “If I leave – well, it would be like cutting her off for good.”

“But you said the bond is something that always finds you,” Luka points out. He’s nowhere near drunk enough for this conversation and he’s bitterly regretting not having downed more drinks earlier in the evening. “So even if you left, you wouldn’t be really leaving.”

“Indeed. Just look at yourself, mate. Despite all you did the bond lead you straight here to the soulmate you tried so hard to lose.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Luka says, mulling it over. He’s gone through exceptional lengths to purge his soulbond yet he still ended up in Madrid by Sergio’s side. “Then leaving Madrid wouldn’t make your bond any weaker than it already is,” he says before he can stop himself.

Gareth’s expression closes off. “You have no idea what I would do to have my soulmate here. All that care and trust and love from the bond is going nowhere.”

“But you don’t need a soulmate bond for that,” Luka argues with conviction. “Sergio and I are close and we’re not–“ Luka falls silent, shocked by his own thoughts.

“Blimey! You and Sergio!” Gareth exclaims, anger seeping into his voice. “You really have no idea what it’s like.”

“So you’re happier here than you were back in London?” Luka asks.

“The same as you,” Gareth responds with a nod.

That gives Luka a pause because – yes, he is happier. “I–”

Gareth shakes his head at Luka. “You have no idea.”

“Gaz, I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Bloody hell,” Gareth sighs, hands running through his hair, leaving it dishevelled. “I just want to go home.”

Luka, although he was glad to see Gareth here tonight, says, “Then you should go.”

Gareth grimaces. “They would notice and ask stupid questions, just like you did, you nosy parker.”

At that moment they get interrupted by Dani who spots Luka and comes over. “What are you two up to?” Dani asks in a loud booming voice that is a sharp contrast to the hushed conversation Luka has been having with Gareth. “You aren’t still moping, are you?”

Luka’s chair scrapes against the floor as he pushes back to get up on his feet. “I was just telling Gaz to go easy on the whiskey,” he responds, the lie rolling easily off his tongue. It’s a tactic him and Sergio have used a couple of times during particularly dull and boring events but Luka isn’t sure Gareth got the clue until Gareth opens his mouth and Luka has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“S’tp telling me wha’t’ do, ‘kay?” Gareth slurs, playing along and allowing Dani to heave him up from the table and take some of his weight. Gareth makes them stumble and Luka almost snorts with laughter. Gareth’s piercing eyes find Luka who nods, acknowledging the barb aimed at him.

“Someone should call him a cab,” Dani says. “Luka?”

“I’m on it,” Luka says.

“And get Benze here as well, this fucker’s heavy,” Dani instructs and Luka has to turn away to hide his amused smile as Gareth purposefully lists sideways into Dani even more. A little while later, Luka helpfully opens the backdoor of a cab while Dani and Benze manoeuvre Gareth inside. Gareth unhelpfully keeps his arms sprawled and generally makes it almost impossible to get his gangly limbs shoved inside the car. Luka doesn’t intervene, happy to let Gareth have at least a bit of fun. Gareth was right, Luka has no idea what’s it like to live with the kind of sadness Gareth has to deal daily.

Luka goes back inside and his eyes stray to the pool table where Sergio is trying to swindle his way to a win. Sergio glances up, noticing Luka and beckoning him closer.

Luka has no desire to go back to the booth with Dani, Lucas and Toni. Toni is undoubtedly still going on about the goddamn game.

“Come play pool with us,” Sergio says, wrapping his arm around Luka and pulling him closer. “And why don’t you have anything to drink? Here, let me fix that.”

About the rest of the night, Luka doesn’t remember much aside from the dire need to wash the bitter taste of their loss down with more drinks and the even more persisting need not to think about anything at all.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Luka wakes up at Sergio’s. The rain is beating heavily against the roof and the loud splatter makes it impossible for Luka to snooze on. He rolls out of bed and searches the wardrobe for something clean to wear before he heads to the bathroom. Good thing he keeps some of his stuff here, he thinks as he attempts to get rid of the foul taste in his mouth by applying some vigorous toothbrush scrubbing.

He has a few hazy recollections of Sergio insisting they come back to Sergio’s place since he didn’t want to let Luka out of sight in his ‘drunken stupor’ but from what little Luka does remember, Sergio must have been just as drunk.

Luka stumbles his way downstairs to find a post-it note taped on the mirror in the entryway.

Out for my morning run. Leftover migas in the fridge, top right shelf.
–S

Luka continues into the kitchen where he helps himself to the breakfast Sergio left for him. He’s scraping the last crumbs off his plate when his phone rings, making Luka wince at the sudden noise.

“Hi Ivan,” Luka says as he picks up the phone. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, that’s exactly what I’m calling about. I’m in Madrid right now and I thought I should give you a call to see if you maybe want to meet.”

“You are in Madrid?” Luka tries not to sound too surprised but he probably fails miserably.

“I just said I was. So? Any chance you can squeeze me in today?”

“I’m free till the afternoon,” Luka says, frowning as he tries to recall his schedule.

“Cool. I could be at yours in an hour or so?”

Luka gets up from the table and brings his empty plate to the sink where he frowns at the pile of dirty dishes. “I’m not at mine, I’ll need more time. Can we meet in that café downtown instead?”

Ivan barely misses a beat, “Sure, just give me a ring when you leave Sergio’s so I can set off as well and meet you there.”

Once Ivan hangs up, Luka gathers the dishes and brings them to the sink. He waits as it fills with hot water before starting to soap and scrub the plates.

“I’ve got a dishwasher for that, you know,” Sergio says.

Luka didn’t hear him come in but he must have just returned from his morning run because his cheeks are still flushed, his breathing faster than usual and he obviously hasn’t found the time to change just yet.

“Um. I know.” Luka shrugs and grabs a dish towel to dry the plates. “I wanted to be useful.”

“Ah, Lukita, aren’t you cute? Come here.” Sergio says and in the next moment, Luka is squeezed within an inch of his life.

“Let go,” Luka gasps, laughing and trying to duck out of Sergio’s hold without breaking any plates. “And go take a shower, you reek!” Sergio only clings to him tighter and Luka has to elbow him in the ribs to get away.

“So,” Sergio says as he finally lets go of Luka and settles himself on the kitchen table instead of using the chair like any other normal human being. “Any chance that it was your mum on the phone?”

Luka is so surprised by the question he almost drops the plate he’s still holding. “Um. What? No, no, it wasn’t, why would you think so?”

Sergio shrugs and wipes his brow with the back on his hand, obviously still winded. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“I have a ‘I just pissed of my mother’ tone?” Luka asks, incredulous.

Sergio laughs, bracing against the table with his arms behind his back and leaning back a bit. “Ah, no. Although I can read that on your face loud and clear as well. But I meant that your accent is stronger whenever you’ve just switched back from speaking Croatian.”

“Oh.”

“I noticed a while ago,” Sergio shrugs like that’s not a big deal that he notices such tiny things about Luka.

“Good ears,” Luka acknowledges. “I was on the phone with Ivan, I’m meeting up with him in a few. I should probably head back home.” He hasn’t been home since yesterday.

“You can just invite him over,” Sergio says lightly. “I don’t mind having him here.”

That gives Luka a pause. “I’m sorry, I must have heard you wrong, did you just say you want a culé here at your place?”

“Regrettably,” Sergio says and makes a face as if he bit into a lemon but then immediately proceeds to ruin it by grinning, “that said culé is your friend.” Luka is still gaping at him, when Sergio, adds, “Besides, last I’ve heard, you were a culé, too.”

“That was a lifetime ago!” Luka squawks. “A lot has changed since then!”

“As your captain, I bloody hope it has,” Sergio smirks and slides off the table. Luka takes a step away from him because he knows what he’s up against but Sergio still manages to chase him down, throw his arm around Luka’s shoulder and sway Luka into the doorway.

“Fucker,” Luka laughs, breaking free from the half-hug.

“Seriously, though. Invite him here, don’t go driving all around the city. I’ll stay out of your hair,” Sergio says and when Luka doesn’t reply, Sergio adds, “Don’t forget Solari wants us there for that briefing in the afternoon.”

“As if I could forget,” Luka says.

“Puh, it will be fine,” Sergio grins. “But maybe don’t sit so close to Isco this time, okay? Just in case things go flying again.”

Ivan agrees to drive over to Sergio’s so when the doorbell rings almost thirty minutes before the arranged time, Luka assumes it’s Ivan getting there early.

He opens the door and has to blink a few times to make sure what he’s seeing is right.

“Hi–” he manages, only barely managing to bite down on the ‘Naranča’ that threatens to slip past his lips.

“Hi Luka! I was worried you wouldn’t be home but Marco said that after last night you wouldn’t be in a shape to go anywhere anytime soon,” Naranča says and moves past Luka into the hallway.

“Come in,” Luka says after a beat and closes the door behind her.

“I won’t keep you for long,” Naranča assures, looking around the entryway before heading into the kitchen. “My grandma really likes you, you know? Where is your fridge?”

“Over there,” Luka gestures, still flabbergasted by her sudden arrival.

Naranča turns to him. “Here, hold onto this while I make enough room in the fridge.”

A big white box is shoved into Luka’s hands. It’s heavier than it looks and Luka curiously peers down his nose at it.

Luka hears heavy steps on the staircase and it’s not long before Sergio peeps inside the kitchen. “Hey, I thought I heard– Ah. Hi, Eefje!”

“Oh, hey,” Naranča says, poking her head from the fridge door. “Don’t mind me, I’m already on my way out.”

“What’s going on?” Sergio asks as he comes to stand next to Luka. Luka would also very much like to know that.

“My grandma insisted I bring Luka a cake,” Naranča explains breezily, pointing her thumb at the box in Luka’s hands.

“A cake?” The two of them echo in unison but where Luka sounds confused, Sergio sounds delighted.

Naranača reaches out, grabs the cake and puts it in the fridge. “My grandma said he looked sad and she believes in, like, comfort food but sweeter. Her maraskino cherry cake is the best, I swear.”

“I don’t–” Luka starts to protest.

“He does,” Sergio insists, throwing his arm around Luka’s shoulders. “Thank you for the cake, we’ll be keeping it.”

Naranča grins, eyes flickering between Luka and Sergio for a moment before her eyes widen and she turns to Luka. “Wait, wait. Is this the chicken soup friend? The one who was in a dire need of that chicken broth, I mean.”

Sergio raises an eyebrow and Luka tries to ignore it as he admits, “Yes, it is.”

Naranča gives Sergio a curious look. “Of course it’s you,” she says. “I’ve heard a lot about you, soup friend.”

“Ah, thank you?”

Naranča grins. “Marco had only good things to say, I just didn’t realize he was talking about you.”

“Only good things? I find that hard to believe.” Luka laughs and Sergio swiftly switches his hold from Luka’s shoulders to a fake chokehold. Luka fights back dirty by ticking Sergio’s ribs.

“I won’t be insulted in my own house,” Sergio wheezes, trying to both keep his arm around Luka’s neck and fend off his attack.

“Oh, sorry.” Naranča’s jaw slackens as she stares at them goggle-eyed. “Marco didn’t tell me. I mean he said that… but I didn’t realize that he meant, huh,” she stammers and promptly turns crimson. Her currently ginger bob of hair makes her reddened cheeks stand out even more. “Anyway! I’ll be going!”

Naranča sees herself outside faster than Luka gathers his bearings.

“So. That was interesting,” Luka says.

“That blush really clashed with her hair, right? But hey, free cake!” Sergio shakes Luka off and makes for the fridge.

Luka bursts out laughing.

Chapter Text

Ivan follows Luka through Sergio’s house to the veranda. “Nice pictures,” Ivan says, pausing in the hallway, eyes slow and calm as he inspects one frame to his right.

Luka peers over his shoulder to see which photo captured Ivan’s attention. “Oh, that’s–”

Ivan waves off Luka’s explanations. “I know what your sisters look like, you oaf. Didn’t really expect to see that here.”

“It’s been here since forever,” Luka explains. “I can’t even remember when Sergio put it up.”

With a chuckle, Ivan walks on. “Nice place that you’ve got here. It’s practical to keep an eye on things from up close and make sure Ramos doesn’t accidentally burn down the house while brewing coffee, right?”

“He’s not that bad,” Luka defends.

“I thought you said that Ramos in the kitchen was a disaster waiting to happen,” Ivan reminds him.

“Um.”

Ivan laughs at him. “You said he once cut himself with a knife while trying to open a yoghurt. A yoghurt. With a knife.”

“Oh shut up,” Luka says.

“No, no, it’s really good that you’re around to save the man from himself.”

Luka tries not to blush but Ivan’s grinning face tells him it’s a lost cause. “No one needs any saving, okay?”

