Work Text:
“I have to go,” Hakimi murmurs against his lips, his hands on his chest but they aren’t pushing him away. No, he is doing a lot of things but not pushing. He is feeling the steady beat of Kylian’s heart against his palm, committing his scent to his memory and counting each breath he takes.
“Then go,” the French forward replies but still he makes no move to leave.
Oftentimes they get lost in each other, in their own little world. Like when they act like kids teasing each other on the pitch or when they are making love out of it. And it only gets more difficult to remember anything outside of themselves.
The sound of his phone receiving back to back messages is what finally sets him in motion. Most likely it is his wife wondering if he is on his way to the dinner he had promised to attend. Achraf tries not to frown as he untangles his limbs from Mbappé’s, tries not to feel like spending time with his wife is a chore. But it is becoming harder and harder to leave his lover each time.
He avoids Kylian’s gaze as he dresses and makes himself presentable. If he were to meet his dark eyes, the Moroccan knows his resolve would crumble and he would climb right back into his bed. Hakimi does not know whether or not to be grateful that Mbappé never asks him to stay, does not push or plead. He knows the other’s ego would not let him, that already their relationship is testing the limits of his self-esteem. The Parisian is not used to coming second, after all.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He finally says as he shrugs on his bomber jacket.
The younger man just hums noncommittally and Achraf looks at him now.
“I might have plans,” Kylian shrugs.
Hakimi nods slowly, trying not to feel disappointed. That was fine, he needs to-
“With Ney,” Mbappé continues.
He stills and he instantly feels colder despite the jacket he has just donned.
“But he might cancel, he probably will..” The other continues, unaware of his inner turmoil.
Achraf knows that Mbappé and Neymar have been working on rebuilding their friendship. It is still in its early stages but Kylian has really been trying to extend the olive branch. This is evident in their most recent game against Pays de Cassel. Everywhere he tuned in, he could not escape photos and videos of the centre forward jumping into the Brazilian’s arms during a celebration. The first one since they had become distant. The whole football world seems to be excited for the duo’s return. If only Hakimi could muster up the same feelings.
“Haki?”
He flushes at being caught in his own train of thoughts.
“That’s great, Kyks. I’m happy for you,” He hears himself say. The lie tastes like ash in his mouth and he tries not to make a face.
His phone fires off another round of notifications and this time he feels relieved he has a clear exit from this conversation.
“Let me know how it goes?”
He steps forward to press a kiss to the Parisian’s forehead. I love you , it says and he hopes Kylian understands. Don’t leave me behind, it whispers.
“I’ll keep you updated. Now go, you’ll be late!” Mbappé shooes him away with a laugh. And he wonders in what world he has stepped into that his lover would send him home to his wife with a smile. It is almost funny, in a way, almost. Other men might consider him lucky but Hakimi just feels unsettled as he finally takes his leave. Sometimes he wishes that Kylian would be a little more selfish but instead it is him who is left wanting more each time.
He thinks Qatar has left its mark on him. Not Morocco’s lost in the semi finals but the lost of his lover. Never mind how brief it had been or that Hakimi had not truly believed it to be the end of them- would not let them finish in such a way. No, it was the quickness that the younger man came to the conclusion that he needs to be thrown away. Then actually executing it. He has been left with a fear that Mbappé could do it once more.
Achraf never wants to go through that again. Remembers feeling cold, numb and frozen in that room as Kylian tried to part from him.
“We all sacrifice for our love.”
He does not think he could survive it a second time. The irony of him being upset that he comes second in the heart of the man he loves when he himself is married is not lost on him.
But Achraf knows it is different now. That in fact Qatar and America after has only drawn them closer. Hakimi likes to think that he is indispensable as a teammate, best friend, confidant and lover. He cannot be so easily replaced, and has worked hard to prove himself in the eyes of the French forward. Despite all of this he can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of his hard work turning to dust.
He grips the steering wheel and speeds to the restaurant. Achraf would pay any fine if he could outrun his treacherous thoughts.
The Moroccan spends the next day with his family and yet… and yet he could not stop thinking of Kylian. Of his bright smile and kind eyes, his boisterous laugh and he wonders if Neymar was getting to witness all of it today instead of him.
He checks his phone every now and then for a message and when none come he checks instagram for a post or story. Nothing. At least, none from Mbappé’ himself. Finally, in the afternoon a post from Neymar on his instagram story. A video of the two of them, Kylian under his arm and the two singing out of key. As if the past couple months had never happened.
Hakimi feels his stomach drop.
