Words Of Affirmation

He ran out into the backyard as the shouting from inside followed him. It was only muffled, not entirely silent; but for twelve year old Virgil, the lack of noise was freeing.

He kicked the ball into the fence over and over again until he could barely see it from the tears in his eyes. It had been months since his parents had split up, but hearing them arguing over the phone still caused his stomach to turn and his hands to go cold.

“Ball!” Little Jennifer toddled into the backyard, chasing after the football and bringing it back to her brother. She’d only turned two recently, and when their ten year old brother, Jordan, was at school, she would follow Virgil like a shadow.

Virgil didn’t want to respond. He felt like curling up into a ball and hiding away from the world. But the thought of ignoring his little sister made him feel even worse than the fighting did.

He wiped away his tears and forced a smile as he took the ball from her. Even if she could tell something wasn't right with their parents, he didn't need to worry Jennifer. "Thanks, Jenni.”

He kicked the ball a few more times to humor Jennifer, but his heart wasn't in it. His parents' fighting still echoed, even as he carried Jennifer around the yard, talking about everything and nothing so she wouldn't hear the words flying in the air.

A small part of Virgil smiled at seeing Jennifer so happy, but he still couldn't find it in himself to feel the same. At first he'd wanted to live with his father, but then he'd decided to go back with his mother. Ever since then, their father had never shown up around the house again. Now Jordan hated him for making their father never come back, and Jennifer wouldn't remember him at all.

He couldn’t do it anymore. Hiding Jennifer’s face into his shirt so she wouldn’t see anything, he burst into tears, letting out all the pain and frustration that had been building up inside him for months. Jennifer looked up at him with concern in her eyes, but Virgil couldn't bring himself to explain what was wrong. He just hugged her tightly and cried hot tears that should've been too grownup for thirteen. He barely registered the hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him.

Van Dijk woke up with a start when he realised that he wasn’t in a backyard in Breda anymore and that his arms weren’t holding his two-year-old sister. He was in his bed in Kirkby, and the person his arms were wrapped around was nobody other than Alisson. He’d caught the flu that had been running rampant in the team, and had fallen asleep in Van Dijk's bed while Van Dijk was trying to get his fever down. His fever still lingered and his cheeks were still flushed. And if his tossing and turning was anything to go by, he also seemed to be dealing with very lucid, very troubling fever dreams.

As his heart rate slowed to a safe, stable pace, Van Dijk glanced over at the alarm clock on the side of the bed. It was six thirty-seven in the morning, far too early for either of them to begin the day. But he’d seen Alisson sick before, and his boyfriend’s fever dreams only tended to get crazier and more poignant as they went on for longer.

Van Dijk pulled the covers off Alisson, allowing the cooler air in the room to even out his hot, feverish body. “Ali, wake up. You’re having a fever dream.”

Alisson didn’t respond, instead flipping over so he and Van Dijk were face to face. Van Dijk reached his hand out to touch Alisson's cheek, and paused when he felt the slightly crusty tear tracks under his eyes.

So that's why I had that dream. Van Dijk knew it wasn't exactly true, but he felt better linking his memory-nightmare to outside influence than to his own thoughts. “Wake up, Ali! It's just a fever dream.”

Alisson groaned and slowly opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused for a few moments before he recognized Van Dijk. "What…what happened?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse from the fever.

"You were having a fever dream," Van Dijk repeated, his hand still on Alisson's cheek. "It's okay now, you're awake. But...can I ask what it was about, if you remember? You were crying in your sleep."

Alisson sat up straight and blinked a few times as his gaze darted from Van Dijk to the still-dark room, trying to process something. Eventually he slumped back against the pillows, burying every part of him but his head under the covers.

"What day is it?"

Van Dijk's eyes widened as he quickly opened his phone and checked the calendar. Of all the responses he'd prepared himself for, this was not one of them. "It's Tuesday, the 13th.”

"That would explain the dreams.” Alisson sighed, staring at the ceiling and blinking heavily as if trying to hold back more tears. "Their league starts back on the fifteenth. I dreamt of Bobby and Fabi again, but this time they floated away from me and they were smiling.”

Van Dijk shook his head, pulling Alisson in for a one-armed hug. It had been almost nine months since Firmino and Fabilo had both left the team to go play out of the continent. While Alisson had been coping well with the departure of his best friends recently, some days were worse than others.

"I'm here, mijn jade , you're okay now." As much as Van Dijk wanted to let Alisson talk about it, he was still reeling from his own nightmare. But he couldn’t just do nothing. “Bobby and Fabi love and miss us, remember? They'd want you to be happy and find somebody new. They didn't want to leave you."

Thinking back on it later, Van Dijk realised that the last part was only slightly out of spite. But it seemed to work for Alisson, because he let out a shaky breath and leaned into Van Dijk's embrace. "I know, I just...I miss them so much. They're literally part of me, and moving on feels like throwing all that away."

"But they wouldn't want to see you miserable, remember? You can find somebody new, and move on, and everything can be fine." Van Dijk said softly, rubbing circles on Alisson's back. "Maybe you can try going back to sleep until later. It's not even seven yet.”