“Okay,” Ivan says, humouring Luka. “So how is the babysitting going?”

“Same as always. Beer?”

“Maybe later,” Ivan says. “Come sit with me. I’m not hungry and I won’t die on you of thirst, I promise. I just want to talk to you about something.”

“I’ve some beets roasting in the oven,” Luka says.

“They’ll keep a while. Sit.”

Luka sits down. It’s a warm day but Luka can see the heavy clouds in the distance. “Why are you here, Ivan?”

“I wanted to see how you’re doing, Luka,” Ivan says. “After that picture they got of your wrist, things haven’t really died down, have they?”

“Not really. The papers – their articles are getting worse. I didn’t expect that many questions, you know? I thought going away for a while would help but apparently not.”

“It helped,” Ivan insists and at Luka’s raised eyebrow, he adds, “It helped you. Let you breathe a little bit.”

“I guess. But now I’m back and the reporters are back to asking about Spomenka and I just wish they would stop.”

“You gave them a name to look for, what did you think would happen?”

“I didn’t exactly plan on that to happen.”

“But you had it there just in case they see it,” Ivan states calmly, as if they were discussing the weather.

Luka just nods numbly, unsure of what is Ivan trying to say and too afraid to ask.

“Well, that was a brilliant move, seriously. Except, did you think about the witch-hunt you’ll cause?”

Luka can’t help the scoff that escapes him. “Oh, please.”

“See, this is what happens when you refuse to let me help you,” Ivan says. “We could have avoided all of this if you had agreed to let me find you your Goranka. But no, you wouldn’t let anyone interfere and now it’ll be a witch-hunt.”

“Um, Ivan–” Luka tries to say but Ivan keeps ignoring him.

“It won’t be pretty,” Ivan goes on and then he casually adds, “once they realize they can’t find her.”

Luka’s stomach drops and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to fight off the sudden wave of nausea that hits him. He can’t breathe. He isn’t ready for this.

The next thing he’s aware of is Ivan holding his shoulders, shaking him. “Luka, listen, I know, okay?”

Luka’s heart is pounding in his chest. He can’t say anything and Ivan grips him tighter.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to tell me,” Ivan goes on. “It’s painful watching you wrecking yourself over it because I already know and I don’t care, all right?”

It’s nearly impossible get any words past his lips but Luka tries. “You know?”

He means about the mark, about the scar, about everything, really, but he can’t make the words work for him and Ivan either misinterprets or chooses the easier answer.

“About Ramos? I should hope so.” Ivan pats Luka’s left hand, high above the cover but close enough to make Luka flinch back from the touch. “Sorry,” Ivan says. “I just. Of course I knew. I thought you and Ramos were in a relationship that you were keeping secret for obvious reasons. I mean obvious to me, things are really different here.”

‘Same as Marce,’ Luka thinks but he doesn’t say it out loud, he doesn’t want to interrupt Ivan.

“I might not grew up in Croatia but it doesn’t mean I didn’t grow up hearing about the duality principle. I just didn’t know what to make of it. Luka, I gave you so many openings I can’t even count them all. I hoped we could talk about this.”

“You did?” Luka has never realized.

Ivan nods. “So many chances to talk about it. But when you never said anything and I figured you were taking your time to feel more comfortable. I thought you’d tell me when you were ready.”

“I thought you’d run the moment I tell you,” Luka admits and the moment the words are past his lips, he feels something lighten in his chest.

Ivan smiles and he reaches out again, giving Luka’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Luka, you’re my best friend. I’m not here to judge you, I’m here to help you.”

“Help me with what?”

“This whole mess, of course. I meant what I said earlier. Now that the press has a name, they won’t stop looking. How long do you think until they get to the national registers and search the database for everyone named Ljubinka?”

“Don’t you mean Spomenka?” Luka tries weakly.

Ivan rolls his eyes. “Whatever fake name you chose. That doesn’t matter. What matters is that they’ll look and they won’t find her. They won’t right?”

“No, they won’t,” Luka says, getting a little giddy on the admission.

Ivan probably doesn’t realize how huge this is for Luka because he just nods and goes on. “So the question you should ask yourself is why do you so desperately want to keep Sergio a secret? I mean, you’ve been dating for how many years is it now? He’s a sure thing, he won’t run from your madness if he hasn’t so far,” Ivan attempts to joke but it falls flat.

“It’s a little bit more complicated than that,” Luka says.

Ivan groans. “Of course it is. I don’t know about you but I’d love to have that beer now.”

“Sure, c’mon,” Luka says and in no time he’s reaching into the fridge and getting the opener. As an afterthought, he grabs some olives too, for Ivan to meticulously chew on in that infuriating way of his.

It’s not until they get back on the veranda that he explains a crucial detail that Ivan got wrong. “I’m not dating Sergio.”

“Funny,” Ivan says and reaches out to take a sip of his beer.

Luka makes a pained noise. “Ivan, I swear to you, I’m not dating him.”

Ivan glances up to look at him and he promptly chokes on his beer. “You aren’t dating Sergio?”

Luka leans back against his chair, folding his arms. “I’m not.”

“I thought, well, I can understand why you wanted to keep it under the wraps but… wow. I… Seriously? Not even, like, maybe it’s a casual thing?”

“It’s not a casual thing, Jesus!”

“So it’s a serious thing, then,” Ivan insists and Luka’s protests die on his lips. Ivan seems to sense Luka’s wavering because he says, “C’mon Luka, tell me what the fuck is going on.”

The offer is so tempting that Luka can’t dismiss it. He’s always wanted Ivan to know, it’s just been that he’s been too afraid of losing him to open his mouth.

“Luka. What’s wrong?”

Everything, Luka thinks. Everything is wrong. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Just try me,” Ivan challenges and just like that, the dam tears. “I’ll listen.”

Luka breaks down and tells Ivan everything. Well, almost everything. He tells him what it was like to get the mark when he was a kid, he tells Ivan that he didn’t realize Sergio was that Sergio when they first met, he tells Ivan about getting the mark removed and the cover tattoo in its place.

At the end of it, Ivan’s mind is reeling and Luka has to give him some time to process it all.

“Whoa,” Ivan says. “So you aren’t with Sergio? But you are in love with him?”

Luka splutters. “What? I never said–”

Ivan waves him off. “That part was obvious. Oh god, your wrist. Did it scar?”

“It did,” Luka confirms and Ivan lets out a sharp exhale. “It’s not really visible if you don’t know what to look for,” Luka hurries to say.

“No wonder you were so upset about that picture in Marca.”

“Yeah, I almost head an heart attack when I saw it.”

“Do you think your mother saw it?”

Luka turns his gaze back to the sky. The clouds have gotten darker, more gray than white. “I hope not.”

“Your mother doesn’t approve,” Ivan concludes.

“I haven’t told her it’s Sergio. She didn’t want to hear. She saw my wrist and it made her a little bit angry.”

“A little bit,” Ivan echoes flatly. They both know Luka’s mother was beyond heartbroken when she realized there was no Spomenka.

“I think she was really set on the idea of me marrying my soulmate.”

Ivan’s eyes widen. “Oh crap, I didn’t even realize you can’t.”

“Not unless I want to move to Spain for good. Sergio would be disappointed if I didn’t,” Luka says quietly.

“He’d never make you chose between him and your home. He must know what it means to you, representing the country, having your roots there. It will always remain your home.”

Croatia hasn’t been a home to him in a while, Luka realizes with a pained jolt. But it doesn’t mean Luka will ever want to cut the ties. “You’ve changed your nationality once,” he reminds Ivan.

“Yes, but that was different. I chose it. It’s wasn’t like this.”

“All right.”

“Luka? Does… Sergio know?”

“Bits and pieces,” Luka admits.

“Don’t you want to tell him?”

“I don’t know, Ivan. It’s complicated.”

Ivan snorts. “Yeah, trust you to get yourself in such mess.”

“I didn’t ask to have his name on my wrist, you know?” Luka grunts, hiding his arm beneath the table that’s separating him from Ivan. Out of the view, he runs his thumb against the cover, reminding himself that the whole debacle with Somenka is behind him. He’s moved past that.

“You okay?” Ivan asks.

There isn’t one word to describe the turmoil of emotions that Luka feels. He shrugs. “I’m okay.”

“Ivan? How did you know… I mean, why did you think I was dating Sergio?”

Ivan stares at him for a few long minutes and Luka thinks he might not get an answer but then he says, “I thought it was obvious. The way he is with you. Very attentive. Very sweet. And don’t take it wrong but from where I’m standing, you don’t look like you mind the attention at all.”

“He has a way of making people feel special when he’s with them,” Luka points out.

Ivan shrugs. “But you are special to him.”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Luka, you basically live here.” Luka opens his mouth to protest but Ivan holds up his hand. “No. Don’t. Just think about it for a moment, okay?”

“I have my own place,” Luka objects.

“See? Exactly. A place that you have. But your trinkets are all over this place. Your baking trays are here, the fridge is full of vegetables I know for sure Ramos doesn’t eat, there are your pictures and your favourite blanket in the living room next to the TV.”

“I forgot it here after one movie night,” Luka mumbles.

“And you never brought it back to that place you call your house,” Ivan retorts. “Luka, you’re so familiar with this house. You feel safe here, it’s become your home. It’s so easy to see I can’t believe you didn’t realize.”

“I… I think you’re right,” Luka says weakly. He’s glad he’s sitting down because he feels as weak as a kitten.

“Of course I’m right, you idiot. It took me some time to come to terms with it,” Ivan admits and Luka tries to think back to a point when Ivan was acting cold to him, to some moment Luka had chucked down to a misfortunate result of their international match or something that would have a long stretch of time of Ivan avoiding him but he’s drawing blank. “But then I realized you were being serious about him so I just learned to accept it.”

“I’m not with him, though.”

Ivan nods. “It sure looked that way, though. And frankly, it’s just your own fault you’re not.”

Luka hopes ‘it didn’t look that way’ to others. Luka hopes his mother hasn’t made the same assumptions as Ivan. She saw Luka’s wrist and the scar he was hiding there and she must have wondered about the real name of Luka’s soulmate. If she figured it out though, she hasn’t admitted it to Luka. She’s still not picking up his calls. Maybe she isn’t thinking about it at all, suppressing it from her memory and pretending it never happened, pretending there is still a Spomenka for her to find. Luka spent a long time pretending to believe the same.

Luka’s musings are interrupted by Sergio who comes into the veranda, waving at Ivan. “Hi Luka, Ivan. What are you two up to?”

“Hey.” Ivan gestures at the view from the house. “Nice place you two have got here.”

Sergio brightens up. “Yeah, thanks.”

Ivan raises his eyebrows at Luka but Luka chooses to ignore it.

“Marce wanted to know,” Sergio begins, turning to Luka but then pausing. “But that can wait. I’ll get you some water. You look awful pale,” Sergio says and heads to the kitchen.

Ivan watches him disappear back into the house, then makes a gesture after him. “What more do you want? Find the right words, and tell him,” Ivan says, voice firm.

Luka runs his finger along the armrest of his chair. “I will.”

“Good. Listen, it’s getting late.”

“I’ll see you out,” Luka offers.

Sergio intercepts them in the hallway. He passes Luka the glass of water. “Uh, Luka? Something is burning in the kitchen. Please tell me that’s not our lunch?”

“That’s not our lunch,” Luka tells him dutifully, taking a slow sip of water while Ivan laughs at them.

Sergio frowns at Ivan. “Going already?”

“Just wanted to say hi to Luka,” Ivan shrugs. “We’ll be meeting in Barca soon enough anyway.”

“Hm, cool.”

Ivan suddenly pauses in his tracks and studies Sergio for a moment. Sergio is either completely unaware of the scrutiny or completely fine with it because he doesn’t even tense up. He just leans against the doorway and reaches for the glass once Luka is done with it.

For a moment, Luka thinks Ivan is going to tell Sergio and his stomach clenches. He’s not sure if he’s terrified, relieved or angry but he’s something and the feeling is too much. Too intense. It’s not Ivan’s story to tell and Luka is almost running down the hallway, trying to silence Ivan when Ivan shakes himself and continues getting ready to leave.

“Luka has something to tell you,” is all Ivan says.

Sergio frowns. “Uh, okay?”

Luka ushers Ivan to the front door, leaving Sergio behind.

Ivan shrugs on his jacket and he turns to Luka, voice barely a whisper. “Make sure… Sergio hears all of this, okay?”

“Okay,” Luka says but Ivan’s eyes narrow at the tone of his voice.

“What now?”

Luka shakes his head. “Nothing. Just. You can keep calling him Ramos, you know.”

Condescendingly, Ivan pats his head. “Nah, I’d better get used to it.”

