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Cristiano was scared to meet his soulmate. Well not exactly scared but definitely apprehensive. What was written on his left forearm wasn’t some horror movie plot but sometimes it did keep him up at night. What it said was a simple “hey what happened to you”.
That’s all. Written in sweet short strokes. Terrifying. When Cristiano was old enough to understand how fucked he was he would wonder at night at the tone of his “hey what happened to you”. When he was suffering miserably at school and missing his mother, he would imagine a shocked face and a disgusted tone, one that sounded as if his own soulmate couldn’t stomach the sight of his face. When he felt better about himself with praise about his football skills, with a soft coo from his mother's voice over the phone he would imagine a soft and breathless “hey what happened to you”, one paired with shining eyes filled with disbelief as if his soulmate couldn’t believe that it was him, a changed him, a better him.
When Cristiano joined Manchester United he didn’t know what to think. There was a part of him that didn’t want to find his soulmate. He was having fun in England. A lot of fun. Fun with a lot of different people. Fun that he didn’t want to end. Who needed a soulmate anyway? Any warm body would do for him. So he played. He played. And played his hardest. He played to be the best. The best anyone ever saw or would ever see. And as he played and won and won again his body changed. He was so small in Porto but now he was on the edge of Adonis. (sometimes, in his dreams, through the misty white fog he heard a soft breathless voice say in his ear “hey what happened to you”. an old lover? his junior high crush?).
But then, cutting through the euphoria of his budding glory, he began to hear a name. Lionel Messi. Messi. Messi.
Who the fuck was that?
A shrimp that’s who. A tiny Argentinian who was taking everything from him. This was all he had. Go away you bug.
But he wouldn’t. His name just kept getting bigger. Haunting him. When Cristiano wanted to hear about his own spectacular game all he heard about was the magical talents of Messi. Well.
Cristiano was no quitter. No pushover either. He would win this game little Lionel didn’t know they were playing. Until he didn’t.
In 2009 Barcelona beat ManU. Cristiano wondered if others could see his impending explosion. But everything was just fine. Absolutely peachy because Cristiano had won the Ballon d’Or in 2008. And he was going to win again this year as well. He was. Totally. No doubt. None at all.
In the summer of 2009 Cristiano moved to Madrid and had a baby in June as well. Everything actually was going really well. He was making friends, he was bettering himself, he was on his way to dominating Spanish football. And the Ballon d’Or ceremony was coming up in December. So to celebrate, the day before the ceremony Cristiano took his mother to sightsee in Paris.
It was a cold day but it was still beautiful. They had decided to have a picnic near the Eiffel tower. French bread, French cheese, and a bit of French wine. They decided to eat on the grass. The seagulls called from above. “Mãe, should we move to a shadier spot? I’m a little worried about the birds.” Cristiano looked to his mother with concern. Maria looked a little skeptical. “I’m sure it’ll be fine Cris. Look, others are eating out too. Don’t worry.” She patted Cristiano’s hand lovingly. But Cris was still worried. He looked up. “Yeah but I’m still ner-“ A seagull shat right into his eye. Maria gave a sharp gasp. “Cris! Oh Lord are you okay dear?!” She took some napkins to wipe it where it splattered onto half of his face. Cristiano’s mind was blank. He thought of nothing. Actually, he did. He wondered Are those seagulls….. laughing? He would’ve looked up again to see but he had learned from his mistake the first time.
Silently, they packed up the ruined food, threw it away, and headed to the doctors office.
“Here’s your medication Cris. Make sure you follow the directions.” Back at the hotel Maria handed Cristiano his medicine. “I know mãe.” He replied tiredly. He was drained from the turn the day had taken. He felt even more drained when he thought about going to the ceremony and getting on stage to collect his trophy with a big white fucking eyepatch on. He took his pills and hoped he wouldn’t die from embarrassment tomorrow.
He didn’t die but he wished he had. Walking on the red carpet with a gauze eye patch on his left eye was single handedly the most embarrassing thing to happen to him. From the neck down he was impeccable. From the neck up he looked like a moron.
He made sure to avoid eye contact with anyone he didn’t need to and thankfully everyone was nice enough to not say anything about it.
Everyone except Lionel Messi. They had never spoken before. Only handshakes and curt nods. But tonight Lionel looked up and did a double take when Cristiano was seated next to him. His small lips opened in shock. His eyes were blown wide and if it weren’t at Cris’ expense he would’ve laughed. However it was at his expense so Cristiano’s jaw tightened.
Then, before he could say anything, Lionel said “Hey, what happened to you?” Mouth still opened in shock. And before Cristiano’s brain could catch up (wait- what’d you just say!?!!?) Cristiano replied “Well, I was eating with my mom and I looked up on accident and a seagull shitted in my eye.” If it was possible Lionel’s eyes grew larger then, strangely, he grew pale then red hot. He started to tremble and before Cris could ask him if he was going to pass out, Lionel lifted his shaking arm and yanked back his sleeve. There, written in his scrawls were his exact words “Well I was eating with my mom and I looked up on accident and a seagull shitted in my eye”. Holy shitwtfwtfwtf wtfffffff is going onwtffff. Lionel. Messi. Barcelona. Ballon d’Or. Ohnononononoooo. Someone say this is a joke. Please.
But he knew no one would say “Gotcha!” Because this whole situation was too fucked up for that to be the case. No one could predict or cause a bird to shit in his eye. So he pulled back his own sleeve and showed Lionel his own mark “hey what happened to you”. Lionel’s lips formed into an o and then he said “oh.” A pause “Oh, wow.” Another pause. They looked at each other and Cristiano realized what must his life been like with those words on his arm. Wow, I’m luckier than I thought. He smiled and gave a little huff. This really was ridiculous. Lionel smiled back. They said nothing, just stared into each other’s eyes and eventually Lionel’s name was called as the winner of the 2009 Ballon d’Or. Cristiano clapped and as Lionel went to collect his award Cris caught sight of himself on the screen. He was smiling like an idiot. And he didn’t care. That was his soulmate. And all it cost him was the rest of his life in memes.
Worth it.