Alisson nodded, sniffling and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I'll try. Night, Virg.”

"But it's early morning—" Van Dijk shook his head in faint amusement as he heard faint breathing from his left side. "Never mind that. Sleep well, mijn jade ."

As Alisson slept beside him, Van Dijk couldn't sleep at all. He couldn't help but think back to his own nightmare. He couldn't shake off the feeling that his childhood memories still bothered him, even at the ripe age of thirty-two, but when he considered talking about it, a seasoned voice scolded him to stop being selfish and think about something other than himself.

Alisson's fever dream hadn't sounded too graphic or traumatic, and he'd fallen back asleep with no problems at all. But Van Dijk knew Alisson like the back of his own hand. Even though the dream had been relatively peaceful compared to his own, it could end up haunting Alisson for up to half a day. Combined with his already weakened state from the flu, leaving Alisson alone for the day was probably the worst idea ever.

Van Dijk flipped his pillow with one hand and closed his eyes, his mind already forming a plan for the day. He would just toss all his negative thoughts and worries in a bin and focus on keeping an eye on Alisson. It would be easy.

Right?

*

Since Klopp had sent the medics and their kids home after the flu breakout began, breakfast was more of a self-serve buffet of assorted dishes than a full meal. Everybody gathered at the table as usual and passed the dishes around, the mood and conversation much lighter than it had been the morning before.

"And then I completed that hot knee slide towards the Anfield Road End! But I think I need a new celebration.”

"Look at our academy-born left-back! The wee Curtis, born yesterday and scoring today! I should write a song about it and sing it during Scotland duty—"

“Robbo, shut it!”

Van Dijk listlessly stirred his coffee as the usual morning chatter and conversation swirled around his ears. Normally he would partake in at least three of those conversations, but his mind felt strangely grey and slow. The only thing he could think of were the dreams and conversation from earlier that morning.

What part of "finding someone new" did Alisson not understand? Moving on was part of life. It was certainly part of life when you woke up at twelve years old and, suddenly, you were the oldest male in the house. It was certainly part of life when you had to choose who to live with. It was most certainly part of life when you made that choice and, suddenly, your father wanted nothing to do with you.

Having people that cared about you, even from afar, had always been a luxury to Van Dijk instead of a necessity. Once Van Dijk let somebody become a necessity instead of a luxury, saying goodbye felt like ripping a piece of his heart out and burying it on the other side of the world. The strange thing about life, or rather Liverwool itself, was that the love in the air strengthened other bonds and made them deeper. He'd never meant to make friends in the team.

But over time, his chats with Wijnaldum at the start of training became Chinese checkers sessions with him in the afternoons and nights out after the match. High-fiving Alexander-Arnold and calling him "kid" turned into carrying the teen around on his back and comforting him after a bad match. Bumping into Lijnders after a match became coffee with him before breakfast.

Alisson accidentally putting his stuff into Van Dijk's locker when he first came to the team led to Van Dijk and Alisson moving in together so they wouldn't be alone during lockdown. Teaching Firmino how to speak Dutch after his first attempt failed miserably led to Firmino keeping him company during his knee injury, distracting him from his depressive thoughts with long anecdotes and descriptions of crazy dreams. Henderson and Van Dijk fixing the coffee machine after it broke down in the middle of a coffee-tasting session turned into them golfing once a week, jamming to Alicia Keys' discography on the way to the golf court.

Each of them and many more had worked their way past Van Dijk's walls, into becoming a part of his life and his heart. And some of them, like Wijnaldum and Firmino, had left physically, while others had moved on from that stage of life. Alexander-Arnold was now a young man of twenty-five years old, not a teenager that got piggyback rides on his older teammates. Firmino was now prolific in Dutch and playing in the Middle East, where he lived in a mansion along with some of the other expatriate players in the league. Henderson was now an entirely different person, one whose memory only served up pain and betrayal.

Everything had changed so fast, and that wasn't really the problem. The problem was that the things that were supposed to remain constant, like paternal love, had changed so early that Van Dijk barely remembered what that love was supposed to feel like.

Klopp tapped the edge of his coffee mug with the back of his spoon. Eventually, the commotion quieted as everybody looked towards their manager.

“I thought that since the snowstorm from yesterday cleared up, we could have our outside training early." Klopp glanced outside the window at the sunny, brisk weather outside. “Stefan, Thiago, Trentski, Domi, Mo, Ben, Joel, and Ryan, you'll be with the physios. Some of you will join us out on the pitch for individual or group work, and others will be doing rehab inside.”

Bacetic rolled his eyes, casting an exasperated look at Thiago. "I know you're old, Tio , but Jesucristo , how do you always manage to get injured?!"

"Trust me, Stefanito, I don't like it any more than you do." Thiago poured himself another glass of orange juice, holding Tsimikas' hand from across the table. "Now that Kosti's back from injury, I'll have to spend time without my precious novio ."