Chapter Text

Thankfully, Ivan departs without any further comments on Luka’s ‘soulmark’ situation. Luka isn’t sure his heart could take it. He makes an aborted waving gesture as Ivan slips out of the front gate.

He waits a moment, then another, just to let it sink in that Ivan is still his friend. Ivan walked out in a good mood, making a few gibes at Real’s form and the upcoming El Clásico match. It feels a bit surreal because whenever Luka entertained the thought of telling Ivan, it never once went this smooth in his mind.

Once Ivan is gone, there’s nothing for Luka to do but go back inside. Sergio is waiting for him, undoubtedly curious about what it is that Luka is supposed to tell him. Luka isn’t ready. He doesn’t like the odds of things going well twice in one day. He can’t afford another fuck-up with Sergio. Things have just gotten back to not being strained between them. If Luka doesn’t dwell on the odd hesitations and sudden silences that come and go seemingly at random, things are great. Especially considering what Luka has already told Sergio. There is no point in opening up the wounds again and risk fucking everything up any further. Him and Sergio are on speaking terms, Sergio accepted Luka back to his life and Sergio, apparently, forgave him. Luka should be thankful for the way things have calmed down, instead of pressing on and chasing dreams.

They have a training today, Solari still owes them that dressing-down, and Real’s next match is just around the corner. Real needs every point if they want to keep challenging Barcelona. Now is not a good time. It will never be a good time.

Luka forces himself to take a deep breath. He squares his shoulders, smoothes out his shirt and walks back to the house. He closes the front door, leans back against it and tries to calm his racing heart.

His eyes catch on the myriad of pictures in the hallway. He’s never realized how many pictures capture moments from his life. There he is, talking to Clarice – or rather, she’s talking to him and he has his pleasant smile on as she talks. It must have been taken within the first few weeks of him arriving in Madrid, he barely understood a word she said. In the lower part of the wall, him and Sergio are in the Alps. The snowy hills are looming behind them and Sergio’s cheeks are pink from the cold. Luka doesn’t remember Sergio hanging it up but he must have done it quite recently. Some pictures are more recent, some take Luka a moment to place because they’re so old. He’s walked down this hallway too many times to count but he’s never stopped to ponder how many of his own memories are displayed there. A sudden wave of fondness crashes over Luka and it’s so powerful it has him closing his eyes for a few seconds. He wants to find Sergio and wrap his arms around him in a tight squeeze. He wants to be there in Sergio’s life, the same he’s always been. The pictures are staring him in the face as a proof that Luka feels the need to be there, to be close, closer still, despite not having the soulmark. That is all on him.

Luka tucks an unruly strand of his hair behind his ear and forces himself to move further into the house.

Sergio is in the kitchen. He has his back to Luka, hands in the sink, meticulously washing a chopping board. He’s humming some song under his breath and he doesn’t notice it when Luka enters. Luka stays there for a few quiet moments, considering his options as he watches Sergio work.

“I thought you said you had a dishwasher for that,” Luka says.

Sergio grins, turning his head over his shoulder to look at Luka. “I’m taking a page from your book.”

Luka’s stomach does a funny swoop at the smile. “By attempting to make lunch?”

Sergio hums. “The beetroots were a lost cause but I think the carrots aren’t half bad. I cut off all the charred bits.”

“A-ha,” Luka forces out. The stupid feeling is choking him again and he folds his arms protectively around his chest as he takes a few steps closer.

“It’s edible if you ignore the smell. Here, try this,” Sergio says as he finishes towelling the chopping board dry. He grabs one of the bowls on the counter and holds it out to Luka.

“I doubt it’s that bad.” Luka accepts a slice and then he promptly makes a face. “Maybe with some spinach and potatoes.”

“Or we could simply grab a bite at the canteen before the training if it doesn’t turn out any good.”

“I’ll take that as a challenge.” Luka tilts his head and gives Sergio a considering look. “Can I trust you with the potatoes?”

“Easy peasy. You can trust me with your life.”

The thing is, Luka can.

He reaches for a saucepan with clumsy fingers while Sergio makes himself useful by peeling the potatoes.

“Did Ivan say,” Sergio starts, then he heaves a sigh and turns to look at Luka, resting his hips against the counter. Luka stares down at the cloves of garlic he’s supposed to slice. “Did he like, say something bad to you? Because you’ve been shaking like a leaf,” Sergio adds.

“No, he didn’t! Quite the opposite, actually. He’s been– He said. Something I needed to hear, I think,” Luka manages.

“Hm, that’s good.” Out of the corner of his eye, Luka sees Sergio turn his attention back to the potatoes. “Pity I didn’t apologize to him while he was here, I guess.”

“What for?”

Sergio’s shoulders raise and fall in a shrug. They’re very broad shoulders. “For breaking his jaw.”

Luka can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “You didn’t break his jaw, Sergio.”

“Well, certainly not for the lack of trying,” Sergio admits and judging from his smug smile, he only said that to coax a laugh out of Luka. Luka doesn’t know why it works every single time but he’s far from complaining.

They work in companionable silence for the next few minutes and then Luka feels Sergio’s gaze settle on him again.

Luka tenses up, waiting for the questions to come but Sergio doesn’t say anything at all.

Grabbing a spatula, Luka turns the spinach to see if it has wilted enough. He adds a tiny splash of olive oil. Then he checks on the potatoes, adding cumin seeds that Sergio forgot. Then there’s nothing else to check and Luka finally musters the courage to meet Sergio’s eyes but he can’t find the right words to say to him.

Sergio waits him out, unusually patient, but in the end Luka loses his nerve. All Luka says is, “So what was it that Marcelo wanted? Is he meeting us at the stadium?”

Chapter Text

“And here I was hoping you’d make us miss the meeting,” Luka grumbles from the passenger’s seat as Sergio hastily enters the car and jams the key into the ignition.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sergio breathes out, glancing into the rear-view mirror as he quickly backs out of the driveway. “Wait, you wanted us to be late?”

“Well, personally, I could do without another lecture,” Luka admits. “Or do you think today will bring us anything useful, captain?”

Sergio tries to click his seatbelt into place while also keeping one hand on the steering wheel. Luka swats his hand away and does it for him. “Thanks,” Sergio says, then, “Ah, you never know. He might surprise us.”

Luka shoots him a quick glance that Sergio catches and they both barely keep from snorting with laughter since they know Solari likes to over-analyse everything during his meetings and there’s no way they’re escaping a lecture today whether they make it on time or not.

“What kept you so long anyway?”

“I was fixing my hair,” Sergio deadpans, ducking his head to check his hair in the rear-view mirror. “I wanted it to look good.”

“It always looks good,” Luka responds and only once the words are out the meaning catches up with him and has him glancing away from the passenger’s window in embarrassment.

Sergio just laughs and switches on the radio. Slowly, the silence creeps up on them and eventually, Luka can’t stand it anymore. He clears his throat and asks about one of Sergio’s favourite topics – his horses. It works like a charm. Sergio lights up as he talks about them, about his newest plans and ideas for improving the pens and Luka just lets the waterfall of words wash over him, trying to keep the smiles and the looks and the touches to a minimum. It’s never been an issue before but now Luka feels rather conscious about everything and the last thing he wants is for Sergio to notice Luka is being weird about it.

Luka can’t help it, though. Sergio’s laughter is infections, his eyes are bright and piercing, his vivid gestures draw Luka’s attention. It’s impossible not to focus on Sergio.

“Anyway, so I have this dilemma,” Sergio is saying and Luka blinks and tries to focus on what’s actually being said because it sounds important.

“Yeah?”

“Well, there are these two horses in Seville and the city hall is auctioning them. The previous owner passed away and no one took them in so they ended up with the city and I can’t stop thinking about the poor things.”

“You want to take them in,” Luka concludes.

“Yes. I really, really want to. But I’m not sure about it, I mean the transport would be a nightmare and I’m not sure about the state that they’re in. They might not even be in a shape to be moved anywhere just yet. Also, I’m not really sure about the time investment, you know?”

“Right,” Luka nods, understanding all the issues and thinking fast. “But it’s not like it’s just you they’ll be relying on. You have people to take care of them and you have the means to help the horses. I think you should go see them. Find out what you’d be dealing with.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Sergio admits. “I’m just not sure–”

“I’ll come with you,” Luka says then pauses, “If you’d like me to, of course.”

Sergio grins and cuffs the back of Luka’s head. “I’d love you to.”

Objectively speaking, there really is no reason for Luka’s heart to quicken up its pace upon hearing the words. But Luka has little control over it so he settles for waiting it out while listening to Sergio talk about the details of ‘the horse rescue’.

Halfway through their ride, it starts raining and heavy droplets shatter against the windshield. When they stop at the lights, Sergio runs a hand through his hair and switches on the wipers. Luka tracks the movement of the wipers with his eyes because it’s better than staring at Sergio.

There is a strand of hair that’s gotten tousled out of place on the side of Sergio’s head and Luka wants to reach out and tuck it back where it belongs. He’s aching for it. He folds his arms to make sure he doesn’t just reach out and do it.

Before the light turns green, Sergio catches him staring. He doesn’t say anything, just arches his eyebrow at Luka and Luka turns his head away sharply and keeps watching the raindrops sliding down the windshield until they reach the stadium.

“See? What did I tell you? Not late at all,” Sergio says as they pull into the parking lot and hurriedly make their way through the rain inside the building.

They are a little late to the meeting for Luka’s tastes but Solari is not there yet and what the coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him. The room is already packed and they’re basically the last two people to arrive but there are two seats in the middle of the table saved for Sergio and Luka. Luka doesn’t even think about it until he’s passing Toni and Toni knocks Luka’s side with his elbow as Luka walks past and whispers, “Thank god you’re here, I thought he’d walk in and see you two are missing. That wouldn’t be a good beginning.” Toni jerks his chin to the two empty seats, like it’s a given that him and Sergio would be in those seats next to each other, standing a front against the critique.

Luka is still trying to puzzle out whether or not it means anything even as Solari finally makes his appearance, running only ten minutes late himself.

Solari keeps prattling about things that aren’t working and the adjustments they’ll have to make for the next match and Sergio is getting more and more agitated the more Solari talks. He hasn’t said anything yet but Luka knows that it is just a matter of time before Sergio voices his thoughts and no one is interested in having another repeat of the half-time debacle from the last match.

They watch a reply of Toni missing a chance and Solari pauses it, rewinds, and says, “We need to focus on better accuracy.” He says ‘we’ but he means Toni and that’s a bold accusation because if anyone’s accuracy is top notch, it would be Toni’s, it’s just that lately things have not been going their way at all.

Toni has his head down, clearly uncomfortable.

Sergio opens and closes his mouth and Luka lets his hand rest on Sergio’s thigh, giving him a reassuring squeeze when he can see Sergio is about to speak up and give Solari a piece of his mind. Marce is sitting next to Luka and he sees the movement. He smirks at Luka and Luka’s fingers twitch under the scrutiny but he refuses to withdraw his hand.

Solari’s comments get brisk and unpleasant but Luka knows better so he bites his tongue and focuses on keeping Sergio from blowing up.

By the end of the team talk, Luka is fidgeting in his seat and he is almost eager for it to be over. Then it finally is and everyone heads for the exit and Luka is almost out of the door when Solari calls out to him.

“Luka, wait up,” the coach calls out and Luka barely stops himself from letting out a groan. Lucas and Rapha are also asked to stay behind and the three of them shuffle their feet reluctantly as they join their coach at the front of the room.

Luka exchanges a questioning look with Lucas but Lucas doesn’t know what it’s about either, simply shrugging and making a face where Solari can’t see him.

Turns out they didn’t need to worry, Solari just wanted to tell them that they are scheduled for a press conference after the upcoming game, along with Sergio and Benzema, who already went over the key points during the last meeting. All Solari wanted was to make sure they’ll all be in the media room on time but he took his sweet time telling them that. The three of them are lucky to make their escape twenty minutes after everyone else has left. It has even stopped raining.

Outside in the parking lot, Sergio is engaged in a conversation with Marco and Toni, gesturing wildly with a loose grin plastered on his face. Marco throws his head back and laughs at something Sergio says and Sergio’s grin turns pleased. Luka slowly walks closer to them and Sergio seems to sense the weight of Luka’s gaze on him because he turns to face Luka.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Sergio says when Luka gets within the earshot.

“I see that you have,” Luka says and he really can’t help it if his heart swells a little at that. “Would be really pissed if you weren’t,” he makes himself say because the previous statement feels a bit too heavy, “seeing that you’re my ride.”

Sergio chuckles and Toni then asks, “What did the coach want with you?”

“Press duty,” Luka drawls out and it’s an explanation enough.

“Oh, shit, that’s not gonna be pleasant,” Toni laments, knocking his shoulder against Lucas’.

