Chapter Text
He stirred his coffee more than necessary, the spoon swirling a monotonous pattern through black liquid, with dark eyes gazing intensively. The chip of metal upon china, the spoon hitting edges of the mug, never graced his ears having been drowned out by the clouds of contemplation and reminiscence that rested heavily in his mind.
“Why the long face?” Jordan suddenly asked, sliding into the seat opposite him. His voice held a softness, his typical captaincy and fondness which he wore with pride. “You’re not missing Lovern already are you?”
Mo finally looked up.
“You are missing Lovern,” Jordan realised with a sigh.
The dismal thoughts leaked through into the features of his face and Mo couldn’t hide them. As much as he wanted to. As much as he wanted to move on and suppress any image of the Croatian man. He just couldn’t.
He just hated that when he now looked up in the cafeteria the seat opposite was filled with a different body. A different face. And the jokes would be different, the accents, the stories and affection and understanding between himself and the other. It was never the same.
It used to be just himself and Dejan. Plus two cups of coffee. That’s all he needed really. But now there’s just one.
He tried to force a smile. Happiness didn’t feel right on his features anymore.
“Maybe just a little.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Jordan hummed. His voice held a slight hollowness. Mo could hear it. It’s funny how much you try to forget, and try to disguise the things that haunt you, but in the end they always linger. It’s all a facade, a veil even, and the face underneath was hiding the hurt.
“Lallana?”
A nod. Well, more of a shrug. Jordan seemed to have found himself in a moment of weakness, as if he didn’t want to admit this to Mo. To himself, even. Mo new that feeling quite well.
Jordan had bought over a tray of food, a plate of sausages and potatoes, and started to squash his fork into potatoes despite their already mashed complexion, his eyes glued in concentration.
“I’m trying to arrange to see him. I don’t know when or where. I don’t know if I’ll even be able to, I’m not sure if I’ll have the time, having a full schedule.”
Mo’s heart ached with a tinge of jealously. He couldn’t help it, but he knew it’s always easier to see someone when they are at least in the same country.
“November?” Mo suggested.
Jordan managed to huff a laugh. “I guess. There’s always the matches at least.”
It seemed so far away. The sad smile on Jordan’s face meant he knew that too. Most likely counting down the seconds until he saw the brunet again. Until he could take the brunet into his arms, breathe in that familiar scent, and be completely lost in that moment. Mo knew that feeling too. He missed that feeling like hell.
When was he ever going to see Dejan again though? When was he to see him in the flesh and blood, with skin to be felt, and not just pictured through the barrier of a screen.
“You’ll make it. Adam would do anything to see you.”
“I’m sure Dejan would too!”
Before Mo could say anything, two more people hastily sat at the table. Andy with a tray of sausage of mash, a can of Irn Bru, followed by Trent with some kind of red soup and bread. They were bickering loudly between themselves, it was a mystery how Mo didn’t hear them before they had arrived, about some trivial subject.
“So,” Andy started, sitting down. He turned to Mo and Jordan, “settle this argument, once and for all. Tomato is a vegetable, right? So tomato soup is technically a vegetable soup!”
“So?” Jordan raised an eyebrow, bearing a mixed expression of amusement and boredom. “Care to elaborate?”
“So tomato can’t be a fruit then.”
Trent let out an exasperated moan, “Tomato is a fruit. Only because you can make a soup of it doesn’t automatically make it a vegetable!”
“It has to be a veg. No one, when asked to describe a soup, has ever said it’s a fruity soup. People don’t make soups out of fruit otherwise it’s just a fruit salad.”
“Hendo,” Trent whined. “Help me out with this idiot please!”
“I can’t. Robbo’s mind works in mysterious ways that no other person could possibly understand.”
Mo looked between the three men as they argued and then continued to stir his coffee. He felt satisfied with the distraction, despite however bizarre or random the conversation turned out to be, it was the small things like this that made everything feel normal. Made him feel like a part of his life hasn’t fallen away.
He tried not to get too lost in his thoughts again, otherwise the pang of absence will flood his chest and a pit his heart would deepen.
