Chapter Text
John hated being on the bench. One would think he would be somewhat used to it, considering the club he played for, where no one’s starting place was guaranteed. It wasn’t called Pep-Roulette for nothing.
He still hated it.
It felt horrible watching the team file out onto the pitch at a packed-out Wembley. He always wanted to start and play games – especially with England. It was one thing to be benched on performances but being injured and unable to even be subbed on was beyond frustrating.
John hated being injured.
He’d tweaked something in his left foot earlier, and it had been too close to kickoff for the physios to take a look at him properly – which prompted Gareth to bench him as to not risk anything. He knew it was for the best, to take precaution, what with City’s upcoming run-in and already being one center-back down, but it didn’t stop him from sulking on the bench with his hood up. Pouting.
John knew he probably looked a miserable git, watching as his replacement Ben – Benjamin – he liked to be called, walking onto the pitch with the national anthem blaring. He really tried to fix his face, but sometimes he really couldn’t help feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t even have Rúben nearby to remind him that not everything was the end of the world.
The team scraped a win via a penalty. Definitely not their best performance, and John took a bit of smug satisfaction in watching his replacement lose his man for the goal against them. No one had to know he sort of enjoyed that, though.
Gareth tells him they’d get a good look at his foot early the next morning, but since he wasn’t in pain and walking well, it was likely nothing major enough for him to be sent back home to Manchester for recuperation.
Home. It wasn’t weird for him to think of Manchester as home anymore – he had found his place at City in the last few seasons and he was so much happier with things, it was really his home. Thanking the manager, he filed out of the changerooms (having no use for a shower, unlike his teammates) and unlocked his phone.
Besides his mum asking after his injury, the standout notification was a text from his best friend.
Text from Rúbens:
> I heard you’re injured.
> Are you okay??
Rúben would normally have been off, preparing for his own upcoming international game – what with Portugal still needing to win their final to gain World Cup qualification. But he was injured too.
-
Being injured – while a great inconvenience for John – was something he was somewhat used to. Rúben was never injured. He was not used to being unable to play football, and it showed.
For the first week of his hamstring injury, he’d been put on crutches and told to limit movement, which made him absolutely miserable. John came by his apartment every day on his way home from the training center, to keep Rúben company, and he always looked all sulky and annoyed until he caught sight of John letting himself in.
When he was clear to walk and come back to the training ground to start his rehab, John had offered to drive him around, under the guise of helping out his injured teammate. Really, he just enjoyed the time they got to spend alone in the mornings – making jokes and talking quietly or just sitting in comfortable silence together was a wonderful way to start his day, before the bustle of a day at work burst his bubble.
Both of them seemed to savour that time. John had never regularly carpooled with a teammate before Rúben. He preferred to have his early mornings alone, to defrost before the day began, but his and Rúben’s mornings had just become an extension of his alone time.
Wake up. Shower. Get dressed. FaceTime his daughter. Drive to Rúben’s house.
It was just another part of his routine now.
Before he’d left with England, Rúben was back on the grass – even if it was just individual training. It had lifted both their moods a bit.
As John packed his suitcase, back in his apartment, Rúben laid on his back on John’s bed and mumbled about how he’d have to drive himself into the training center in the mornings, now that John would be away.
John placed a folded t-shirt into his suitcase and chuckled a little.
“You haven’t forgotten how to drive, now have you? You’ll be fine,” he’d smiled, poking the bit of exposed skin on Rúben’s tummy, where his hoodie had ridden up.
Rúben swatted his arm away and mumbled about how it wasn’t the same.
“Do you want me to call you an Über every morning then, Princess?” John had called from inside his closet, as he retrieved a pair of Jordans to place in the open suitcase on the bed. It was a ridiculous idea and an inconvenience; but if Rúben asked, John would do it. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for him, John thought.
“No,” Rúben sighed and sat up on the bed, he folded his arms as John continued to pack. Rúben didn’t fancy driving himself in, but the quiet interior of his Audi would be much preferred to having a stranger drive him to work.
John’s hands stilled.
“Just so you know, I’ll miss you too.”