“They’ll eat me alive,” Lucas laments. “Hope there isn’t anyone from Marca, they are dead set on selling me to Valencia.”

Sergio snorts. “Don’t tell me you listen to the them. If the press talk was to be believed, I’d have retired years ago.”

“You could always politely tell them that the negotiations with Valencia had to be put on hold because a new offer from the Bundesliga came up,” Toni suggest lightly.

They all cackle at the idea and then Sergio says, “Man, can you imagine their faces if you said that?” They start laughing again.

“Don’t tempt me,” Lucas mutters. “You don’t understand how close I get sometimes.”

“I do, is the thing,” Sergio says. “Sometimes, I really want to say something outrageous jus to see them all shut up.”

“Don’t we all?” Luka says and it earns him two surprised looks from Sergio and Marco but Luka doesn’t add anything and Sergio shrugs.

“So, anyone wanna grab some food?”

“Sure,” Lucas agrees and turns to Luka. “Are we having Thai again?”

“That’s the plan,” Sergio chirps brightly before Luka manages to answer but apparently, the plan has already been made and Luka has no real protests anyway.

Chapter Text

After their dinner, Luka ends up at Sergio’s. He doesn’t even think about it as he follows Sergio into the house, still chattering back and forth about whether or not the changes Solari has in mind for their next game could work. Luka takes off his jacket and hangs it by the door to dry. It has been raining on and off all evening and Luka’s hair is a mess. Luka grimaces when he sees himself in the mirror in the entryway and he attempts to tame the waves into place by raking his fingers through it but he’s not very successful.

Sergio kicks off his shoes and glances over at Luka. “So what are we watching tonight?”

“A-ha!” Luka gives up on his hair, reaches out and pats a pocket of his jacket, then squints at a piece of paper that Toni gave him. “Um. Toni recommended The Organs to me.”

Sergio peeks over Luka’s shoulder and starts laughing. “I think he meant The Originals, Lucas complains about it all the time.”

Luka crumbles the piece of paper. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. His handwriting sucks.”

“Aw, Lukita, don’t be like that,” Sergio croons and squishes Luka between his body and a near wall. “I think Toni was joking anyway. I’ve got a film you might actually enjoy, for once.”

“I hate you,” Luka says darkly but his threatening voice is obviously not working on Sergio because Sergio only laughs harder while Luka tries to squirm away. “What is it about? I swear, Sergio, that if there are any more murderous cults or creepy dolls, I’ll–”

“Running,” Sergio says, letting Luka go. “It’s about running. Very inspirational, lot of inner challenges, you’ll love it.”

Luka has a cutting remark ready on the tip of the tongue so he blinks in surprise. “Oh, that sounds good.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I know your tastes. I’ll put the film on,” Sergio offers and that’s how the evening finds Luka lounging at Sergio’s couch, snuggled into one of Sergio’s many cushions, trying not to list into Sergio too obviously while they keep a running a commentary on Finding Traction as it plays.

“I told you!” Sergio croons after the films’ final scene. “Was I right or was I right?”

“You were right,” Luka admits, smiling in amusement at Sergio’s antics.

“Yes! I called it!” Sergio fist pumps the air as if it was his personal victory. “Say it again!”

“You were right and I was wrong,” Luka repeats dutifully and then adds, “There weren’t any vengeful murderous cults or possessed creepy dolls.”

Sergio laughs, “Ah, Luka. I’ll take that.” He’s excited, eyes bright, voice amused and his presence is impossible to ignore when there’s so much light in him. He makes Luka feel alive, this very moment, this very second. Sergio gives Luka this huge, easy grin and Luka, well, Luka suddenly has the urge to lean over and kiss that silly gin away. He wants–

Shit.

Luka breaks their eye contact, sits up straight and very carefully doesn’t do any of the things he’s been thinking about lately.

Sergio’s grin falls and he keeps shooting looks at Luka and Luka knows he’s acting weird but he can’t help himself. The silence between them gets overwhelming but then Sergio reaches out and cuts off the sound from the final credits and then it really gets quiet and Luka’s stomach rolls because he’s not ready to talk about any of this. It’s too frightening, there are too many ways this could go wrong and Luka still has no idea how to make Sergio understand.

“It’s getting late,” Luka says abruptly, voice booming into the silence between them. “I should head back.”

Sergio cranes his neck to the clock on the wall, exposing the long line of his neck that Luka follows with his eyes. This is bad, this is really bad and Luka hasn’t even noticed when it crept-up on him. Sergio is blissfully unaware. “Ah, I see. Early call tomorrow, right?” Sergio raises from the couch, stretching his spine. “Though you could always sleep in your room if you don’t feel like driving at this hour.”

The world comes to a halt, just for a tiniest of moments, followed by a funny sensation in Luka’s stomach. It’s like he missed a step while rushing down the stairs but managed to catch himself in time.

“Nah. It’s fine,” Luka dismisses and makes his feet move toward the front door. His voice comes out higher than usual but Sergio doesn’t comment on it.

“It’s still raining,” Sergio points out with a small frown.

“I’ll be okay,” Luka manages but Sergio doesn’t seem enthusiastic about the idea at all. “I’ll shoot you a text when I get there,” Luka promises and that finally gets him a nod from Sergio.

“Okay. Guess I’ll see you before the match, then.”

“Sure,” Luka says and by some miracle, his hands manage to keep from shaking as he reaches for his keys and waves goodbye at Sergio.

Your room, echoes in Luka’s ears. He wonders how many other things he’s missed completely.

He opens the front door but before he manages to step outside, the night sky gets light up by a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder comes through the air almost at the same time.

“Yeah,” Sergio says by Luka’s ear and Luka startles, not having heard Sergio move across the room at all. “You’re not going anywhere. I suggest you surrender the keys willingly.”

“Okay.”

Slowly, Luka closes the door, drops the keys to Sergio’s waiting palm and lets himself get guided back inside.

“Why were you in such a hurry anyway? Was it something I did?”

Luka wouldn’t call Sergio’s tone hurt but when he glances over, the expression on Sergio’s face is surprisingly vulnerable and Luka’s heart aches with it. ‘It was more like something you didn’t do,’ Luka wants to say but doesn’t.

“Of course not,” he assures Sergio.

“Luka.”

Luka doesn’t raise his head, captivated by the ornate flower tile pattern on the floor. “What?”

There is a brief moment of silence before Sergio speaks up again but it’s long enough to make Luka worry that there won’t be anything to say. Sergio nudges him further down the hallway. “How do you feel about another movie?”

“Cautiously optimistic,” Luka says drily and he’s really glad that his voice has not betrayed him.

“Let me work my magic,” Sergio says and Luka’s stomach is doing somersaults again.

Luka walks back into the living room and Sergio quietly trails behind him. Luka wonders if it would be weird if he switched seats and sat somewhere else in the living room, somewhere far, far away from Sergio. Maybe if he buys himself a few minutes of time first. “Should I go grab some–”

Sergio shakes his head. “You settle right here,” he says, patting the couch next to him. “And you press this little button and the next film starts playing.” Sergio waggles his fingers. “Magic.”

Luka does just that, lips curling up into a helpless, tiny smile as he does so.

Sergio elbows him as the opening credits start rolling. “See? Easy peasy.”

Not even twenty minutes into the film, Luka can’t stand it anymore and he’d bet that Sergio isn’t really following the plot either so Luka takes a steadying breath and puts the film on pause.

“Hey, Sergio,” Luka starts, and he already feels his heartbeat speeding up. He shoves his hands into his pockets to keep them still.

Sergio glances up at Luka, the angle makes it seem like his lips are curled in a smirk. “Hey, Luka,” Sergio returns teasingly.

“Can I say something to you?”

“Sure?” Sergio responds and he must pick up on Luka’s anxious expression because Sergio’s tone goes quieter and the grin disappears altogether. Sergio sits up and turns to face Luka. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s about the… It’s the,” Luka struggles. He has so many things he needs to tell Sergio but now his nerves are getting to him again. Luka folds his arms, curls his fingers into the hem of his shirt and he does his best to calm himself down because surely nothing he says is going to make things worse than they’re now. Sergio is his friend, they trust each other.

Sergio knocks his ankle against Luka’s. “Just get it off your chest. I know there’s been something going on and Ivan hinted at something. You never said anything and the way you’ve been acting lately, I see it’s been affecting you.”

When Luka doesn’t react, Sergio scuttles closer and settles his hand on the small of Luka’s back. The gesture is supposed to bring Luka comfort but all it does is make Luka focus on Sergio’s presence so close to him. He’s so warm. His skin, the tone of his voice, his open expression, the hue of his irises, Luka is so close he can see the little individual specks of honey melting in the chocolate colouring and Luka is gone. He can’t stand it, he doesn’t understand how Sergio ever had and here is, doubting everything again but then Sergio runs his hand up and down Luka’s back and a familiar little worried line appears between his eyebrows.

“Just tell me, Luka.”

“The bond,” Luka says through clenched teeth.

“Uh. What about it?” Sergio asks, drawing back a little but still keeping Luka pinned under that sharp gaze that makes Luka want to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry I don’t have the mark anymore,” Luka whispers eventually and he does squeeze his eye shut when he hears Sergio suck in a sharp breath.

“Are you?”

“Yes. No, it’s not that easy, Sergio.”

“Well, you could explain it to me, that might help,” Sergio drawls.

“I’ll try,” Luka says, reminding himself that he has planned this speech and hoping that if everything else fails, that the right words will come to his tongue just as they did when he explained things to Ivan. “Don’t… don’t interrupt me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“In Croatia,” Luka starts and in the darkness of his closed eyes it’s easy to picture the room they rented in Zagreb when his parents first got there. He remembers his mother pregnant with their youngest sister, he remembers the smell of a detergent on his father’s Sunday clothes. He remembers very much how uncertain everything was and he also remembers the dark despair of seeing his mark form on his skin, yet another danger that could ruin everything. “Things were really different,” Luka settles for and then tries his best to explain everything to Sergio. The scornful looks. The way coaches doubted him. What having a same-sex bond would have meant if anyone learnt about it at school or at the pitch or anywhere, really.

Sergio sits and listens and he doesn’t interrupt and Luka is sure Sergio doesn’t look away from him at all but he doesn’t want to open his eyes to check. Luka talks about what it was like, keeping secrets and hoping things would work out for the best. Things did work out, Luka explains, but when they did, he was always fearing that one little slip, one brief moment when Luka’s guard would be down, and it could ruin everything.

“Having such bond wasn’t allowed anyway so it was just something to be ashamed of and I was always looking over my shoulder, worried someone would figure it out.” Always so jumpy. “I hated every moment of it. Feeling like it was forced on me, feeling like I was trapped,” Luka finishes.

“The clinic was the only option for you,” Sergio says when Luka falls silent.

“Yes. It seemed that way.”

Sergio lets out a long breath. “You were just a fucking kid.”

“I was twelve, Sergio,” Luka says. “Old enough to decide what I wanted. And it was to play.”

“It hardly seems fair, though. That you’d have to make the choice.”

“Yeah. Well.” Luka blinks his eyes open and stares up at the ceiling. “It wasn’t much of a choice.”

“You stuck by your decision, though,” Sergio says.

“It’s not like I can change my mind about it, is it?” Luka says and it comes out more biting than he meant. “I don’t have your soulmark anymore so I can’t offer you any of that.”

“Luka. This isn’t about the mark.”

“It’s always about the stupid mark,” Luka counters and lets his hair fall to his face. “It’s always about what I did or didn’t do, said or didn’t say and it’s not like there’s any moving forward from something like that.” He gestures to his wrist. “I tried, though,” he adds after a moment.

“Yes, you said. I think you’re overestimating how much the soulmark means, though.”

“Wasn’t it you who said that the soulmark was a piece of my soul and getting rid of it would be like losing a piece of myself?”

“Well. At the time, I believed I was talking you out of getting your mark removed. I was trying to save you a lot of pain,” Sergio says.

“There was a lot of pain,” Luka admits, swiping his hair off his face. “Once I got the mark removed. And also… well, sometimes there’s pain when I think too much about the bond I removed.”

“Oh my god, Lukita,” Sergio exclaims and his voice gets more and more agitated as he speaks, “You can’t remove a bond. You can alter the channel, the connection, the outlet, whatever. You fuck with the soulmark, it changes the way the bond flows but a soulmark can’t do all that much damage, okay? You can’t erase a soulbond by removing just one fucking piece of it!”

“You’ve mentioned that before,” Luka mumbles.

“Yes! But it obviously hasn’t stuck!” Sergio shouts.

