Chapter Text
Okay, Suarez was terrifying.
The man didn't really care. He liked the idea that people saw him and were terrified. He liked the idea that people told OTHERS about him and advised them to avoid him.
It gave him a euphoric feeling. It felt great.
He wasn't lonely either because he knew his best friends, Neymar, Messi, etc., weren't afraid of him. And the rest of his Barcelona teammates liked or tolerated him. Or they suffered silently. Because, as previously stated, Suarez was terrifying. If you had a problem with him, the solution is simple.
There is no problem.
Because the Uruguayan did not deal with it. He did things his way because that's how he's always done them.
Kick ass, frighten people, and socialize with Neymar and Messi. Nothing else was necessary to him.
That is, until one day.
Something—or rather, someone—caught his attention.
Barcelona vs. Real Madrid, an El Clasico match.
That wasn't anything new, after all, El Clasico has been around since the 1900s. Furthermore, this was not Suarez's first game against Real Madrid.
But something was different this time.
Suarez was familiar with all of the players. Name, last name, and number. When someone new entered the game, his brain quickly changed the name assigned to the number. And he did it EVERY TIME before a match. But it appears he has lost touch.
James Rodriguez was ten. At least, he thought that was the case.
Someone else now had the number plastered on their back.
That person was right there on the benches, as the coach was explaining something to the man.
He had short blonde hair that reached the middle of his neck. Brown eyes graced his face, which were already brimming with determination and eagerness. He wasn't particularly tall, probably about the same height as Messi. And he's not scrawny; he's got some muscle. He wouldn't be a footballer without the some muscle
Suarez got lost in the way that man looked, and that was strike one. He and a few others stood there watching as the short man ran onto the field and to his position. It allowed Luis to see the man's back. Number 10.
Modrić..
But he didn't think much of it. He didn't let Modrić's beauty—the LOOKS of Modrić—distract him from the game. He's seen beautiful people before, so why should this be any different?
However, as the game progressed, strike number two was made.
Luis kept an eye on the new number 10 while running. It was impressive to see how the man moved and followed the ball. He's not going to lie. He refused to acknowledge that the way Modrić was acting made his heart skip a beat.
But it was strike number two.
The third strike was the most crucial. The one that allowed bells to ring inside Luis's head.
They had reached the 70th minute. 2-2. Messi and Pique scored for Barcelona, while Ramos and Bale scored for Real.
Everyone was getting tired, as evidenced by the fact that the ball didn't seem to travel very far.
However, neither team gave up and continued to fight like wild animals. No team was willing to give up on the other. And Suarez adored it. The adrenaline rush...
The carelessness. That's when he realized he could.. 'play'.
He stood in the middle of the field looking for his prey. For someone he could pursue. Someone…
Small.
His eyes widened, a light smirk tugging at his lips as he watched Ramos pass the ball to a waiting Modrić.
He moved quickly, sprinting towards the player just as he started to move.
Suarez followed him, running close to him as Modrić ran past him. Modrić was focused, staring ahead and ignoring the other, who was practically towering over him.
He made a mistake. Luis Suarez did not appreciate being ignored.
He smirked, then dunked, pushing the ball away from Modrić before tripping the man down to the ground with him.
"HEY!!" He could hear the whistle, people running towards them, and fans booing and cheering. Luis recognized the person who yelled as Cristiano, their group's 'golden star'... made sense.
He himself stood up quickly. But Modrić was still on the floor, clutching his leg in pain.
'I should have known he was no fun.'
Cristiano arrived just in time, yelling at Suarez.
"I didn't mean to do it!" "Yeah right!"
Then something... unexpected happened. Something that Suarez does not experience usually.
People are afraid of him after something like that. Because he made sure that those he attacked knew it wasn't an accident. He made sure that no one wanted to face him after that.
Modrić, on the other hand. Modrić was not like that.
Modrić sat up as soon as Cristiano pushed Luis away from his teammate. Modrić was staring at him, even though his hands were wrapped around his ankle, clearly in pain. The same fire he saw in his eyes when he was put in there, only brighter.
…Wow.
"What the hell?" Modrić yelled, the referee ignored him and raised a yellow card, Cristiano kept pushing Suarez away but...
He couldn't concentrate on that. At all. It was met with silence.
He could only concentrate on Modrić.
Who stared at him even as Cristiano assisted him in getting back on his feet.
Indeed, strike three.
—--------------
They were victorious. Despite Real Madrid's best efforts, Messi, bless his heart, scored another goal for his team in the 89th minute.
It was pretty much over by that point.
There was cheering and singing in the locker room, and everyone was overjoyed that they had won. Even Messi, who believed that human interaction was created by Satan, was enjoying his conversation with Neymar.
Despite this, Luis remained quiet, showering and changing his clothes alone.
It's not that he wasn't satisfied. He was, and every victory felt fantastic to him. And he was so happy that Messi and Neymar were happy too
But he couldn't... focus on them.
He was still thinking about the number ten. Modrić. His eyes, fixed on him back there. His slim physique. The focus on the game...
Suarez found it all... fascinating.
Neymar sat next to him on the bench as he zipped up his bag.