“I will stand on this table and ask this whole cafeteria in a minute,” Andy threatened. “You’ve been warned, wee man!”
“You wouldn’t! We all know you wouldn’t!”
“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t”
Andy moved. He was stopped just as quickly as the hairs of his arm left the surface of the table, with Jordan grabbing his shoulder and pushing him back down into his seat.
“Climb on this table and I’m confiscating the Irn Bru!”
He pouted, “fine!”
Simultaneously, Trent wore a smile alike to one of a favourite child who had gotten their own way, while the other child had been grounded for eternity.
“Or you could get Milner over here?” Trent suggested, waggling his eyebrows at Andy with the threat. “He know’s his fruit from his veg.”
“This isn’t over!” Andy sulked, stabbing at the sausages on his plate. “Speaking of which where is Milly?”
Trent looked around.
“No idea!” He replied. Picking up his spoon, Trent gestured across the room at someone else who had caught his eye. “Your new left back buddy looks a little lost though.”
They all followed the line of direction from the silver cutlery, even Mo who wasn’t paying too much attention before, to look at Kostas Tsimikas, carrying a plate of food uncertainty. He was looking for a familiar face in a crowd of unfamiliarity, his eyes flicking around. Almost like an image of Bambi on ice.
Jordan tried, captain’s instincts taking over, and called, “Kostas!”
He beckoned the nervous Greek man over before he could embarrass himself. Kostas walked quickly, without a second thought, and Andy and Trent shuffled over to allow the new comer to sit at the table.
“How you liking the soup?” Andy asked, swiftly, as he noticed the bowl Kostas was carrying.
“Um…I haven’t tried it yet.”
The Scotsman rested his chin upon his hands, a Cheshire Cat smile plucking at his mouth.
“Well, I haven’t either, but I’m sure it will taste like vegetable. Now, what’s your opinion of tomatoes, Kostas? Would you say they are a fruit?”
Confusion soaked into the features of Kostas’ face who only blinked in response. Mo smiled into his coffee at the look of bewilderment. Trent sighed with an exaggerated eye roll and Hendo looked as if he was contemplating making a phone call to Milner.
“Your lack of subtlety perplexes me,” Trent commented.
“Well, I’m not going to beat around the bush with this one. People deserve the truth about this imposter trying to pass itself as fruit when it’s clearly a piece of veg.”
Kostas wore an expression of regret. Not that anyone could blame him with Andy’s unrestrained, chaotic antics.
“What’s happening?”
Mo shook his head, “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Andy’s being an idiot is what’s happening,” Trent clarified.
“You’ll get use to this,” Jordan explained.
“Or not,” Trent added. “You’ll never know. This football team can be unpredictable at the best of times.”
“Or a plane of shambles at other times,” Andy finished.
Kostas smiled weakly, he softly joked, “this fills me with confidence.”
Mo chucked, looking to Kostas, his stirring slowing, gazing at the features of his face. The edges and dimples of his visage, the tired bags under his chocolate eyes, the messy mop of dark hair, the lopsided smile that pulled shyly at his lips. He looked at all the small blemishes and details, becoming entranced by his physical form and timid demeanour.
It’s not like he hasn’t looked at Kostas before, during their joinery over when they first met, making their way to Austria, was when they first crossed paths. When Mo first laid eyes on him. But now it seemed different. The rhythm of his hand against the coffee, spoon stroking absentmindedly, as his eyes lingered.
“Earth to Mo Salah… Mo Salah running down the wing!”
Kostas caught his eye. Mo snapped out of his daydream suddenly realising that all eyes are on him.
“Huh? Yeah… sorry?” He looked to Andy who had spoke, trying to ignore the embarrassment seeping into his cheeks.
“You going to drink that coffee, mate? You’ve been stirring it for at least ten minutes!”
“Oh yeah.”
He dropped the spoon on the table and took a gulp to confirm his answer. The bitterness reached his tongue. The lingerings of past memories reached his mind. Coffee dates with Dejan, happy smiles, laughter, and that unique, warm feeling that pooled within his stomach.
It was a shame his coffee was cold now.