“Because I’m not sure it’s true. I’ve never felt the bond between us. At all,” Luka objects and it earns him a raised eyebrow from Sergio.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I’m–” Luka wonders. He can’t feel Sergio’s emotions through the soulmark like other soulmates do. But Sergio has always been an open book to him and it’s ridiculously easy to let himself feel whatever Sergio is feeling. It doesn’t matter if it’s sharing optimism about a game, being excited about a team bonding night or getting into the Christmas spirit; feeding off Sergio’s enthusiasm is simple for Luka.

“Can’t you think of a single instance when things felt like they were going really smoothly? When we clicked? When you knew exactly what to say to help me keep my head above water?”

“I’ve spent years getting to know you, is all,” Luka mumbles, feeling at loss. He hates the shouting and he hates that each time it really matters his carefully constructed words fall to pieces, that his arguments fail him and he has no fucking clue what to say.

“Is that what you keep fucking telling yourself?” Sergio snaps and he’s shouting again.

“Keep your voice down,” Luka says and his voice sounds calm even though Luka isn’t calm at all.

Sergio deflates. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just. Frustrating, you know?”

“I know. That’s the part I’m sorry about,” Luka says. “That things are so broken between us.”

“They’re not broken. It’s just the way you look at our bond and can’t see it that’s really hurting us.”

“I can see it, though.”

“Uh-huh,” Sergio says and it’s clear he doesn’t believe Luka.

“It’s recent,” Luka acknowledges. “I’ve been thinking about it. And some things have been pointed out to me and I also started noticing… things.”

“Pointed out… Listen, Luka, whatever Marcelo said, he’s just being a friend, don’t mind him. He’s a bit optimistic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being optimistic,” Luka says and Sergio barks with laughter.

“Says you?”

“Well, it’s not like Marcelo said anything to me, okay? It’s the way everyone is acting and the way we’re acting and I never thought about how it looks to others because that’s just us, that’s always been us but if there’s something more then you were right and we should find out.”

“You said there was nothing more and you thought getting rid of your soulmark would also neatly get rid of the bond, problem solved.”

“The bond is not a problem, Sergio!” Luka exclaims, reaching out for Sergio’s hand and sliding their fingers together. Words have failed him, the explanations have gotten them nowhere.

Sergio yanks his hand away. “I don’t need your pity.”

Luka wets his lips. “It’s not a pity, you idiot.”

“Puh. Then what is it?”

“You tell me,” Luka says and then he finally allows himself to take a leap of faith. He leans in close, impossibly close and he glances up into Sergio’s eyes but Sergio is not moving away and his eyes are wide and when Luka closes the remaining distance between them, Sergio’s hand automatically settles on Luka’s hip, welcoming his presence. Heart beating madly in his chest, Luka raises up his chin and presses their lips together. It’s such a quick kiss but Luka carefully catalogues away every sensation, the little twitch of Sergio’s fingers over Luka’s hip, the way Sergio’s lips are soft and pliant, the way he brushes them against Luka’s. It’s hardly more than a quick peck, only a little gesture but it took so much courage from Luka.

Luka has made himself clear and he is almost moving away to see what Sergio’s response will be like but Sergio makes a little noise of protest. Leaning down to Luka, Sergio brings his hands around Luka’s waist to pull him even closer. Their noses brush as Sergio angles his head to bring their lips together again and then they’re kissing for real. It’s exhilarating. It makes something warm blossom in Luka’s chest and Luka lets himself get completely lost in the kiss until he can’t breathe. Sergio makes the same displeased sound when Luka pulls away to suck some air into his lungs again. Luka brings his head down, resting it against Sergio’s shoulder, panting into his shirt. He’s taking in these gulping gasps of air as he struggles to get his breathing back under control.

Sergio laughs, a low rumbling sound. He snakes his arm up Luka’s back until he’s cupping the nape of Luka’s neck and tugging Luka closer. “Do it again,” he whispers into Luka’s ear and he slides their lips together.

But Luka can’t do it again. He breaks the kiss, gets on his feet to step away and says, still rather out of breath, “You should think about this–”

“I’ve thought about this,” Sergio murmurs, voice low. “A lot,” he adds before he chases after Luka’s lips with his own and for a moment, Luka gets lost in the kiss again. “Too much, frankly,” Sergio adds with a chuckle in between the kisses.

Luka tilts his head away. “No, Sergio. I need you to take a moment and really think about it. This would mean no bond–”

“No bond?” Sergio echoes. Suddenly, Sergio has his hand wrapped around Luka’s wrist and he rasps the words against Luka’s lips, “I can feel it, you idiot.” He presses a quick kiss to Luka’s temple before he pulls away with a weary sigh. “The bond, I can feel it.” Sergio’s fingers are stroking Luka’s cover and Luka’s heart is beating too fast for comfort. “It’s so darn faint but you can’t hide your worry and pain and hope from me. It’s all there, tangled up together,” Sergio says, bringing Luka’s wrist to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss just above the cover.

Luka pushes against Sergio’s shoulders and Sergio goes still before eventually drawing away from Luka. Luka lets out a sigh of relief because he needs Sergio to really think about what he’s saying because Luka can’t afford for Sergio to make any rush decisions he would regret later. “Just think it through, okay?”

“I don’t need to think about it,” Sergio says, eyes narrowing, “but maybe you do.”

“I don’t. No, Sergio, I really don’t.”

“You do,” Sergio says flatly. “Because what do you even want?”

Luka raises his hand towards Sergio but Sergio easily side steps him and Luka lets his hand fall.

Sergio gestures between them. “I can’t be… This isn’t just,” Sergio snaps his mouth shut in the middle of a sentence and shakes his head.

The room is cold without Sergio up in his space and Luka crosses his arms and does his best to ignore the sudden chill in the air. “I overheard you, you know,” Luka starts, “talking to Marcelo. You said you loved me. You meant it, right? What’s your problem now?”

Sergio laughs at that and it’s an unhappy sound. “Yeah, what the fuck is my problem indeed.”

Luka waits but Sergio doesn’t say anything else. Eventually, Luka cracks and he asks in a tone that frankly reveals too much emotion, “Why are you being like this?”

Sergio stares at him for a moment and then he deflates, shoulders dropping, head lowering, voice growing faint. “I’m going to bed,” he says. “Out for a run in the morning, you see. Better get some sleep before the game tomorrow. You should do the same.”

Luka’s mind is reeling, he has no clue where everything went so bad so soon. “Sergio, wait, we should–”

“Not a good idea, Luka,” Sergio says without letting Luka finish his sentence and then he stomps up the stairs and Luka is left standing there, in the middle of the living room, staring after Sergio, listening to the distant sounds of him moving upstairs before the house goes completely silent.

It takes Luka four tries to get his car started.

He can still feel the tingle of Sergio’s lips on his.

Made it home in one piece, Luka types out but then he changes his mind. The text he ends up sending to Sergio reads, Made it back to my place safely.

Chapter Text

“I hate this weather,” Vini grumbles as they wait for the shuttle bus to the stadium.

“You and me both,” Luka agrees and he tugs the sleeves of his jumper down to cover as much of his palms as possible. There is a light drizzle and the air is so chilly that there are clouds of soft moist coming from their mouths while they speak.

It’s a home game against Sevilla tonight and Sergio is already in his captain mode. Luka carefully doesn’t look at him because he doesn’t want to break his concentration.

“Someone hid my gloves,” Vini admits, rubbing his palms together before folding them under his armpits.

“Sounds like Nacho,” Luka says absent-mindedly. Sergio is talking to Rapha and usually he’s all smiles but he looks so serious right now that Luka can’t tell if he’s so focused on the game already (it’s Sevilla, after all) or if Sergio is not smiling because he has nothing to smile about.

“Oh my god,” Vini says and Luka’s eyes snap up to him in alarm but Vini has a wide-eyed, betrayed look on his face as he searches the crowd for Nacho.

Luka leaves him to it, mentally sending an apology to Nacho for revealing his prank. Then the bus finally comes to collect them. Luka gets on, finds Marce and plops down on the seat next to him, not waiting for an invitation.

Marce raises both of his eyebrows at Luka but he doesn’t voice any protests, probably because he is on the phone with Clarice again.

Luka shrugs, puts one earbud in and hits play to whatever has been playing last.

Luka is not trying to listen in but it’s impossible not to hear snippets of Marce’s conversation, especially once Marce starts cooing his usual ‘I love you more’ right next to Luka’s ear ad nauseam. Then, finally, Marce hangs up.

“Trouble in the paradise?” Marce says jokingly, pointing where Luka has been pressing the pad of his thumb against the cover on his other hand without realizing.

“Sergio and I are both fine,” Luka assures him.

Marce puts on a faux confused expression. “I thought that Spomenka was your soulmate.”

Aghast, Luka opens his mouth without knowing what to say. “I didn’t. Um.”

Marce hastens to talk over him. “It’s fine, Luka, seriously.”

“I just meant that we’re fully focused on the game,” Luka says.

Marce is still paying too much attention to him. “Yes, of course. Is there a reason you wouldn’t be?”

Luka reaches for his other earbud and jams it to his ear. “Just drop it, okay?”

Marcelo, bless him, does just that, giving Luka one long puzzled look before picking up his phone and starting to text someone, probably Clarice again.

Sergio boards the bus, holding his palms up for high-fives as he moves through the aisle towards the back of the bus and Luka’s quickly schools his face before Sergio sees his dark, haunted expression.

During the pre-game warm-up, Gareth reinjures his shin. Luka sees it happen right next to him, just one funny step and then Gareth is on the ground, grimacing in pain and that’s definitely not a good start for them. Whispers about Gareth’s future being at stakes were already circling the media before today’s match and Luka thinks it’s a small mercy it’s not Gareth’s turn to be at the press conference afterwards.

He offers Gareth a hand to pull him back to his feet but Gareth shakes his head. “Hang on a second, mate,” Gareth says, strained. Luka is almost raising up his arm to flag the teams’ doctor when Gareth hisses, “Don’t grass me up.”

Luka barely manages to keep his voice down. “You took painkillers already?”

Gareth’s silence is more than enough of an answer.

“Fuck,” Luka says and it’s clear to him in that moment that they’ve just lost a sixth player due to an injury.

He watches Gareth limp off the pitch with mixed feelings.

“Get a grip, man,” Sergio suddenly says right behind Luka and a second later, Luka’s shoulder is getting squeezing tightly. “I have a good feeling about this game.”

“You do?” He asks and can’t help the incredulous tone creeping into his voice. Even Keylor is out with an injury instead of guarding their net.

“Sure,” Sergio says, reaching for Luka like nothing is wrong between them. Stunned, Luka lets himself get pulled into the embrace. “I’m counting on you,” Sergio says and his hand is patting Luka on his back before moving to the nape of his neck and then gliding up to tangle in Luka’s hair.

Luka’s breath catches in his throat as he tries to say, “Sure.”

Sergio brings his other hand to cup the side of Luka’s face before he cards his fingers through Luka’s hair, leaving it even a bigger mess than it was already. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Luka echoes meekly, his hand clinging to Sergio’s waist.

“Good. We’ve got this,” Sergio says and then there’s a feather-light kiss to Luka’s forehead before Sergio moves away.

Luka ducks his head, smiling and he trots to join Case. If he’s a little breathless, no one can tell why. The stands are already starting to fill and even if anyone saw his flushed cheeks, they wouldn’t be any wiser.

All the way across the pitch, Sergio is stretching his arms as he chats with Isco. He turns, catches Luka’s gaze, gives Luka a thumbs-up and a grin so bright Luka would never suspect how fragile things are between them tight now.

“Stop flirting on the pitch,” Marce says, sharply elbowing Luka’s side to get his attention.

“I’m not flirting,” Luka says quickly, turning to face Marce instead of Sergio. “Period.”

Marce gives him an amused look. “Do I have to remind you how flirty you are when you’re drunk?”

“I’m not flirty, you liar.”

“Not in general, no,” Marce allows. “It seems to be Sergio-specific. You’re more attuned to him and I think maybe the alcohol lets you feel the bond you don’t let yourself feel otherwise.”

“There is no bond, Marcelo.”

“Just focus on the fucking game, all right?” Marce gives him a hard shove that almost makes Luka lose his footing.

“No problem,” Luka says and he can’t help but add, “Sergio’s enthusiasm is catching.”

“Catching, indeed,” Marce drawls. “I’ve seen that one before.”

“Shut up.”

Chapter Text

“Are you ready?” Sergio barely manages to keep his pent up energy under control, all but bouncing off the walls shortly before the match begins.

Luka gives him a determined nod, then tucks a loose strand of his hair behind his ear and keeps it in place by the elastic band. Out of habit, he checks his soulmark cover. The low hum of anticipation sits tight in his belly. “Ready.”

The look Sergio gives him as he slaps him on his shoulder in absolutely focused. That is his captain speaking. There is nothing but the game that has his attention when they step from the tunnel to the bright pitch side by side.

