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It's January, and he's won everything there is to win. Well, almost. Still no senior title with the national team, but there are only six more months until the World Cup and all bets are on them. It used to scare him, but then again all bets were on Bayern and they won the Bundesliga and the cup and the Champions League; they won them all. Now they are the best team in the world. So he doesn't think it will be like last time, because it won't and he's also the best goalkeeper in the world.
Mario says he always has been, that Bayern simply allowed the world to see it. But they are in bed and Mario's voice is even deeper than usual at this time of the morning. Manuel is only a little bit sure it is a compliment to him rather than a dig at Schalke. His first instinct is still to find something to argue back, to dig up some old unimportant data, like how Schalke are still leading the derby scores. But then Mario kisses him and gets up to quickly dress in their training gear. Manuel can't stop staring at the crest, now bare of those 4 gold stars. It feels much more familiar to him these days, not to have them presented across his chest, even now. Today's the last day of training and he still hasn't mustered up the courage to visit his old teammates, his old home. He did it last year, he had tried to tell himself, there is no reason why he shouldn't this time.
You can blame me, Mario says. He had offered him a place in his bed, between his thighs, in his heart, so that Manuel will have a reason not to ease himself alongside his old teammates. Manuel simply nods and murmurs quiet thanks. It's easier than admitting he won't be going because the thought of wearing blue and white again was slowly becoming easier.
XXX
It's March, and it's his birthday. Mario shows up at his door a few days early with beers and a Dortmund scarf. If they make it look like they are just going to watch the derby, no one will wonder why it's only the two of them.
Manuel uses the scarf to drag Mario in, pressing their lips together. He doesn't let go of the fabric until it lays on the floor. He kicks it aside, nearly getting it under the couch. "We'll still win," Mario says, unsmiling, as he walks towards the couch. Manuel spanks his ass in reply. Mario doesn't pick up the scarf.
They are both into the game, shouting and hissing and barking out orders. They are eating snacks and drinking beers. They are not touching, not any more than would be expected, any more than if they were other people. It changes when Lewandowski scores. Mario reaches for his phone immediately; Manuel follows him with his gaze, if only so he doesn't have to see the sadness and disappointment of the people to whom he once belonged.
It used to be endearing, how Mario is unable to type on a smartphone without mouthing the words. It might still be, but Manuel is much more interested in the words themselves. 'what a great one' Mario hit sends and looks at the TV, from the commentators' words and Mario's smile Manuel can make up the pictures in his mind: a slow-motion reply, a celebration, maybe a team hug. "Can't wait to have you doing this for…" Mario waits and then delete. "with us" he adds, and then delete again. He thinks, then presses two keys before finally sending it again.
Manuel is moving before he has time to think. He stands in front of Mario, looking down, completely blocking the TV. Mario looks up, eyes wide with confusion. Manuel only gives him a second to wonder before dropping to his knees to mouth his partner's dick through his training pants. Mario's head drops back in surprise, his eyes shut, and Manuel's hands are quick to release him.
Mario falls asleep next to him on the couch,; the scarf is now covered with a mixture of their clothes. Manuel tries to fish out his jeans without waking him up. He fails and end up reaching for Mario's smartphone on the endtable next to him. He means to check the final score and sees that Robert has replied. Manual has an instinctive urge to delete it. But then Mario turns in his sleep and his hand ends up just a bit below Manuel's left nipple. It's a soft touch, which suddenly makes Manuel aware of where he is. His heart starts beating fast but Manuel is not sure if it's because of the touch itself or what it made him feel.
XXX
It's July, and they are champions, champions of everything. Manuel and Mario and Phillip and Bastian and Jerome and Thomas and Toni. It's July, and they can't seem to be able to keep their hands off each other. Him and Mario. Everything is a celebration, beer is poured all over. Manuel wakes up alone in a hotel bed with a stiff neck, the empty space alongside him only a bit warm. During breakfast, Bastian shouts at him, "Neck getting too heavy with all those medals?"
