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Thomas feels like he’s been kicked and punched twelve times over.
He catches Mats’ eyes as he exits the room, managing the smallest of smiles, though, he wonders if it can barely count as one considering the news he’s just been dealt by his national team coach - or should he say, former coach?
Mats just nods in response, tipping his head and pulling out his phone - presumably to call Bene and tell him what has happened.
Oh god.
Thomas sees Manu before Manu sees him, he’s leaning up against the wall, staring down at his phone with a gentle expression on his face, so calm, unknowing to what has just gone down behind that closed door. His chest clenches as he slowly drags his feet across the floor, his sneakers squeak underneath the scuffing and the noise grabs Manu’s attention.
He smiles at Thomas, pocketing his phone before meeting his eyes completely. Manu’s brow furrows before his smile starts to diminish. Thomas tries, he really does, to put a smile on his face to relieve the nervous panic that is flashing quite obviously across Manu’s face.
“What happened?”
Thomas sucks it up for the moment. “We’ll talk about it at home.” Unfortunately for him, his tone doesn’t quite match the overly fake facial expression and Manu’s nerves don’t cease.
Brushing his hand across Manu’s bicep, Thomas sighs and they head out to the parking lot and he’s silently thanking his early morning self who suggested they just drive in together. Manu is watching him carefully and Thomas has to resist the urge to shrink under the unwavering gaze, it’s not too hard to figure out that Thomas is pushing down something so important and Manu wants, needs, to know what it is.
Thomas knows, hell, of course he fucking knows that he shouldn’t have expected to represent his country for the entirety of his career but he always thought that when it came down to it - he’d get to retire on his own terms, decide when he wanted to call it quits, he hadn’t expected to be twenty nine and told by his coach that he is no longer part of his plans.
Twenty nine, Jesus.
Out of the corner of his eye; Thomas can see the tight grip that Manu has on the steering wheel and his jaw clenched, train of sight set firmly on the road. Thomas sighs and tentatively reaches forward, wrapping his hand around Manu’s wrist when the latter slows for the traffic lights. Thomas can see Manu visibly relaxing as he slides his hand off the steering wheel and allows Thomas to interlock their fingers.
“Just, can you tell me if it’s bad?” Manu asks, voice small, sounding rather much like a small child and it tears at Thomas’ heart.
Still, the latter can do no more than scoff. Manu sighs and continues driving.
Once home, Thomas rubs his hands over his face and follows Manu into the kitchen - somehow the living room doesn’t feel like the right place to have this conversation.
“Are you? Can you?”
With Manu, Thomas has come to learn that sometimes the blunter the better, ripping off the bandaid and letting it all just sink in for a moment before they tackle how to respond to it. Though, Thomas does wonder if he should ease into this - after all, it’s probably going to be the last thing that Manu is expecting.
Manu is watching Thomas expectantly, watching the inner turmoil going on inside his boyfriend’s head. Thomas sighs and presses his hands into the coolness of the kitchen counter, pressing down so hard that it begins to hurt his palms.
“I’m guessing he didn’t speak to you about this - of course not - this wasn’t your decision, it was his -”
“Thomas!”
“What?” Thomas asks, glancing over at Manu. “Oh, right well, you won’t be seeing me at the next international break, or the next one, or probably the next twenty after that.” Thomas chuckles, though it falls flat and he sounds broken.
Manu looks befuddled. “Thommy?”
“Jogi told me I’m no longer in his plans for the national team.” Thomas tells him, for a second he doesn’t meet Manu’s eyes but when he does, he crumbles. “Hey-” Thomas murmurs softly as he reaches out for Manu’s hand.
Manu looks surprised yet completely emotionless, almost as though he’s having trouble believing Thomas and half-expecting Thomas to tell him it’s a joke. When Thomas’ expression doesn’t change though, fury flashes through Manu’s eyes - so clear that Thomas is momentarily taken aback.
“He wouldn’t.” Manu deadpans. “He - he wouldn’t.” Manu repeats, his voice wavering, panic beginning to flash once again through his eyes. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s not funny.”
“Manu, I’m not joking, it’s the same with Mats and Boa - he’s spoken to all of us and told us the same thing.” Thomas tries to explain, fighting back against the struggle in his chest at repeating the words, thinking about how his international career has been taken from him long before he wished it would have been.
“He can’t do that.” Manu tries once again.
Thomas bites back the scoff that’s rising in his throat, he’s partially inclined to agree with Manu but deep down, beyond the woundedness he’s feeling, he knows that the national team have every right to decide who to call up - at least he told them in person.
“Oh god, I should have known, I’m captain!” Manu suddenly exclaims, causing Thomas to flinch out of his thoughts. “If I would have known - I should have - I could have talked him out of it. He can’t just end your international career like this.”
Thomas furrows his eyebrows, clearly not following with Manu’s ramblings. “Schatz?”
Manu’s anger dissipates within seconds and he collapses. “I’m so sorry.”