“Bring it on,” Marce calls.

“They’re gonna eat our dust,” Lucas croons.

“We’ll make sure of it,” Sergio says, elbowing Luka’s side.

“We will,” Luka vows.

The stadium hums with noise as they line up before the match a few minutes after four in the evening. They lose the coin toss and when Sevilla picks the left side of the pitch Luka catches the jerk of Sergio’s head, confirming their strategy. He glances at Case, who blinks before looking away. Lucas is already drifting to a side of the pitch as the game goes into motion.

Sergio’s good feeling about the game proves to be correct. Not even five minutes in, Sergio breaks free, making a run for it.

The ball soars just shy of touching the crossbar.

It’s not a goal but a chance Real needed to get them going. Only a few moments later, it’s Case who powers through the Sevilla’s defence.

They are on a roll, there’s no stopping them now. Sergio was right. This time, they’ll make it.

They bring Sevilla down by a goal before the first half is over and add another to make the final score 2–0 for Real. The fans are ecstatic, the team is celebrating while they’re still on the pitch and the delighted gleam is back in Sergio’s eyes, making him look more alive than Luka recalls from the past few weeks.

But eventually the fans go home, the celebrations end and Sergio once again refuses to look him in the eye. The elation of the game is over and the atmosphere is tense and unfamiliar between them.

Luka wants it gone but he doesn’t know how to arrange that.

Once the annoying post-game briefing is over and the coach lets them go, Luka heads straight back to his place. He avoids running into Sergio just as diligently as he avoids the press.

Something has to give because Luka can’t go on like this any longer. His guilt merges with yearning, the ever present coldness inside of him gives way to the memories of the light-hearted warmth Sergio has always brought into his life.

Luka wants it back. He wants to be believed, to be taken seriously, to let Sergio know how much has changed and how much Luka is willing to change to make things work. It was Sergio who pointed out that the mark is only a small part of the soulbond and Luka clings to the hope it gives him.

Before the oppressive silence of his house grates on Luka’s nerves, he grabs his keys and heads out.

Without thought, Luka’s legs carry him to Nadya’s. He almost reaches the door, almost steps in but through the window, he spots Naranča behind the counter, beaming at Marco. Marco doesn’t even have any food in front of him. He’s just there, keeping her company though her shift, staring at her like she’s his queen.

The guilt is back with full force, the weight of it almost making Luka stumble. He turns away on the spot and keeps walking. He keeps walking and walking until his left shin throbs. Only then he turns to head back to his house.

There are things more pressing than the little comfort of Nadya’s shop.

It’s funny, the way he misses Sergio. It’s funny because he misses Sergio who is right there, basically within a reach of his fingertips but at the same time, he’s not right here.

Luka tries to take a page from Sergio’s book and focus solely on the game. Football first, emotional mayhem later.

Nothing else exists.

Except, the media exist.

Luka’s luck runs out and the reporters get to him. It catches him by surprise, only a couple of days later when he’s getting back from their training facilities. They’re up against Girona next but the reporters have other things on their mind. Luka can’t escape the press.

He really hoped their curiosity would have ebbed away by now but it seems that his silence on the topic has only managed to make things worse.

There is a whole mob of reporters between the facility and his car. Luka picks up his pace.

The shouts of the reporters merge into one endless cacophony.

Luka!

Anything to say?

Luka!

Where is Spomenka?

Can you tell us about Spomenka?

Could you tell me where your soulmate is?

Did you break up with her?

Just a quick question, Luka. Where is Spomenka?

Anything you wanna say?

“No comment!” Luka shouts and makes a run for it.

Back at his place, he doesn’t even manage to park the car when his phone goes off. It’s Solari and to say he isn’t pleased would be an understatement.

“You! You’re benched,” Solari seethes into the phone.

“Okay,” Luka says meekly, dread spreading through his veins like ice. He lets Solari rage for another few minutes before he dares to ask, “Just this game or–?”

“We’ll see. I don’t want you anywhere near the stadium tomorrow. Actually, I don’t want to see your face anywhere! Stay hidden. Figure out your story. You’re up for the press conference next week anyway so make the story good. You’re going to charm everyone after we play Atleti.”

“Yes, sir.” There really isn’t any other answer.

He sits in his drive way, the phone in his lap, staring into nothing.

His phone chimes again and when Luka glances down, he notes it’s Sergio trying to make a videocall.

Luka accepts the call and Sergio’s worried face fills in the frame.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

“The press got a nasty jump on you, though,” Sergio points out.

“I’m fine,” Luka insists.

Sergio clicks his tongue. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Solari called. I got benched.”

“Luka–”

Luka’s heart clenches. “I can’t do this,” he manages before promptly ending the call while Sergio is still trying to get a word in.

The car is silent.

“Darn it,” Luka curses and throws his phone on the passenger seat.

He doesn’t sleep one wink. The days blur together.

Luka ends up watching the game against Girona on the TV in his living room, feeling completely useless.

Things don’t look so promising at first but about thirty minutes in, Benze opens up the score and then adds another goal. Marcos also adds one to his tally.

Luka watches as Gareth gets subbed in and Sergio gets subbed out.

Marce and Rapha are diligent in their defence. Girona sneaks one goal past them near the end but Real pulls through.

Just like they do with Espanyol and Alavés.

It’s when they’re playing against Atleti that everything takes a sudden nosedive.

Atleti opens up the score with a quick, lucky shot from Griezmann who bluffs the direction of the shot by leaning his body as if he were to shoot to the left and then sending the ball to the right with a force Keylor stood no chance against.

Keylor swears up a stream. The words, Luka doesn’t understand but he does understand that frustrated tone.

It looks even worse when not even seven minutes later, Saúl’s shot bounces off the left post. They’re deep back on the pitch, defending instead of attacking, yielding instead of exploiting Atleti’s mistakes. Atleti’s left side could provide them with a good opening, Luka can see it. They’re just not fast enough, they take too long to respond, they keep losing the ball before they can get into the counterattack.

Luka takes a yellow card that earns him a look so sharp from Solari it could cut through bones.

The half-time couldn’t come soon enough.

Sergio is furious, the fire burning in his eyes more intensely than Luka remembers seeing in a long while. He’s talking with great passion, delivering one of his rousing speeches and Luka can feel the change in them. Sergio is getting all of them hungry for Atleti’s blood, doing a better job at it than the empty phrases the coach used before. Sergio means every word.

Luka starts feeling like they could turn this one around but they need something more to throw Atleti off their game.

“We need to restructure things,” Luka points out and Sergio’s attention snaps to him, assessing.

“Keep talking.”

Luka explains what he’d been thinking about, reshuffling a few players, catching Atleti off guard.

Sergio keeps adding ideas and the guys keep nodding.

Then they hug and pat each other on the back, getting ready for the fight during the second half. Sergio makes a few quips that have the guys laughing right before they walk back on the pitch. When they march out, Luka feels the electricity. They’re determined to turn this game around. And that’s exactly what they do.

They don’t waste any time and when the first opportunity presents itself, they make a break for it, Luka finds Benze, sends him the ball and Benze passes to his right to Lucas. Lucas doesn’t hesitate. He picks up the ball and runs with it the remaining distance, waiting for the moment the goalkeeper picks a side to fall to and the second he sees the movement, Lucas shoots, sending the ball flying into the net.

The stadium erupts into deafening cheers.

It’s going to be their night.

Luka’s flying across the pitch, heavy on the defence, skilfully making space in the midfield, giving short passes so accurate that the strikers keep firing one chance after another.

He is no replacement for Toni but Case takes up that spot.

Sergio is on fire, too. One second he takes the ball forward to the game, the next he oozes back into his position to diminish their opponent’s stray shot at the goal. He scores off a penalty kick and Luka finds himself jumping on his back in celebrations.

Near the end of the match, Luka manages to feed Gareth a beautiful curling pass that Gareth turns into a goal so pretty even the guys on the bench run towards the pitch to cheer on him. Luka looks over his shoulder and there Sergio is, first to embrace him, first to yell praises about the pass.

They finally figure out how to cut into Atleti’s makeshift defence and in the end, they bring Atleti down 3–1.

When the final whistle blows and Real wins, Luka is so high on their victory that he has to actively stop himself from kissing Sergio full on the lips.

Someone else shakes his shoulders and gives him a tight squeeze but then there’s Sergio again. Sergio hauls him close and shouts wordless screams of delight right into Luka’s ear. Luka laughs and laughs. He hasn’t felt so light in forever.

He wants to share the joy of the win with his soulmate and his soulmate is right here. But so is the press. They would capture the kiss and have it plastered all across the media by the hour.

The thought gives Luka a stop.

It wouldn’t be a disaster. It wouldn’t – couldn’t – be any worse than the perpetual hiding and lying and worrying.

He could be free.

It’s just like Ivan said; the reporters are hungry for answers.

Luka would very much like to give them an answer without ever saying an actual word.

Sergio is grinning from ear to ear. “What a game, huh?”

“The best,” Luka agrees.

“You were the best,” Sergio says, earnest. He leans close and presses a kiss to Luka’s cheek, catching the corner of his mouth. Luka’s heartbeat skyrockets, fingers digging into Sergio’s arms. Sergio laughs and pecks Luka’s cheek again, shouting something Luka doesn’t quite catch but he doesn’t need the exact words to know how sweet it feels to win again.

With the phantom kiss lingering on his lips, it feels like he’s won more than just the game.

The determination grows in him.

He’ll make amends.

The press conference Solari assigned to him is about to begin. Luka has created chances, he made a lovely sharp pass to Vini and one even more beautiful to Gareth that lead to the third goal. At one point Luka was just a few inches shy from scoring himself, and altogether he contributed to several dangerous shots.

Exiting the lockers, Luka’s exhaustion catches up with him but he feels accomplished about the game. Sergio joins his side, slinging his arm around Luka’s shoulders, tucking him close.

“Solari said to show up my face, too.”

“You’re the captain, after all,” Luka says, grinning. Suddenly, the task of facing the media doesn’t seem so daunting at all. Real fought well.

But the reporters don’t ask about any of it. All they want to know is if he’s looking into ways to meet Spomenka or if they’ve already met.

Real wins and nobody cares.

There are other things the reporters care about more.

Luka can’t believe it. He’s had the PR team prep him for today but he simply didn’t account for the sheer level of intensity the media provide. It’s all about Spomenka. None of the questions are aimed at the other players. It’s just as bad as when they’ve mobbed him in the parking lot last week.

Luka!

Where is your Spomenka?

Luka! Luka! Luka!

The languages change, the tones change but the topic remains the same.

All they want to know is where Spomenka is, if they spent the holidays together, how did they meet. The questions never stop.

The room is full of reporters, all faces are eagerly turned to Luka.

Luka feels tears prickle in his eyes. It’s the exhaustion, it’s the frustration. But he refuses to let them fall.

“If we could focus on the game,” Luka tries in vain. The reporters are determined. They can’t focus on the game.

Has he met any of the Spomenkas the press has found out about living in Madrid? In which church did he and Spomenka get married? Has he bought a new house with her? Did he meet her before moving to Spain or after?

Luka skirts around the series of questions but then something rather innocuous gets to him. It’s too painful, too wrong.

What does Spomenka think about Real’s captain? Have they met? Do they get along?

It’s absurd. Sergio is Spomenka, for all it represents.

Something coiled tight in Luka breaks free. It’s inevitable – it’s time for the truth.

“I’ll tell you what,” Luka snaps and the room goes quiet at his tone, hushed in expectation. He sees their PR guy go tense to Luka’s left side but Luka’s mind is made. It’s a decision born out of anger and despair but it just makes him more honest.

The idea has been on his mind, one of many possible ways to end the constant witchhunt for Spomenka. But this final push, Luka didn’t see coming. His heartbeat is picking up, body going tense as if readying for a fight, as if the match is only about to begin now, even though they’ve already won.

They won but nobody cares. All they want to know about is Spomenka. To hell with them all.

There must be something about his posture, something about his tone that has Sergio’s eyes snapping up at him in rapt attention.

Luka keeps looking at the reporters. They want answers. They’ll have answers. They don’t understand shit about soulmates the hard way Luka has learnt.

Marco and Naranča found each other easy. Mirica’s Spomenka and her Luca found each other and things were not so easy. And Gareth lost his soulmate before he truly met her.

If the reporters wanted a pretty story to sell their papers, they should have pestered Marco.

“Some soulbonds come easy,” Luka says, measuring his words carefully. “Some do not. Sometimes the timing isn’t right and sometimes other people intervene. And sometimes, a person has to suffer because their soulmate keeps making things difficult for both of them.”

Halfway through Luka’s rant, Sergio must realize what’s about to happen. He reaches under the table to give Luka’s knee a reassuring squeeze.
Out of the corner of his eye, Luka catches Sergio’s look. Sergio tilts his head in encouragement. Luka takes a steadying breath.