Rúben didn’t have to explicitly say the words for him to understand why he was being so moody that morning. John placed a few more shirts into the suitcase and disappeared into his en-suite to grab his toiletries bag. Rúben recognized it from having seen it hundreds of times before games and in the changing room. John placed it in his case and zipped It up. He dropped his bags on the floor and climbed back onto the bed, lying down facing where Rúben was laying on his back and facing the ceiling again.
Rúben glanced over, his brown eyes soft and a bit sad. He reached out his hand and John took it, letting his fingers curl around Rúben’s. They laid there in silence for a moment. John was being serious when he said he was going to miss his best friend. He always did, during international breaks.
His best friend; who had broken up with his girlfriend months and months ago – and hadn’t so much as mentioned being interested in finding another one. John didn’t want to look into that fact very much; since he’d also gone extremely long stretches between girlfriends because of their job. Splitting up with a first serious girlfriend wasn’t easy. John recalled he hadn’t really been up to dating right after Millie had broken up with him.
Friends.
Him and Rúben could keep pretending friends looked at each other like this. Or cuddled in bed. Or shared the odd shower. They were just close.
Rúben’s eyes flickered closed slowly and he scooted closer to John. He mumbled, “When do you have to go?” in a low voice that betrayed he was close to sleep. Rúben looked sleepy and warm in John’s hoodie and he almost melted at the sight.
“Driver’s coming at 12,” he said softly, admiring how sweet Rúben looked. He never got enough of seeing him like this.
It was still mid-morning and Rúben had stayed the night – in John’s bed, as was his habit – and they’d had breakfast together before coming back into John’s bedroom so he could get ready to meet up with the England team.
Rúben was in some soft grey sweatpants and a hoodie he’d fished out of John’s closet the week before. He didn’t look like he was ever planning on giving it back – and John wouldn’t have dared to ask for it back. He liked it better on Rúben. It looked good on him, and he looked so adorable, curled in a ball on John’s bed, with his hair flopping over his forehead where he was letting it grow out on top.
Rúben opened his arms and John slid into them – fitting in the gap perfectly. Rúben’s chin rested easily on top of his curls, and they settled into a nap as they had done so many times before. They often did this: catching up on sleep together in busses and hotel rooms and planes was a regular part of the job. Rúben had become so accustomed to sleeping in John’s presence that he sought him out to nap with, whenever possible.
John pulled his phone out and set an alarm for an hours’ time, then he closed his eyes and buried his face in the front of Rúben’s hoodie.
-
Text to Rúbens:
> yeah. I just tweaked something
> didn’t wanna risk it
John smiled a little, when he saw the oscillating dots as Rúben messaged him back immediately.
Text from Rúbens:
> Okay, that’s a relief 😅
> Last thing we want is two grumpy, injured CBs 😉
John felt the first bit of genuine joy bloom in his chest for the first time in hours and he texted back some laughing emojis and wished Rúben a good night. He was an early sleeper and John knew he’d probably just been waiting up to hear back from him after the game.
He imagined Rúben shutting off his TV and trudging in his socks through the quiet of his apartment and slipping into his cold bed. He was comforted by the fact that he had his dog now, at least – unlike those first lonely months when he first moved to Manchester in the middle of a lockdown. He would be fine; but John felt an acute sense of not being where he was wanted most.
After a stretch back at the training base from the physio, John was sent to bed for some rest before being examined the next morning.
Jack was already shirtless and changing into his pajamas when John entered their shared room. He was on the phone with his girlfriend and John gave him a friendly slap on the back as he passed him on the way to his side of the room.
“Alright Stonesy? Walking alright aren’t ya?” he drawled, putting his phone against his shoulder to acknowledge him. John found an easy smile on his face as he sat down on his bed and pulled his shirt off to make small talk with Jack.
He went back to his phone call with his girlfriend as John finished changing. He threw his phone onto the bed – still no message from Rúben – and soon he was in comfy pants and the warmth of his bed. Jack put on an episode of Love Island softly on the TV and settled into his bed across the room.
Rúben didn’t watch anything at bedtime. They usually talked until they fell asleep. But this wasn’t Rúben he harshly reminded himself. Jack wasn’t as close a friend as Rúben was.
John closed his eyes. His phone lit up with a notification.
Text from Rúbens:
> Goodnight John
He was about to lock it when a second message came in, just a second later.
> I miss you. So much.