Thomas sighs. “It’s not your fault.”
“- I’m captain. I love you, I should have done better. I can’t, they can’t, you need to retire on your own terms.” Manu chokes out, furiously scrubbing at his cheeks, reddening them more so than they had been.
Thomas carefully maneuvers around the counter and wraps Manu in a hug that should be too tight, that should have Manu clawing at Thomas’ arms to loosen his grip but he’s practically inconsolable at this point and Thomas despises how he’s blaming himself.
He half-expected this, once he told Manu, he should’ve expected a reaction similar to the one he’s currently receiving. It still surprises him when Manu chokes on a sob a few seconds later and Thomas can only squeeze him tighter, lifting his hand to comb through his boyfriend’s hair.
“It’s not your fault, sweetheart, come on, you can’t blame yourself for this.” Thomas whispers against Manu’s hairline. “He’s made his decision…” and what a fucking decision it is.
“He can’t do this to you, to them, Thommy - why aren’t you angry?” Manu mumbles out feebly, grabbing onto Thomas’ arm and holding it, needing to grip him.
“Oh, I’m furious, don’t get me wrong.” Thomas laughs, albeit tiredly, feeling his entire chest heave against Manu’s back.
Manu sniffles and twists so that he can wrap his arms fully around Thomas’ middle.
“We won the World Cup together… Oh, Bordeaux.” Manu mumbles, feeling the faintest of smiles twitch at the corners of his lips.
Even Thomas smiles at that reminder, how could he not? He still feels shivers down his spine when he wakes up with a heavy head resting against his chest and sometimes automatically, sometimes deliberately, he thinks of the reason for this happening is that dramatic penalty shootout win over Italy in Bordeaux.
“My favourite memory with the national team.” Thomas chuckles, leaning down to leave a featherweight kiss on Manu’s forehead.
“We lost, we didn’t even make the final?” Manu reminds him, lifting his head just in time to see Thomas tilt his own to the side and send him a pointed glance.
“Oh, Manu, I wasn’t referring to the actual tournament.” Thomas snickers.
It takes a second or two before the realisation dawns on the goalkeeper and his cheeks turn pink. “Oh, well.”
“Gosh, I love you.” Thomas sighs contentedly, leaning down to steal a kiss.
Manu frowns though. “We’ll never get another moment like that.”
Thomas cocks one eyebrow, “are you planning on finding a new boyfriend during the next Euros then?” He teases, watching Manu roll his eyes in response.
Manu resists the urge to swat at Thomas’ shoulder and instead grumbles something incoherently into his boyfriend’s chest. Thomas sighs, their momentary bout of lighthearted chatter gone and the situation returns to hanging above their heads.
“Are you okay?” Manu asks, lifting his head once more and noticing the more prominent frown beginning to twitch at the corners of Thomas’ lips.
Thomas breathes out a shuddery breath. “Not really.” He sighs, lifting his hand to brush through his dishevelled curls. “I just, I always thought I’d get to retire when I decided it was time but god, Manu, you have no idea what it feels like to be sat there and told as bluntly as possible that you’re not wanted for the national team anymore.”
Manu’s heart feels as though it’s breaking as he reaches blindly for Thomas’ hand, locking their fingers together and watching him carefully.
“I never want to feel that feeling again. It’s like crashing out of the World Cup, the Euros and reliving 2012 all over again.” Thomas’ voice wavers and cracks.
Manu shakes his head, he’s past caring, he’d happily have the captaincy taken off him because right now, all he wants is to hunt Jogi down and shake some goddamn sense into him. Thomas would never let him though.
“I’m sorry.” Manu states dumbly.
Thomas doesn’t respond this time, just leans against the counter exhaustedly, his eyes dropping and a scowl etched across his lips.
“Do you know what you’re going to do?” Manu asks, earning a small ‘hmm’ from Thomas in response. “Show him what they’re missing, you’re going to play so well for us that he’s going to regret it.”
Thomas laughs giddily, breathily, lifting his hand to caress Manu’s cheek. “Oh Manu, my sweet, Manu. You’re amazing, do you know that?”
Manu blushes and bashfully drops his head. “M’not.”
“You are.” Thomas tells him. “I’m lucky, huh? And nothing will change, I will just be in the stands watching you, supporting you, loving you - plotting Jogi’s demise.”
Manu snorts. “I guess so.”
Manu stands up and stands in front of Thomas. He’s not exactly clued up, he’s not the greatest at offering the comfort that he assumes Thomas needs now - unlike when it’s the other way around and Thomas seemingly knows how to help Manu feel better. Still, he wraps his arms around Thomas and that’s how they remain in the kitchen, Thomas holding him and mumbling out his fears, his anxieties and admitting the pain that he’s feeling from the day’s events. Manu listens, he’s always been good at that - he listens and offers whatever snippets of advice, reassurance and wisdom that he can to try and ease the pain.
It’s not completely effective. It might never be, but it’s enough.