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If there was one thing that Virgil van Dijk absolutely hated, it was seeing his friends and teammates sad. It was one thing to experience a lost game or trophy with the whole team, or injuries, because he knew the cause.
It was another thing entirely to see someday upset without a clear reason why.
Van Dijk had met Alisson during the UCL semi finals, and the two had slowly begun to bond. The goalkeeper’s move to Liverpool had definitely sped things along, and soon the two had become fast friends. They spent at least two hours of every day together, off the pitch as well as on it. All that time led Van Dijk to crack open the case that was Alisson Becker.
*
He’d known something was wrong as soon as Alisson had avoided nearly all human contact upon entering the training ground. Alisson hadn’t responded to any of the jokes they’d cracked, and he’d also had problems focusing during training—something that almost never happened.
The lack of talking worried Van Dijk, but not as much as Alisson’s avoidance of all his teammates unless it was absolutely necessary. Alisson absolutely loved hugs and touching; even the silence was strange, considering how close he was with the squad.
The final straw was when Klopp, who’d seemed to have noticed the keeper’s mysterious behavior, tried to reach out to him for a hug. Alisson, who’d been in Klopp’s path already, had dodged the German to go back to his goalnet. That was all Van Dijk needed to feel that he and his friend were long overdue for a talk.
During a break, Van Dijk decided to make his move. Alisson was balanced against the goalkeeper mural wall, staring into space. His scarf was wrapped high around him, so Van Dijk couldn’t make out any facial expressions.
“Ali!” he called, running towards the wall before the other could avoid him. “What’s the matter with you today? Come on, you can tell me.”
Alisson was deathly still and for a moment, Van Dijk thought he’d finally cornered him. Then he received a shock as Alisson basically sprinted off the pitch.
“Is this something normal?!” Van Dijk yelled to nobody in particular. He froze when he realized the whole team was watching.
Firmino, thankfully, provided a helpful yet simple answer. “He’s never like this.”
That was all the evidence Van Dijk needed to chase after Alisson, quickly yelling a brief yet hasty explanation to the rest of the team. They all seemed just as confused as he was.
*
Van Dijk sprinted after Alisson, calling for him in every direction possible. The Brazilian, usually cautious to a fault, would become hasty when his emotions got the better of him. Particularly, the strong ones.
As a goalkeeper, one could be forgiven to think that Alisson’s running skills were slightly subpar to Van Dijk. Wrong—they were actually a little better, much to Van Dijk’s shock. Apparently, that applied to vanishing as well, because when Van Dijk had almost caught up to Alisson, he rounded a corner and Alisson had disappeared.
"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed in frustration, slamming a fist into the wall. "Since when does a goalkeeper become so fast?!"
Since he couldn't chase Alisson, Van Dijk decided to try a different tactic. He located the nearest broom closet and sat on a bucket inside it, locking the outside door like it had never been opened. Just as he'd predicted, Alisson burst inside the broom closet and curled up against a pile of coats, utterly distraught.
“Ali, mijn jade? Did I scare you earlier?” Van Dijk decided to get straight to the point instead of asking what Alisson was doing in the closet. He already knew that anyway.
Alisson didn’t seem to acknowledge Van Dijk’s presence, even after the Dutchman sat down right next to him. The lights were very dim in the closet, so Van Dijk still couldn’t make out anything purely by look.
“Did I startle you?” Van Dijk asked again. “One tap for yes and two taps for no.”
He’d figured out the system from accidentally walking in on Klopp and Alisson having a private talk after a loss. Alisson had kept asking Klopp questions, and Klopp had tapped on the wooden desk in varying patterns. Later on, Alisson explained to Van Dijk that sometimes, Klopp would temporarily stop talking after a loss. The “tap language”, as they called it, was a way of communicating without talking.
Alisson tapped the tiles twice, then tapped over his heart. Van Dijk didn’t understand until Alisson explained it further.
“I can’t stop thinking about my dad today. I didn’t want to go to training, but we’re already in the building, so I just decided to train anyway.”
“Why?” Van Dijk mentally slapped himself at the question—it was short and didn’t even cover the topic. “The boss would’ve understood.”
Instead of a response, the keeper rocked in place, gently humming as if trying not to lose it. Van Dijk pulled him into his arms, and Alisson broke down, clinging to the Dutchman like a small koala. For a long while, neither said anything as they held onto each other.
“We’re already having a tough season. I can’t miss so much training. I know that it's stupid. It happened more than two years ago, I should be over it." His words were muffled by Van Dijk's training shirt, but the Dutchman made out enough of it to clap a hand over his mouth. Thinking about it later, he realized it probably wasn't the best option; but it allowed Alisson to stop rambling.
"It's not stupid," Van Dijk insisted. "He's still your father, whether alive or dead. You knew him as long as you could remember."
Alisson pressed closer to Van Dijk, hugging him tighter as if that would prevent him from leaving. Not like it had a cause behind it--Van Dijk had no intent to leave the younger man, not after this. "I-I just don't understand, Virgil. I can be okay for months, but then it all comes crashing down again."
Van Dijk was silent after hearing that. He always tried his best to relate with his teammates, but the reality was that he didn't share some things in common with them. That included the death of a close relative, which he was fortunate not to have experienced.
"Grief is not linear," he said in a near-whisper, almost to himself. "People kept telling me that once this happened or that passed, everything would be better. Some people gave me one year to grieve. They saw grief as a straight line, with a beginning, middle, and end. But it is not linear. It is disjointed."
"That's from a book, right?"
Van Dijk nodded, slightly flustered that Alisson had heard him. "Yes, Ann Hood. How'd you guess?"
Alisson chuckled quietly, leaning on Van Dijk's shoulder so the two had some eye contact. "I hate to break it to you Virg, but you're not exactly a poet."
The joke told Van Dijk that he hadn't put his foot in his mouth, and that he had indeed helped. "And you're not exactly James Bond. So next time you're feeling like this, don't try to hide it, okay? Talk to me, talk to Bobby, talk to the boss. Anybody, just don't hide it. Are we clear?"
Alisson nodded. "Crystal clear."
"Good. Now how about we get out of here?" Van Dijk suggested, standing up and pulling Alisson to his feet. "I don't know how you can fit into these broom closets, they're Xherdan-sized."
Alisson smirked at the thought of his short ex-teammate. The Swiss international was actually five feet seven inches, but he was dwarfed by a team of six footers. "They're not that small, Virgil-- ay, caramba !"
"What's wrong?' Van Dijk wondered aloud. He walked up to Alisson and tried the doorknob. It wouldn't budge. " Oh verdomme ."
"We're stuck!"