There it is. What the whole football world has been waiting for with baited breath. The return of the golden duo. He clenches his jaw, the thought terrifies him.
Hiba calls his name and he pockets his phone. He does not look at it for the rest of the day.
That night he makes love to his wife tenderly, almost desperately with trembling hands.
“I love you, I love you..”
But the words are not for her. Not really.
His spouse does not need him, she is beautiful, strong and independent. If he were to disappear tomorrow, Hiba would continue just as she is now. Achraf had married her knowing this. At the time, he was happy with this arrangement. His football career was just starting and he appreciated that she did not need him by her side constantly to hold her hand. He had thought that was what he wanted in a relationship.
Until he actually fell in love that is.
Now he knows what it is like to want to spend every waking moment with the person you love. To want and need but also the desire to be wanted and needed in equal turn. Now there is something aching and filled with teeth inside his chest. Achraf wants to laugh at the wrongness of it all. To get on his knees and pray for clarity or forgiveness he does not know. Instead, he holds Hiba closer and sleeps. In his slumber he dreams of Kylian’s soothing voice, the comforting weight of his arms.
In the dead of night his phone flashes.
One missed call.
Kylian Mbappé.
In the early morning Achraf stares at it blankly, breathing slowly, pretends that his breath doesn’t catch in his chest at the mere sight of his name. He considers calling back but the Parisian is most likely still asleep, they will see each other soon in practice anyway. He gathers himself for Fajr instead. It centres and grounds him like he had hoped it would.
He arrives at training feeling lighter until he enters the locker room and he sees Mbappé and Neymar huddled together on a bench. Just like that he is thrown off kilter again and it feels like falling, like losing.
They both look up in sync and greet him good morning. “Morning,” Hakimi exhales, smiles stiffly in return. He avoids Kylian’s eyes and changes into his training gear. Once dressed, he immediately heads for the pitch.
“Where are you going?” Mbappé calls out and he just jerks his head towards the exit, where the plume of fog hangs over the window. He would rather brave the cold outside than stay. He doesn’t get cold, he reminds himself.
Achraf is taking the first step outside when suddenly there are hands on his shoulders, steering him away to another training room that is blessedly empty.
“I called you last night.”
“It was late, I was with Hiba,” He replies with a half-hearted shrug as he stares at the wall above the other’s head. His lover, as always, is too bright to look at, as golden as the full moon on a starry night.
“Achraf.”
“Kylian.”
“What’s wrong?”
Hakimi considers his words, breathing in slowly. He wants to ignore it and pretend that nothing is bothering him, that this is all a figure of Mbappé’s imagination but the dubious look on the Parisian’s face tells him it wouldn’t be so easy.
How does he begin?
I want to be first.
While he wears the number 2 jersey on the pitch, it does not mean he wants to come second in everything. To be a mere afterthought in everyone’s minds.
He was never Hiba’s first priority and now he has to fight tooth and nail to keep his spot in his beloved’s heart. If he is going to be brutally honest to himself, he had merely inserted himself in the cracks that had formed between Kylian and Neymar. They had been drawn together by their loneliness and from the fracture of the two’s friendship, something vague and undefinable sprouted between him and Mbappé.
He raises his shoulders and finally looks into dark eyes.
“I’m in love with you.”
Kylian falters at that and he does not blame him, he can count with one hand the number of times he has said the words out loud. In fact, this is only the second time.
“And I’m a jealous bastard,” He confesses.
For a moment there is silence, vibrant and deafeningly loud.
Mbappé bursts out into boyish laughter, throwing his head back. A sliver of want runs down his spine at the sight, a thin thread of possession.
“Is this about Neymar?” He continues to laugh.
“No,” he says, tone clipped with denial though there was no use now.
The French forward snorts before reaching out to flick the space between his eyebrows. Before he could even shout he is drawn into a bone crushing hug.
“Oh, ma moitié, ” He sighs.
“I won’t be second,” Hakimi mutters even as he returns the embrace, buries his face into Kylian’s neck and breathes him in.
“You’re an idiot, that’s what you are.”
He closes his eyes and hums.
“It’s your fault. This is all your fault.”
Mbappé shushes him as if he is a babe.
“I’m yours as long as you’re mine.”
His heart skips a beat. This is everything he wants and has been needing to get rid of the fear and treacherous thoughts he has been shouting into the void. He thinks that love makes a fool of everyone.
Achraf finds Kylian’s smiling mouth and leans in. His plush lips make him dizzy. Then he is blessedly thoughtless.