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"Let's go outside," Klopp announced, dropping the newspaper he'd been reading. In a few strides, he was at the door. "Come on Zel, you too."
Buvac raised an eyebrow at Klopp refusing to get up from the couch. "Is this another one of your shenanigans?"
When Buvac pulled out the big words, it meant that he was also pulling out his infamous obstinacy. So Klopp decided to pull out his own secret weapon.
"Your German is getting so good, Zeljko. It makes me feel like I need to brush up on my Bonsaian."
"It's Bosnian ," Buvac corrected him with an exasperated sigh. "It's easier than some of the words in German. So I am learning the harder language and therefore I am the ultra-god."
Klopp smiled sweetly, pointing outside. "If so, then could you tell me the name of that tree outside in both languages?"
Buvac pried himself off the sofa and walked towards the door, sticking almost his whole body outside. "Which tree—ooh Yuri, you rascal! You tricked me!"
Klopp closed the door behind them, dragging Buvac away from the house. "Who's the ultra-god now?"
*
That was how they ended up in a secluded marsh, surrounded by storks and various waterbirds. Buvac hummed softly to himself while Klopp braided random flowers into his friend's long, brown hair.
"Your hair is great, have I ever told you that? It's so moisturized." Klopp picked a small buttercup, weaving it into the braid. "And it looks so cute when it's braided, too."
"Shut up." But Buvac's relaxed demeanor was there for all to see. "If your hair was long, I'd braid it solely for revenge."
Klopp chuckled at the revenge bit, knowing that the even-tempered Buvac rarely even fought with someone. "Do you ever keep the braids? Or do you take them out when you get home?"
"Once I did, just before the international break. I accidentally turned up to a family reunion with them and oh boy, was that embarrassing. Everyone teased me for weeks.” Buvac turned towards his younger teammate, laying on the soft marsh grass. “Don’t know about you Germans, but back in Bosnia braids are not manly.”
Klopp rolled his eyes, flopping back onto the ground as well. “Are you kidding me? It’s even worse here. My hair isn’t particularly long but it’s longer than usual , and I never hear the last of people who want me to cut it short.”
“Did you always have it this way?” Buvac wondered aloud. His eyes were shut and it sounded like he was falling asleep. “I mean, this long?”
“No…not really. I started growing it out as a teenager, and then I guess it stuck. What about you? Did you always have your hair this long?”
No response.
“Zel?”
A loud snore muffled by the long grass told Klopp that Buvac had already fallen asleep in the warm springtime sun. A couple of curious stork chicks waddled over and hopped onto Buvac’s head, snuggling into his hair. They didn’t seem to mind the fact that there were two six foot adult humans in the vicinity, or even the shutter of the camera.
“Manly enough for some damn idiots or not,” Klopp said to himself, stuffing the photos in his wallet, “I’m never going to let him forget this.”