Mario hides a secret smile from the kids table, as they call it, but Manuel laughs, maybe too much. Mario can't stop watching Manuel, he sees the realization hitting him. Mario's smile fades away and he swallows hard.
XXX
It's August, and Kathrin moves out. Manuel thanks her for sticking around until after the World Cup, and they both know he means thanks for sticking around at all. This is not how it was supposed to be. There were rumors, so Manual had asked her to stay a little longer, through the summer, until they could say the distance was too much for them. He ruined that excuse when he decided to move to Bavaria. If anything, she just became a new excuse.
He goes back home cause it's what you do during break. Mario is going on holiday with Marco and Andre. They spend the last night together; they've been spending more nights together since she's been gone and Mario says it's the perfect excuse, everyone would understand why Manuel doesn't wanna be on his own.
He does, though. He needs time to think. He's got a full train ride for that. Just before Mario had been about to get into the cab, Manuel told him that he was going to tell his extended family, the ones he's related to by not red bit royal blue blood, finally. Mario didn't answer, just nodded, and suddenly the ground underneath him shook. He needed Mario to say no, that he's not ready, that once you start with one person, even one you trust, it all changes and then… He needed him to say everything they had been saying to each other for the last 2 years. Even more.
So he has a full train ride to think. While the scenery changes from one shade of green to another, those people he trusts just as much as they used to trust him, they are are fighting in his head. Sometimes they are understanding, sometimes they are surprised and shocked, sometimes they are worried or they are angry.
But at the end of each scenario there's always an 'I love him, yes,' or 'But, I love him' or even, 'I can't, cause I love him.'
He's never told Mario that, he realizes. This thing between them was always love, maybe, but it was never about it.
It's seem like months have passed, but it's still August and he's coming home alone. It feels too much like a train ride from Berlin to Gelesenkirchen all those many years ago. He wonders why it seems he always has to travel, he wonders if he could have ever stayed put and still felt the same. He wonders so much that he keeps his mouth shut and doesn't give anyone answers. Not what he's really doing in Munich, nor what his plan for the future are.
XXX
It's September, and he's back at Veltins Arena. It doesn't feel strange anymore. He tries to tell himself it's not because he's used to being a guest here, just that he's gotten used to how weird it is.
He doesn't even recognize some of the employees, but he knows if he asks they would let him visit the home dressing room as long as it's far enough from the whistles. He goes first into the guest dressing room and there he see it, waiting on top of the pile.
He knew it would be there, but it's a strange kind of knowing. Like 5 years ago when he knew what his decision was but only realized it while tearing up in front of the cameras. But Bastian is injured and Lahm is on the bench and he's third in line.
He pushes the armband aside and starts changing as the others walk in. He keeps his head buried in his locker, well aware of Mario's attempts to catch his glance. He goes to the bathroom in search of a silent moment, and Mario finds him there with a knock on the door. He opens it to find the armband presented to him, Mario's eyes are soft and understanding. Manuel grabs the white and red fabric with a weak hold and, somehow, despite their height difference, Mario manages to kiss him on the forehead before going back to the dressing room.
The armband is still in his hand as he waits at the verge of the tunnel. Once again first before anyone else, his eyes can't stop staring at the dressing room exit he did not take. Max walks out first, and Manuel is met with a surprised gaze. He's suddenly aware of something he knew all along. With last season's injury, it's the first time they'll be playing against each other. Manuel's breath is caught in his chest with jealousy when he realizes that they never played alongside each other at all. Max turns back as if realizing he's forgotten something important. Manuel looks to the ground with an ironic smile, shaking his head at himself. When he looks up, Benni is there smiling at him.
