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The thing about Matija is that he reminds Aleks of Nemanja - so much it hurts to even think about. It’s in the small smile, the quiet calm, and the steady movement of his chest. Many years may separate them, but there isn’t much else in between. The problem with this is that while Nemanja is forever unattainable, forever not his, it’s almost as though Matija wants Alex to have all of him at once. And Matija - young, beautiful Matija - is far too unbroken, too unscarred for Aleks take and to destroy.
He feels Matija watching him quietly - a little hurt, a little confused, but mostly as though he’s hungry for something Aleks desperately tries not to think about. Aleks shuts his eyes and thinks of other things; of football, of trophies, of food, of peace. He thinks about his daughter, about chances missed, about doing the right thing. When he opens his eyes, Matija is still watching, as though he would like to say something, say everything.
Aleks thinks about Nemanja and feels his heart tremble in his chest.
-
Edin doesn’t talk quite so much these days. He rests his head on Alek’s shoulder and they sit in silence, wondering how they can possibly feel discontent when they already have so much. Aleks wonders if they really must move on, wonders where he would go, and what that would make him. He watches Edin turn his eyes to the sky and thinks about goodbyes and lost love.
It would, Aleks decides, make him a fool.
-
It takes one little thing - just one second of weakness - for everything to go wrong. When Matija leans across over the PlayStation one afternoon and presses his lips boldly against Aleks', Aleks does not push him away. He lets himself look into Matija's eyes and fall too far into their depths. And then Aleks - who is too raw and too afraid - turns away and runs.
Behind him, Matija calls his name and it sounds almost exactly like how Nemanja says it. Aleks doesn't look back. He continues running, through training sessions, over lunch and nights out. He pretends that Matija’s voice doesn’t send sparks flying through his veins, that his quiet disappointment cuts right through Alek’s resolve.
'We should not,' he says when Stefan and Edin corner him, 'we cannot.'
'You cannot,' corrects Stefan who is bristling with protective anger, 'but you have to tell him why.'
'I don't want to hurt him,' is the only defence he can offer, but Aleks doesn't need them to tell him that he already has.
-
But then Matija - Matija is young, Nemanja tells Aleks, young and unselfish and shouldn’t have to bear the weight of someone else’s problems. ‘He reminds me of you,’ is what how he puts it, palm pressed against Alek’s neck. When Aleks presses back, Nemanja is almost unfamiliar - thinner, less solid. But then he hugs Aleks tight, and it feels completely right again.
'You had more weight to bear than you deserved,' is what Nemanja says when he leaves.
Aleks wants to remind Nemanja that he was never what Nemanja was - and never can be. He wants to shake him, until he remembers that Aleks has always been the selfish one. He wants Nemanja to stop looking at him as though Aleks is the one that needs to sort himself out.
Aleks could, he thinks, tell Nemanja that he already has it sorted out - he knows himself, knows which battles he cannot win and which are worth fighting for. It goes like this: Nemanja is Aleks’ past and Matija wants to be Aleks’ future. And Aleks, well, Aleks is lodged in the present, in the space where the edges of his life meet and he has to make a choice.
When Aleks dreams, he dreams of Nemanja and then Matija, until he can hardly tell them apart except for the light of life in Matija’s eyes. Nemanja is tired, as though life has worn him out and left him hanging - not too old, but old enough. Aleks wants – wants everything, and then nothing at all.
-
When Nemanja comes over to hug them after the derby, something in his eyes tells Aleks to go home with him - something desperate, something sad. Aleks has no answers, not for Nemanja who is supposed to know everything. He lets Nemanja sink into him, doesn’t think about how thin he looks, doesn’t want to think about how fast everything ends and fades away.
It’s time, Nemanja had said before. ‘Time will always be your greatest enemy and your only friend.'
Aleks had never quite understood what he'd meant before, but he thinks he does now. Soon, the football too will pass and where does that leave him?
It would, he realises, leave him exactly where Nemanja is now - an empty rock without a purpose, because even the strongest rock will collapse under the right pressure. It is all Aleks sees when he shuts his eyes, and it leaves him wide awake and shaking hard against his sheets. Next to him, his wife’s breathing is a soft, steady constant. He wonders if Matija snores.
-
'You are my rock,' Matija whispers with fierce determination, 'and I will not let you crumble.'
Aleks isn't sure when Matija grew strong enough to grip him in place or perceptive enough to see him waver, but he has. Matija's hands are firm but gentle, pressed against his shoulder. They stand, nose to nose as, in his mind’s eye, Aleks sees himself taking the easy way out, sees his retreating back framed by Matija’s doorway.
'I am not Nemanja,' Matija tells him, doesn't let him turn his eyes away, 'and neither are you.'
It's not enough, but it's a start. When Matija leans in, Aleks does not run again. He does not run when Matija’s lips trace the lines of ink across his arm, dipping with the grooves of his shoulder and dragging down across his chest. When Matija takes his face between his hands and presses their foreheads together, he reaches out and grips Matija’s waist hard enough to bruise.
‘Aleks,’ Matija gasps, ‘Aleks, kiss me.’ And so Aleks does. He pulls Matija into him, explores the hidden depths that no one else has seen. He runs his hands across the firm line of skin just above Matija’s shorts, pushes it all into his memory because if there is one thing that Aleks would not forget, it is this – Matija in his entirety, eyes alight with fire and heart left wide open.
Later, when they are both spent and exhausted, Matija slumps down next to Aleks (he does not bother with wiping them down the way Nemanja would), looks at him as though he thinks Aleks is going to leave. His eyes slide shut purposefully, his face stays neutral. His jaw clenches a little before he forces it to relax. This is, Aleks realizes, his last chance to run away. Do it now, Matija is saying, do it now or never again.
When Matija opens his eyes, Aleks is still next to him. Aleks reaches down, threads their fingers together. They don’t say anything yet. Later, tomorrow, another day, they shall have their doubts – about them, about responsibility, about love, about children and wives. They will be afraid, angry, discouraged. But now, they stay quiet because today is now and nothing else seems to matter more than that.
‘You are my rock,’ Matija repeats, so soft that Aleks can barely hear him. Aleks thinks of Nemanja, of young boys in a tired land and falling out of love. He knows that he’s holding Matija’s hand tight enough to bruise when he whispers back, ‘and you are mine.’
It is, he decides, more than enough.