“I have no idea where you got that picture of my wrist but it’s as fake as pictures get.”

Murmurs of protest start rising.

Fingers hidden behind the table, Luka fiddles with the clasp of his cover.

“And I can prove it to you, that you’ve been wrong,” Luka goes on. “That you’ve been wrong each time you found a Spomeka and tried get an interview with her, thinking she might be the one for me. Shame on you for each time you were harassing some poor girl who just happened to have a name you thought was a companion to mine.”

The cover slides off and Luka slowly places it on the table in front of him, keeping his marked hand hidden in his lap.

The murmurs intensify.

Besides him, Sergio’s eyes go wide and his fingers twitch before hastily undoing his own cover as well.

Luka’s voice doesn’t waver. “You were all wrong. Because Spomenka is not the name of my soulmate.”

It’s a complete chaos after that.

Luka is smiling. It’s a sharp smile, almost manic in intensity but he’s smiling because he can’t quite laugh at their shocked faces out right.

“This is my soulmate’s name.” The name is right. The soulmark is not but nobody has to know unless they sneak a look too close for comfort.

Luka raises his hand and puts it on top of the table, naked wrist facing the cameras.

Sergio cackles. In a flash, he presses his own hand into Luka’s with their fingers intertwined. Sergio’s hand is half-covering Luka’s wrist.

Luka’s heartbeat is so strong he can feel it in his throat.

“Funny thing,” Sergio calls out, voice strong and clear, easily carrying over the frantic rabbiting of the reporters. “You’re all always so busy asking Luka about his soulmate but you’ve long stopped pestering me about mine.” Without loosening his grip on Luka’s fingers, Sergio also tilts his wrist sideways to the reporters.

With his cover gone, Luka’s name is clearly visible on the underside of Sergio’s wrist.

The flashes of cameras start going off.

Luka can’t tear his eyes away from the dark swirls of his own name etched into Sergio’s skin. The soulmark. The real one.

Luka has never seen it before. Now the whole world can see it. His heart feels fluttery.

He wiggles his fingers a little and reaches with his thumb to brush against Sergio’s mark. Sergio’s breath hitches. Luka’s fingers are tingling.

Sergio’s eyes are impossibly wide, he must finally feel the depth at which their bond is accepted.

Someone is screaming. Maybe it’s the reporters or maybe it’s someone from the team. Luka doesn’t care because the look Sergio is giving him is so intense Luka can’t tear his eyes away.

Then someone – Marce, it must be Marce – grabs his elbow and his cover and guides him out of the room while the reporters are shouting one over the other, accusations, questions, more questions and Luka doesn’t have an ounce of care about any of that.

“Are you insane?” Solari barks out when they pass him.

“Yes,” Luka says. “Yes, I believe I am.” His mother would certainly say so.

“What the fuck?” Marce – Luka knew it must have been him – demands the moment they’re out of sight from the reporters.

Luka can’t answer.

“I can’t believe you really did that,” Sergio says, laughter in his voice.

Luka is shaking, hands cold and sweaty and he can’t believe he did it either and it’s such an overpowering feeling of lightness that Luka can’t deal with it.

Two warm hands settle their comforting weight around Luka’s waist and Luka finds it easier to breathe.

“Ah. Hey, Luka. You’re okay,” Sergio murmurs. “You hear me? It’s okay.”

“Is it though?”

“Of course.”

Luka feels like things won’t ever be okay but he also can’t find it within himself to care. “Oh my god.”

Sergio takes him in his arms and presses a soft kiss to his brow. “You’re freaking out,” he tells Luka quietly.

“I’m trying not to,” Luka responds truthfully. He’s trying really hard but his hands are shaking and his voice is shaking and when he tries to take in a calming breath, he can hear how shaky it is as well.

“I believe I owe you a few explanations,” Luka says.

“I think you owe all of us a few explanations,” Marce finally cuts in. “But it can wait. You two need to get out of here asap. They’re bound to try to ambush you.”

“Your car?” Sergio asks Marce, hopeful.

Marce, bless him, hands over his car keys without hesitation.

Maybe Marce understands more about their soulbond than Luka gave him credit for.

“Where did that come from, Luka?” Sergio asks the moment they reach the safety of the car where no curious ears could overhear them talk.

Luka doesn’t answer at first, carefully picking the words in his mind. He fidgets in his seat as he does so, fingers clenching over the edge of his seat when several seconds tick by and he still hasn’t figured out how to explain himself to Sergio.

“Put on your seatbelt,” Sergio says when the silence last too long. “I’m taking you home before the reporters set camp on our front lawn.”

Sergio switches on the radio and drives them to his place.

His hands are steady and if he drives a smidge faster than is necessarily safe, there is no one to complain.

Sergio kills the engine and glances over.

Luka can’t quite hide they way he’s still shaking like a leaf.

“You won’t be able to take it back now,” Sergio says carefully.

“I don’t want to take it back,” Luka quickly responds. “I just can’t believe I really told them. I wanted to tell them so many times.”

A tentative smile makes it to Sergio’s face. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“No take backs?”

“No take backs,” Luka assures, then takes a deep breath. “You’re my soulmate, Sergio. I love you. I’m hundred percent in.”

Sergio’s smile turns so bright and his look so earnest that Luka has to look away, flustered. “Me too,” Sergio says as he unfastens his seatbelt. “Come on, let’s get you inside before they start flying drones over the house.”

“As if there wasn’t enough drama already,” Luka grumbles and hurries after Sergio. “You don’t mind, right? You’ve said…”

“I don’t. But Marcelo looked like he was about to blow a fuse,” Sergio smirks. “I think you’ll have to apologize to him for telling the press first instead of confiding in him.”

With a groan, Luka sinks into his favourite spot on the couch. “Ivan is going to kill me.” Then, a thought, even more horrifying, “Your mum is going to kill me.”

Sergio cackles. “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

“I’m worried about everything!”

Sergio settles next to him on the couch. “Luka. No need to worry about anything. No need to worry about my mum. Also, she’s known about my mark since I was a little kid.”

Luka’s tone turns incredulous. “You’ve told her?”

Sergio shrugs. “She was the first person to know.”

“Wow.”

Sergio clears his throat. “Lukita. You should probably let your mother know else she is going to be the last person to know. Don’t let the media get to her first.”

Luka takes in a shuddering breath. “She already knows.”

That gets Sergio’s attention. “What?”

“Well, I’m not sure if she knows about us but she knows about the soulmark I got removed. I showed her the scar. That’s why she stopped talking to me that time you had to pick me up when I flew back from Zagreb early.”

“I remember that. She must have been– puh. I’m sorry, Luka.”

Luka studies the familiar pattern of the floor. “I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wanted her to know,” Luka says, then after a beat, he adds, “I wanted you to know, too.”

Sergio presses closer. “I’ve wanted to know since forever.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sergio tucks an unruly strand of Luka’s hair behind his ear. “We’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry about… everything.”

“You certainly caught us all by surprise,” Sergio acknowledges. “That a new addition?” He jerks his chin to Luka’s wrist.

Luka’s cheeks colour slightly. “Wanted to make things as right as I could. Wanted to make you realize I meant it.”

“Should have trusted you before,” Sergio mutters but Luka thinks Sergio was right to be wary after all the lies and half-truths Luka has fed him over the years.

“Should have told you before,” Luka says, stretching his arm towards Sergio to get their hands linked together again.

“Let me?” Sergio asks, gesturing to Luka’s wrist.

“Sergio–”

“I knew I could feel something. But I wasn’t sure if it was the bond or not. I thought I was going insane, seeing things only because I desperately wanted to see them there. It about killed me when you said that you weren’t my soulmate in that hotel room.”

“I said I didn’t have your name,” Luka feels the need to point out. He wonders if his happiness will always have the bittersweet tinge of remorse in it. “That was true. It’s still true, Sergio. I don’t have your name.”

“You’ve always had my name,” Sergio says simply, fingers fleetingly letting go of Luka’s wrist to press lightly against Luka’s chest, right above his pounding heart. “And now you’ve added it back to where it belongs.” His fingers wrap around Luka’s wrist, right above the name.

“I’m so sorry,” Luka says, voice tight with emotions. “Without the mark, I’ll never feel your side of the bond.”

“You won’t,” Sergio echoes softly. His fingers are back to brushing against the edges of Luka’s tattoo.

“Sorry.”

Sergio’s intertwines their fingers again, just like he did at the press conference. “Shhh. I know. Stop saying that.”

“But I–”

Sergio cuts him off with a shake of his head. “It was meant to be this way. It was meant to happen like this. Had you kept it, they wouldn’t have let you play football and we wouldn’t have met.”

A single tear escapes from the corner of Luka’s eye and he furiously rubs at it with his free hand because it’s one thing to mourn the things that he erased from existence in the private of his own house and it’s quite another to let Sergio see this weakness in him.

“It’s okay,” Sergio says in a soft tone as he pulls Luka closer, his arms wrapping around Luka in a bear hug. “It’s okay. Let it go. We’re okay.”

If he’s saying it, it must be true.

Unbidden, more tears come.

“I know, I know,” Sergio says. “It hurts.”

“So much,” Luka breathes out.

In a familiar move, Sergio presses his lips to Luka’s hair. “It does. But I’m so glad you’ve made your decision.”

Luka wonders how much of the bond can Sergio feel on his end. So he asks.

“Just about enough,” Sergio smiles as he holds him close.

Then, Luka’s phone rings because he forgot to put it on mute. It’ll probably keep ringing off the wall for the foreseeable future and Luka moves to power it down completely when the name on the screen caches his attention.

He suppresses a sniffle. “Your mum is calling me,” he tells Sergio, puzzled.

Sergio doesn’t find it weird at all. “Probably just wants to make sure you’re okay after all that.”

Luka answers the call, wondering if it’s the newly accepted bond that keeps sending his emotions haywire.

The call is sweet and brief and when Luka’s mum hangs up, Luka has come a startling realisation.

“There wasn’t any doubt in your mind,” Luka tells Sergio.

“Hn.” Sergio rests his hand at the nape of Luka’s neck. He doesn’t ask what Luka means. “It was meant to be.”

“Oh.”

Luka wonders how long they’ve been together without him realizing it.

Sergio raises up an eyebrow. “Well, if it weren’t for you, how else would have Marco met Eefje?”

Luka barks out a laugh, surprising himself with the sound. For the first time, he starts believing that they really are going to be okay. Sergio has never wavered and Luka has never been able to look away either.

Luka tugs at the hem of his sleeve. “What are we going to do now?”

Sergio settles back comfortably on the sofa and pats a spot next to him. “Let’s play that horror game you gave me for Christmas, that would be fitting. Because if anyone from the PR gets a hold of you, you’re also as good as ‘dead by daylight’.”

“I’ve survived worse,” Luka says.

Feather light, Sergio runs his fingers across the scar on Luka’s wrist.

The gentle touch makes Luka shiver.

Sergio sighs. “What kind of a monster could do that to a child?”

Luka’s heart does a funny flip at that because despite everything, Sergio will always have a different perspective. There are things he still doesn’t understand – he can’t understand what he hasn’t been through himself. Maybe that’s for the best.

“Not monsters. Heroes. They’ve saved many lives that would have been doomed otherwise.”

Sergio’s eyes jerk up, a familiar frown settling between his brows. “Ah.”

“Things were different for you. Here, in Spain,” Luka says, voice quiet. With the pad of his thumb, he reaches over to smooth out the worried frown line between Sergio’s brows.

“They really were. I’m sorry it wasn’t like that for you.”

Sergio doesn’t understand but he still wants to help, wants to protect what he loves and Luka feels a sudden surge of affection for him.

He lurches forward, arms wrapping around Sergio’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

He opens his lips for Sergio and this time he’s taken up on the offer. He smiles into the kiss as Sergio slides their tongues together, cradling Luka’s face with one hand and letting his other glide down the length of Luka’s back before settling on his waist.

When Luka makes to pull away for a breath, Sergio lets out a small noise of protest, fingers squeezing tighter around Luka’s hip before letting go.

“Wait here. Don’t move.”

Luka wiggles free, then rushes upstairs to grab something very important from his room. When he returns, Sergio is watching him with interest and Luka wavers for a moment. “I still haven’t… There. It’s your present.”

Sergio laughs. “For Christmas? A little late, isn’t it?”

“It’s never late. And you can’t say no! It’s a present.”

Sergio reaches over to take the envelope from Luka. He arches an eyebrow.

“I mean, you can. It’s just– just open it.”

Sergio does, then lets out a startled laugh. It’s the paperwork for Sergio’s new boat. It’s called Raspilla and it’s anchored in Trogir, waiting for them to arrive in summer. “Really?”

