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Mario missed him. He missed him every single day. He had missed him in Munich, had missed him everywhere from the last game they played together in Dortmund, to the first Mario played without him in Brazil. Had missed him during cold winter nights, when all he needed were two certain arms wrapped around his body to envelop him in his warmth. During hot summer nights, when the temperature was driving him crazy, but he wanted to be touched all over despite the heat. He had missed him through ups and downs, but today was the worst.
Maybe it had something to do with the expectations. After all, they had both been looking forward to their reunion in Brazil ever since their initial ‘break-up’. They had texted about it for months and Mario still had all the little messages that read “32 days left :D X”, or something similar. That was how things had been. They had spent months in anticipation of those thirty-one days during which both red and yellow were part of the same flag. But when Mario had seen the look on Marco’s face after he got hit, he didn’t need a doctor to conform that their wish had been washed down the sink.
Or maybe it had been the training today. Everyone had been in a quite celebratory mood yesterday and Mario had seen a couple of teammates being showered with kisses by their partners. They got their prizes early, after coming out of the group phase as winners. And what was he supposed to do? At the training he felt like he was the only one who didn’t get laid last night, but maybe that was another side-effect of expectation. Without Marco, his Brazil nights were surprisingly cold and lonely.
Mario was preparing for another one, reading some Instagram messages with his headphones on, when André entered the room. He was wearing green shorts and a pastel top and looked great doing so. He stood in the door as if he wasn’t going to stay for a long time.
“Hey, there’s a little party going on for the people who aren’t having romantic dinners right now.”
Romantic dinners, my ass. Mario had heard the sound of romantic dinners very clearly from across the hallway as he had made his way over to his suite.
“Is Mats there?”
“Of course not,” André answered, finally closing the door and walking toward the mini-fridge.
“So it’s you and Erik?” Mario had taken off his headphones, but didn’t make the effort to actually turn off the music.
“And you.” André winked. He ate some grapes and walked back past the back, then halted a few meters away from Mario. “Listen. I’m sorry about your shit, but you have to stop doing this.”
“Doing what?” Mario asked defensively.
André hesitated, sighed and then sat down on the end of the bed. “We’re all missing someone. We’re all missing different people for different reasons. You miss him out of disappointment. But this isn’t his world cup; it’s yours. Don’t let craving the impossible keep you from having a good time here.”
He sat there being a wise old man, be it a wise old man with a terrible fashion sense and two silver earrings.
“You miss him,” Mario said, hoping to turn the roles, but André was having none of it.
“Like I said, we’re all missing someone. Are you coming or not?” He quickly stood up and made his way to the door while he talked. As Andre’s hand lay on the door knob as he was waiting for Mario to decide, the latter felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. “Yeah sure. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Andre’s grin said ‘mission accomplished’ as he said goodbye and left the room.
Mario needed to know if it was Marco. His heart beat a little faster and he swallowed hard as the letters flashed too bright on his screen.
-16 days :C X
The missing became an aching pain in his chest when he realised that the looking forward had become the looking back to something that never happened. Sixteen days into the world cup and he still couldn’t relax and enjoy himself. And then it hit him that maybe he wouldn’t either in the upcoming fourteen days. He would only be okay again if he had won the cup for Marco or was crying over defeat in his arms.
I miss you, was Mario’s reply, simple but to-the-point. The long minute between his and Marco’s next message was nerve-wreckingly endless.
Miss u 2. Boring here. Whats up in Brazil?
Mario hesitated for a second, because he didn’t want to seem desperate, but the next text was already echoing through his head.
Not much. Bit of missing. Erik’s throwing a party I hear
Nice! (Marco was rarely sarcastic on WhatsApp.) Has he kissed Mats yet?
Marco’s question was so random it took Mario by surprise, but he found it strangely arousing. Marco was thinking about kissing right now, even though it wasn’t kissing Mario. That was pretty hot.
Not sure, but I think not. Erik’s being a shy, lame-ass teenager and Mats is too courteous to just smack him on the lips.
He read back his text before he sent it. It seemed cool and unaffected, yet sassy. It didn’t sound at all like he was missing Marco too much to even breathe.
STILL?! God those guys have been drooling over each other all season, you should have seen them! (Which was a subtle, possible even unconscious reference to the fact Mario shouldn’t have been in Munich.) Pls Mario make them kiss. I don’t even care how you do it – win the world cup for all I care. (Which Mario was already planning to do, but not to see Mats and Erik kiss.) I’m glad you and I didn’t take this long ;)
Mario smiled because it had a wink at the end, and he could almost see Marco’s eyes and the way they wrinkled around the corners when he smiled. He felt in love, but he felt distant as well. Distant from Marco and from the world and from all that mattered.
Well, it took years for you to come back to Dortmund, he pointed out, playfully, like they used to eighteen months ago, but when he hit send, he realised his mistake.
And when I was finally there, you left, came Marco’s quick reply. His spelling and grammar and punctuation was all too correct and Mario could feel the pain he must have been feeling. They were sharing it right then.
Sorry too far, Marco sent quickly after his first message and it was enough of an apology to make Mario feel only love for Marco rather than the anger he had been feeling seconds ago. But the truth was he was right. Mario had been one of the reasons for Marco to come to Dortmund and, ungrateful as he was, he had left. And there wasn’t a single romantic thing he could say that would make his actions seem legit. He hadn’t made a decision out of love, because this was his career and not his love life. But it started to dawn on him that, despite what they always tell you, ‘career’ might not necessarily be more important than everything else in life.
Okay. I miss you, Mario typed, because he was the closest to okay he could be while he was in Brazil and Marco was still not. He could see that Marco was online, but it took painfully long for him to reply.
Don’t. I love you. So if you really want to make me happy, have a good time. Go to Erik’s party. Forget about the cup. Hell, you may even forget about me. You should breathe Brazil instead of drowning yourself trying to save me. I’m okay, I promise.
Mario was almost crying because Marco was the best thing in the world and he needed him here to whisper thank yous in his ear and kiss him until his lips went numb. But he wasn’t, and it wasn’t fair.
Okay? Marco asked for verification.
After Mario had read the message through a couple of times, he realised Marco was giving him explicit consent to forget him and not win the world cup. He was saying that he should be having a good time. Oh hell, was he going to have a good time. But Erik could wait.
Mario stood up and locked the door, dimmed the lights a bit and set back down on the bed. He opened Skype and called the only person he could be having a good time with at that moment. When Marco picked up he was surprised, but smiling, wrinkles around his eyes and crooked mouth and all.
“What are you doing?” he laughed.
Mario could feel something tickling his insides. “Having a good time. I hope you’re alone and free.”
Marco’s smile turned into a wicked grin and we wiggled his eyebrows. The night wasn’t season 12/13 perfect, but it made the missing a little bit less achingly pain, and a little bit looking forward to the next reunion.