The Brazilian was smiling, but his eyes revealed that he was more confused than anything else right now.
"Why aren't you singing with us, Luis?"
Have they been singing? Wow, he'd gotten completely lost in his thoughts.
"I was just thinking." "About what?" "The game."
"The game was WON! What could you possibly be thinking about?" Neymar asked, blinking at Suarez.
"The yellow card"
….
Neymar blinked. Once, twice...
"Who are you, and why have you done to our Luis?"
"I'm serious," Luis sighed.
"So am I! Since when do YOU care about such things?"
"Maybe it's not about the card," a gentle voice cut through their conversation. Both Luis and Neymar turned their gazes as their star player, Messi, sat down on the other side of the Uruguayan.
"Did you hear us?"
"... Was I not supposed to?" Messi inquired.
"Well, no, but-"
"Then there's no problem."
Neymar chuckled before returning to his stoic expression.
"What exactly do you mean? Not concerned with the yellow card? "I'm just saying," he said. "It is about IT but not it."
"What?" blinked Neymar.
Messi sighed and chuckled slightly, letting his friends know he wasn't annoyed at all.
"Luis is thinking about the new guy."
"Oh!" Neymar burst out laughing "Oh, the one you pushed over? Is that who you're thinking of?"
Messi stroked Suarez's shoulder. "You did not injure him-"
"Once again, not it."
Messi froze, perplexed. "Is it not about Modrić?"
"No, I mean it is. But I don't mind if I hurt him."
That was a huge lie. It made his heart ache just thinking about it.
….that's new
His best friends exchanged puzzled looks.
"So, what is it?" Neymar inquired after a few moments.
There were only three of them in the room at the moment. They could speak freely without fear of being overheard or exposed. Perfect for Luis . He had confidence and trust in his two friends, but his team as a whole...
"Just.." Luis looked ahead, aware of his friends' gazes on him.
What does he say to them? That he thinks Modrić is cute? That his determination caused his heart to stop beating? That his glare put him in a trance? That he wanted to see the smaller man again and try to understand him better in order to appease the voice in his head that begged him to see Modrić again?
"Him," Suarez hummed.
"...only him?" "Only him"
Messi took a breather. "Do you like the new guy, Luis?"
Messi and his amazing fucking reading abilities.
"Oh come on, Leo, be serious!" laughed Neymar. " Unless it's me or you, Luis doesn't just LIKE people!" "Is there anything else it could be?"
The two continued to argue lightly back and forth, all the while Luis kept his gaze fixed on the lockers, just inside his head.
….
"I guess"
"What?!" Neymar yelled as Messi laughed "See? I told you."
"You have feelings for someone?! And it's a BLANCO?"
Messi looked at Neymar with a cocked eyebrow, "Don't you like-"
"SHHH"
Luis looked at his two companions.
"I think I do."
Messi raised an eyebrow, ignoring a rowdy Neymar. "What? Do you like him?"
"Yeah, he's... interesting, I suppose."
"What do you mean?" Messi inquired, both he and Suarez deciding to ignore Neymar, who continued to speak about his not-love interest.
"His eyes" "What about his eyes?"
Luis finally looked at Messi "They're overflowing with eagerness. Determination. Focus. When I pushed him over, he kept the fire going."
Messi looked up. "Do you mean—" "Yes. He wasn't afraid or even puzzled, Leo. He fixed his gaze on me. As if I were just dirt beneath his shoes."
Messi hummed, his gaze fixed on the ground "So you like that he's... unique? "
"Yes... yes- I do. He's different, and that's what makes him so fascinating."
…..
The two tensed as Neymar abruptly rose from the bench and turned to face them "Okay, then. Let's go find him."
Messi and Suarez exchanged glances.
"huh?!" Luis, who was stunned, stood up as well. "What exactly do you mean, go get him?! You said it yourself: he's a Blanco!"
"That was before you admitted you liked him!"
"That doesn't-"
"Come on, Luis, when are you going to find another guy like that?"
…
That was an excellent point. Suarez has never met anyone who even compares to Modrić. Everyone was afraid of him, at least most of the time. Despite being smaller, on the floor, and in PAIN, Modrić stared him down. The smaller of the two was well aware of his worth.
"Not ever, right?" "So let's go find your man!" smirked Neymar.
Messi cleared his throat, and Neymar turned to face him.
"You do realize that's not going to happen? He pushed Modrić to the ground. I don't think he'd just... accept Luis' feelings."
That's a good point.
Suarez should probably just give up.
"So now he apologizes!"
Record scratch...
"I don't apologize," Luis said, brow furrowed and glaring at Neymar.
"If you want the guy to like you back, I think Luis Suarez does apologize," Neymar responded, seemingly unaffected by the glare.
"Ugh.. Even if I apologized, there's no guarantee he'll forgive me," Luis added.
"You'll never know unless you try!"
"He has a point," Messi said, finally standing up, "apologize... could make things easier for you."
"..." Luis sighed, rolling his eyes at his two friends. "Fine. Whatever. What proposal do you have, wise one?"
"Just watch," smirked Neymar.