—
Night came quickly. Inky black rolled over the picturesque mountains of Austria, darkening the skies above until the light diminished. Mo threw himself back onto the bed of his hotel room, bathing in the artificial, yellow tinge of the lighting. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and flicked through his messages.
Dejan [14:55]: SENT A PHOTO
Mo clicked on the notification.
A picture of Dejan appeared, bare chested, flexing and exaggerating the appearance of his abs, underlined with the caption; “Working out. Are mine as good as yours yet?”
Mo laughed, the sound radiating throughout his body.
Mo [18:38]: No ❤️
Dejan [18:39]: 😑
Mo [18:39]: Nowhere near as good
Dejan [18:40]: Now you’re just being mean bro …
Dejan [18:40]: How’s Austria??
Mo [18:40]: Fine. Very sunny, good food, good vibes
Mo [18:41]: I guess it would be better if you were here ;)
Dejan [18:41]: of course
Dejan {18:41]: as the love of your life it’s my responsibility to make you feel better
Mo [18:42]: how kind
Mo [18:42]: What would I ever do without u ?? :(
He closed his eyes, thinking of Dejan’s face. The feeling of absence flooding him again, drowning his heart, making him ache inside all over again.
Mo [18:43]: I miss you
Dejan [18:43]: i know
Dejan [18:43]: i miss you too
Dejan {18:43}: i guess ;)
Mo smiled softly, holding his phone to his chest, as he looked at the ceiling. At this moment the door closed and he realised someone else had entered the room. He closed his phone and sat up slightly from the bed.
“How was the table tennis competition?”
Kostas was now his new roommate. This wasn’t a surprise. Mo knew he was going to have to share with whoever was going to fill the void left by Dejan. Although, Mo left like it was putting a plaster over a wound. It would do, but he knew when he woke up the room would still feel slightly empty again.
“It was okay,” Kostas shrugged, collapsing onto his own bed. “I lost. I was told you played table tennis though?”
“Not anymore,” Mo mumbled.
How could he when Dejan didn’t jokingly ridicule his playing, pushing his buttons, and exposing his competitive side.
“How come?” Kostas asked, frowning slightly.
Mo didn’t think he would reply. He didn’t think that Kostas heard him, but maybe his own thoughts were just a little too loud.
He conjured an excuse, “I meant, not tonight, maybe not this trip. I’m just a bit tired.”
“Makes sense,” Kostas turned to look up at the ceiling. “I’ll try not to disturb you if you need more sleep.”
“No. It’s okay,” Mo reassured. “Make as much noise as you want.”
Dejan probably would. He would wake Mo up in the mornings, stroking his hair, before leaving to make coffee and bring it to Mo.
It was nice of Kostas to think of him. Kostas thought of everyone, Mo considered, putting them before himself. But he didn’t want Kostas walking on eggshells just for his sake.
Kostas smiled, trying to stifle a yawn. “I think I’m going to get some sleep now myself.”
Mo nodded, “yeah me too.”
He looked over at Kostas as he was beginning the pull duvets around himself.
“Aren’t you going to get changed?”
He mumbled, “I’ll do it in the morning.”
Mo laughed, taking in the sight of Kostas lazily cocooning himself within the bedding, clearly exhausted and couldn’t spare the energy to get dressed out of his tracksuit.
“Good night.”
Kostas slurred, “g’night.”
Mo sat for a while, completely still and entranced, thoughts whipping over in wave after wave in his mind. However, the sight of Kostas, in a slumber of serenity, calmed that internal sea, the waves taming. Mo smiled, softly, feeling just as relaxed himself.
Before going to bed, he picked up his phone and took a picture.
Mo [18:58]: SENT A PHOTO
A photo of Kostas sleeping and the underlying caption; “never mind. You’ve been replaced ;)”
Dejan [19:00]: How do you block a phone number? Asking for a friend
He stayed awake for awhile afterwards. Eyes on the ceiling. Even with the lights turned off, his vision adapted to the darkness, the inky black night spilling in and painting the room, and he kept staring upwards as if the stars would be above him.
Yet there was nothing and he drifted off to sleep with that final thought.