Luka shrugs. “Thought you’d enjoy that. You took care of the winter holidays, figured it’s my turn.”

Sergio shakes his head but his eyes are smiling. “How did you even come up with that?”

Luka shrugs, tone going cheeky. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to keep calling you my captain over the summer break.”

“Come here,” Sergio says, voice husky, arms outstretched.

Sergio crushes him in a tight hug and then he keeps dropping tiny kisses to their joined hands until Luka laughs again.

Sometime later, Luka musters the energy to go prepare them something for dinner.

Sergio whines when Luka gets up but after a while, he joins him in the kitchen, pulling up the stool next to the counter where he knows he won’t get under Luka’s feet.

Luka frowns as he opens the fridge. The vegetable drawer has been fully restocked. He grabs the broccoli. He grabs a saucepan.

Sergio breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?”

“My sisters.”

“Ah. Okay,” Sergio says. “We could stop by and give them a visit over the summer,” he offers easily, pointing with his thumb back to the living room where the envelope still lays on the table.

“Oh. That would be…” Luka trails off. It would be nice, he figures. It would be painful, too.

Sergio gets up and gives Luka a loose hug from behind, keeping Luka’s hands free to separate the broccoli from its leaves. “I know. But you’ll make it.”

The confession slips easily from Luka’s lips, “I want to tell them about everything.”

Sergio hums in agreement. He noses at Luka’s hair and mouths a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“I should tell my mother,” Luka says, because it’s easier to say it when his back is to Sergio. He slowly washes the broccoli under a stream of water, puts it in the saucepan and fills it with more water.

Sergio catches on immediately. “Do you want to tell her?”

“No. But I should.” He should warn her before the media set tents in front of her house. He doubts she’ll pick up his call but he should try regardless. He turns on the stove. He watches his hands. He washes his palms. He washes under his nails.

“Ah Luka,” Sergio reaches over to stop the water. “Come here,” he says and Luka goes with a sigh, following into the living room and sinking to the couch, letting himself be comforted and forgetting about the world.

The broccoli ends up a soggy mess.

Sergio lets out a quiet, breathy laugh as he peeks over Luka’s shoulder and sees the green mush.

Luka shoves the colander back into the cupboard and turns to face Sergio, hands sneaking around his waist. “Is Marco doing anything this afternoon? We could meet with him and Eefje at Nadya’s for a meal.” He’s probably butchering up her name again.

Sergio kisses his temple. “You have the best of ideas,” he drawls.

Luka takes him to Nadya’s.

When they get there, Naranča gives them one look and then she’s hurrying over to them. She gives Luka a tight squeeze, then turns to study Sergio.

“Thanks again for the cake. It was delicious.” Sergio offers her a grin. “What’s today’s special?”

“I’ll bring you the menu. And here is your usual, Luka.”

“What are you having?” Sergio asks, locking his chin over Luka’s shoulder as he gives Luka’s plate a considering look.

“Garlic soup.”

Sergio scrunches his nose. “Ew.”

“No one is forcing you to eat it.”

“No one is kissing you after that. And stop slurping.”

“I’m not.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

“You seem distracted,” Luka notes. “You keep checking the phone. Is something up? Marco running late?”

Sergio heaves a dramatic sigh. “As a matter of fact, he is. But that’s not it. Have you heard from Marcelo?”

“I haven’t.”

“Me neither. I think he’s ignoring me.”

Luka ponders it for a moment. “Or maybe,” he says, gesturing between them with a spoon, “he’s respectfully giving you and your soulmate some private time to work things through after that media shitstorm.”

Sergio brightens. “Ah! Cool. That must be it.” Then he spots Naranča heading to their table. “I’ll have the chicken broth, please.”

“Sure,” she says. “Marco should be here in a minute.”

“Make that twenty,” Sergio smirks.

Naranča sighs. “Yeah, I’ve learnt that.”

“Like you’re any better,” Luka says under his breath but Sergio catches that and turns his head to give Luka a wounded look.

Marco manages to turn up some fifty minutes later. By that time, Luka and Sergio are already done eating and Luka’s eyes are slowly getting heavy.

Marco talks a mile a minute. He orders them some overly sweet wine and Naranča keeps going back and forth between their table and serving the other guests. Somehow she never loses track of the topic of their conversation, doing a better job at it than Luka, who is feeling more and more sleepy with every passing minute.

Then Naranča finally sits with them at their table, heaving a tired sigh. She pours herself a glass as well and takes a long sip.

Marco stops narrating the story within a story he’s been telling and reaches over, catching Naranča’s hand and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “When did you says you’re done with work today?”

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

“Good.”

Luka looks over at Sergio who immediately catches his gaze. Luka tilts his head and Sergio nods.

They say their goodbyes.

Before Luka makes it out of the door, Nadya comes around the counter and hauls him into a hug. “It’s good to see you aren’t lost anymore,” she tells him and pushes him after Sergio, out of the door.

Barely containing his pleased smile, Luka follows after Sergio to the streets with a spring to his step. There is nothing now that could dim the lightness he feels inside.

Nothing. Not even Real’s winning streak going up in flames.

In the semi-final of Copa del Rey, they lose 0-3 to Barcelona. The culés are delighted. Real is miserable.

It’s a shit game.

Luka almost sends the goal flying past the goalkeeper.

Almost.

The goalkeeper stretches his arms and his fingers brush against the ball. By some miracle, it’s enough to push it out of its course and away from the net.

The game is full of chances that Barcelona somehow always manages to stop.

Sooner then they’d like, the whistle blows and Real loses.

Not even a week later, they’re up against Barcelona again in La Liga and Real loses again. This time the score reads 0–1 but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

The stadium is once again filled with chants that aren’t theirs. Fans are singing praises to their heroes and Real has to leave the pitch for their dressing rooms instead of celebrating.

Three days later, they lose 1–4 to Ajax and are out of the Champions League.

“What a shit game,” Marce says, spitting on the ground.

“What a shit year,” Luka sighs.

“Next time,” Gareth says, patting his back as he joins them in the lockers.

“Next season,” Benze agrees and thumps Luka’s back hard enough to bruise.

“Heck yeah,” Luka says, nodding. “We’ll get them next year.” He puts on a brave face, even though he isn’t sure if there’s any of truth to his words.

Luka wonders if he’ll be there the next season with Real. If he won’t be dropped now that their soulbond is known. If they’ll still want him on the team. He wonders if him or Sergio will get transferred. He hopes not – and no one has said anything – but they can never know for sure.

Sergio appears at his side, pulling at his arm, stealing him from Gareth and Benze to hug him. “It’s still been the most important season. Even without the title,” Sergio says quietly, pressing a kiss to Luka’s hair.

“No doubts.” Luka’s smile turns more genuine and his step turns just a little lighter. No title would ever be cherished more than his soulbond.

Chapter Text

The first text that comes through when Luka switches his phone back on is from Ivan. It simply reads, Congrats on finally scoring that Panenka.

Spomenka, Luka texts back out of habit. Then, Sergio. Thanks. He hopes his gratitude comes through.

Many other texts and missed calls follow but the one number Luka has been hoping to see isn’t there. He puts the phone into an airplane mode and pockets it just as Sergio comes out of the house, carrying three different suitcases.

“Travel light, you’ve said,” Luka reprimands lightly.

“Prepare for fun, you’ve said,” Sergio retorts. “I was promised the summer of my life.”

They’re both unofficially benched until the worse of the media storm blows over.

“I said no such thing. And it’s not even summer yet.”

Defying the laws of physics, Sergio crams all his three suitcases into the entirely too small trunk of the car. “You were thinking it, though.”

Luka can’t deny that.

“What’s that?” Luka points at something Sergio has carefully put on top of his compressed pile of bags.

Sergio grins. “Something for the boat.”

Luka looks closer and makes a guess, “Stickers?”

Sergio smacks his hand away but not before Luka catches the sight of the little blue forget-me-not flowers.

“They’ll fit right bellow the name.”

“They will,” Luka manages, throat tight with emotion.

The morning air at sea has a specific freshness to it that Luka has missed. The boat under his hands is moving through the waves with ease, the coast is clear. No press, no football, no obligations.

The sunrise paints the whole sky pale gold.

They’re headed from Trogir to Zadar. Somewhere northbound lays Zagreb. It’s Sunday. Luka wonders if his mother is watering her flowers. He wonders if she’d still defend the double soul principle.

“Lost in thoughts?” Sergio rasps. “Surprised to see you up so early.”

“Just admiring the view,” Luka says and laughs when Sergio strikes a pose and flexes.

“Then by all means.”

Luka runs his eyes over Sergio’s form, appreciative. Then he notes Sergio’s wide yawn. “It’s funny how you’re always first up in the mornings but now you could sleep the day away.”

“I’m on vacation!” Sergio defends. “And anyway, you’ve said no take backs,” he reminds Luka lightly.

“I was thinking,” Luka starts but doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I knew it!” Sergio exclaims.

“Shut up. I was thinking we could take diving lessons.”

“Yes! Is there anything around Murter?” Sergio wonders, quickly typing away the search into his phone.

Luka has came prepared, though. “Yes, in Kornati National Park.”

“I’m not going to say no to that.”

“I figured,” Luka says, pleased.

Sergio looks up from his phone. “Have you already called ahead?”

Luka presses his lips together but his smile is obvious.

Sergio laughs. “What if I said no?”

“When have you ever said no to me?”

Sergio laughs harder. “When have I, indeed. Come here.”

“Sergio?”

Sergio is idly playing with the longer strands of Luka’s hair. “Hn?”

“I want to tell my mother. About us.”

Sergio goes still. “Yeah? That won’t be pretty. She’s still mad at you.” That’s a very mild term and they both know it.

“Yeah, I know,” Luka says, ducking his head out of Sergio’s reach and tucking his hair behind his ears so it doesn’t get in his face. Much to Sergio’s delight, the salty air has only made it curl up more. “But I still want to tell her. About why I got it removed in Zagreb. About the tattoo I have now. And about you.”

Sergio gives him a curious look. “You want me to come with you?”

Luka lets out a long exhale. “Yes. Please?”

“Of course,” Sergio says, reaching out and smoothing Luka’s hair down along his face. “You can count on me. You can always count on me.”

With a smile, Luka leans closer to erase the distance between them. The kiss starts soft and unhurried. They have time.

Then Sergio shifts against him, pulling Luka closer and winding his arms around Luka’s smaller frame. Luka makes a pleased noise at the back of his throat when Sergio deepens the kiss. They may have time, but not much self-restraint.

About a week later, it’s time to leave Korčula behind and sail up north if they want to pay Luka’s mother a visit.

Luka’s stomach churns with nerves; he doesn’t think he can do it just yet.

His hands lay motionless on the railing of the boat. The wind has picked up.

Sergio walks up to him from behind, snaking his arms around Luka’s form and bending down to nestle his chin on Luka’s shoulder.

Luka leans back, shifting his weight to Sergio, entwining their fingers together and resting their joined hands on his stomach.

Sergio’s thumb softly runs along the underside of Luka’s wrist and Luka shivers. He tilts his head up and back but Sergio isn’t looking at him, eyes cast on the horizon.

“You know, I’ve never been to Dubrovnik,” Sergio offers, voice low. “And you promised to take me there the last time we were here.”

Luka lets out a long exhale and squeezes his eyes closed. “I don’t deserve your patience.”

“You sure as hell don’t,” Sergio teases. “I waste it all on you and then everyone else says I’m short-tempered.”

Luka laughs and twists in Sergio’s arms, leaning up to place a quick peck to the corner of Sergio’s smirking mouth. “My poor thing!”

“Right?” Sergio chuckles and pushes his sunglasses from his hairline down over his eyes. “I can be so patient! Just look at me, I can lie down all day and patiently wait for the sun to work its magic on my tan.”

Sergio lets go of Luka and demonstrates his patience by flopping himself down onto the chair at the sun deck. He shows no intent of moving.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just called being lazy!” Luka snickers, moving to stand in the sun so he casts a long shadow over Sergio.

Sergio leans up on his elbows and peers up at Luka from behind his sunglasses. “Ah, you love me.”

“I said that, didn’t I?” Luka makes a thoughtful noise. “Must have been the sunstroke talking.”

“No take backs!” Sergio lobs the sunscreen at his head and Luka snatches it off the air, then uncaps the lid and deliberately slowly rubs some sunscreen to his nose and cheeks.

“No take backs,” Luka agrees.

Sergio settles back down with a huff, stretching in the sun like a cat. “Wake me when it’s my turn.”

Luka cuts the engine and lets the sails unravel with a noisy flutter, then he guides the boat to the south.

There is no need to rush anywhere. Luka has got his soulmate right here with him. Everything else can wait.