The hug is as natural as it used be just after Manuel left. A month spent fighting under the same colors has brought them closer again, and Manuel cannot be grateful enough to have an old friend there with him. The fans' chants are getting louder and louder, old songs Manuel almost can't resist joining under his breath. Benni's smile stays wide all the way to his eyes as he effortlessly takes the armband out of Manuel's grasp and wordlessly places it on his arm. He fixes his own slightly, before moving to stand at his spot. Manuel's gaze follows him, the fans echoing in his ear, louder and louder. His body still remembers how to exit this tunnel, and he can't stop his lips from praising thousand friends, all standing together.
It's only later as he removes the armband, his head buried away from all his celebrating teammate just as before the match, only then that he realizes when the fans cursed, they didn't curse him. They didn't address him especially, specifically, not even once.
XXX
It's December, and he's called into the manager's office. There is an offer on the table, literally. Schalke and Gelsenkirchen are only words in the air and on smartphones' screens. It's more or less the same as his last contract, it also says 5 years. He gets more money, Schalke doesn't get anything. Absentmindedly, Manuel pushes the papers away once he's finished reading it the second time. You know we don't sell, Uli says in a calm voice with a half smile. He's given time. They don't push him for a decision, they don't say they need to be prepared just in case… Manuel can't decide if it's because they are trying to pressure him by making him feel unimportant? Or by making him feel so important they cannot imagine not having him with them?
Mario is about to walk in just as he walks out, accompanied by a satisfied looking agent. Manuel blinks a second too long, and Mario nods his understanding. He's followed inside by an agent who's reaching into his pocket in search of a pen. Mario buries his hands in his own pockets and his gaze in the ground.
It's later that day, it is night and Mario is finally standing at Manuel's doorstep. They sit on the couch, not a word passed between them since that morning at the club. Manuel now remembers how it was then, so many years ago. They were in the same position, on the same couch even. The north was just starting to get cold, Bavaria was already snowing. They were sitting at Manuel's, unable yet to admit there is something between them, a tension they are too scared to face.
"I..." Mario starts, then stops, swallowing hard, "Today, the meeting…"
He doesn't get to finish. Manuel is on top of him now, kissing him, pinning him down to the cushions. Mario doesn’t resist, letting go, giving in and joining him. Manuel pushes him further, puts his whole weight into the kiss until Mario whimpers under him, his body limp. Manuel knows he can take him right there; still, he takes him to his bed.
Mario lays on the big bed and looks even smaller than usual. Shirt off, fly open, chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing and Manuel knows exactly what he can do now. He doesn't ask because t is clear to both of them he will get it anyway. He pushes too hard into the small body underneath him. He answers the soft whimper he receives with a bite to the side of the neck. Mario arches up into him and Manuel increases his pace, his torso pressing Mario's into the mattress. Manuel knows what he's doing, knows he's only trying to compensate for the distance he's about to put between them.
After, Manuel turns away from Mario, unable to look straight at the lost, innocent look on his face. It's late and they have training in the morning. Mario turns to his lover, trailing a fingernail along on the back in front of him. Manuel can't close his eyes. Mario whispers into his neck, and Manuel hopes it doesn't only sounds like "dich liebt."
Mario turns again, but make sure to keep the slightest contact between them. Maybe Mario knows what he's doing as well. Maybe Manuel hasn't got a clue.
XXX
It's April, and he's made his decision.
They had won against Bayern, moving on to the final in Berlin. He wants to know something, but he can't say it yet.
He waits until May, till Raul's happiness protects him from the angry, accusing, hurting, hurtful, crowd. Only then does he dare to ask him, whether he's still excited after all those titles. Raul answers with a shining smile and twinkling eyes. How, Manuel asks. Raul stumbles with his German, then says in English, "I can't explain."
"Ok" Manuel answers, "maybe if I ever come back I'll understand."
"No" says Raul, "when you understand, you'll come back."
It's April, and he's made up his mind. Mario is by his side, his eyes soft and comforting. Mario hands him the phone.
"Horst?" Manuel's voice shakes. "Let's go win us a title."
Mario squeezes his hand firmly, then lets go.