" ¡Iros a un hotel !" Nunez called out, rolling his eyes and stuffing the edge of an empanada into his mouth. "It's bad enough that Martin's coming over later, my beautiful eyes don't need to be scarred any more!"

“Darwin, you literally advised Macca to go topless for his first date with Martin." Klopp rolled his eyes, turning to the other side of the table. "Ali, Joey, how are you two feeling today?"

"I'm feeling better, but goodness, am I bored." Gomez groaned, holding up a stack of five Rubik's cubes. "I solved all of these in two hours yesterday, and I even wrote a poem in full-fledged flipping Latin. I'm sick of being stuck in bed all day!"

Alisson's head shot up immediately as he flashed a smile at Klopp. Despite his fever dream earlier, Alisson had woken up with almost as much energy and spirit as he usually had. If anything, he seemed more upbeat than normal, which both surprised and confused Van Dijk.

“Well, I don't feel like a truck’s ran over me, and I'm not dreaming of polka-dancing green grapes anymore. So I guess that's progress. Can Joey and I train today, please?”

Klopp tried and failed to fight the smile creeping up on him. "Yes, but nothing too strenuous, okay you two? Our next game is on Saturday, that's in four days. If you train a little lighter today, you have plenty of time to get back into full training before we travel to London."

Alisson and Gomez grinned at each other, sharing an excited high-five.

"As for the rest of you boys, get ready for training at ten." Klopp glanced at Van Dijk and his nearly-full plate, and his look shifted from pleased to concerned. "Virg, are you alright? You've barely eaten anything today."

Van Dijk stopped pushing a strawberry across a puddle of maple syrup, looking up at Klopp with what he hoped was a positive expression. "I'm fine, boss. Just not that hungry today."

That, at least, was the truth. Van Dijk was usually hungry first thing after waking up, but right now he didn't feel like eating. In fact, he didn't feel like doing anything except laying amorph in his bed. But he wasn't feeling any of the flu symptoms that Alisson and Gomez had felt over the past few days. Instead, it felt like there were a thousand grey bricks preventing him from wanting to get up and go.

"Hm…you don't look physically sick. But you've not talked much, either.” Klopp took his hand off of Van Dijk's forehead and regarded with a thoughtful expression, the one that said 'I know something else is wrong, but I don't know what'. "Why don't you skip training today if you're not feeling well?"

Oh, that sounded good. But taking a day off would worry everybody, including Alisson. And despite the fire and smoke in his head, Van Dijk didn't want to worry anybody. "I don't think I need the rest, boss."

Klopp shook his head firmly, taking Van Dijk's hand and squeezing it gently. "Virgil, something clearly seems to be bothering you today. Training while distracted could lead to a completely avoidable injury, and we don't need that right now. Skip on-grass training today, and if you're feeling better you can do some makeup work in the gym or something, okay?"

Van Dijk didn't respond, instead pushing his plate away and trudging out of the room.

*

Stupid! Good-for-nothing! Hardly even a boy, let alone a man.

Dancing isn't for self-respecting boys who want to be strong men. That stuff is only fit for good-for-nothing idiots who don't care about their pride!

Get off of your lazy bum and start working again! I don't care how many reps you've done, I want to see more from you or you'll never get into the team!

Van Dijk turned the TV volume higher as if that would help block out the memories from his head. After Klopp had excused him from training, he'd tried to watch TV to distract himself. But it hadn't worked, and now he was getting a headache from it.

For a moment, Van Dijk considered giving up on pretending he was okay and letting it out, just like his twelve-year old self had done. But that was twenty years ago with his two-year-old sister in the backyard. This was a training ground full of perceptive adults and teenagers, who would definitely know something was deeply wrong if they found him curled into a ball with his head buried in a pillow.

"Virg!" The door creaked open, and Alisson nearly flew through it. His cheeks were flushed and red, but they were flushed from training instead of the feverish way they'd been since Friday. "There you are, I've been looking all over for you. Are you feeling better?"

"Looks like you had fun training." Van Dijk hurriedly lowered the TV volume and cleared his throat, trying to appear normal. Judging by the way his eyes sparkled, Alisson had enjoyed being able to train with the others for the first time in four days. He certainly did not need to know how close he’d been to a full mental breakdown. "Did anything crazy happen?”

"Besides Harvey getting his hands on a magic wand that could shoot fireballs, Domi sneaking palinka into Adri's water bottle, and finding out about the coaches' secret five-a-side football team that plays against the medics' five-a-side team? Absolutely nothing at all." Alisson chuckled, flopping down on the couch next to Van Dijk. "But I still didn't have as much fun as I thought I would."

Van Dijk raised an eyebrow at that. If he'd been in the mood for having fun, that training session would've been the epitome of fun. "Why?"

"Because I missed you," Alisson said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. He reached for Van Dijk's hand, but Van Dijk pulled it away. "I was worried about you, caramelinho . Are you sure you're okay here by yourself?"

Thinking back on it days later, Van Dijk would curse himself for being so rash and illogical. But this was not days later. This was now, and the dam that had held everything back for half the day was at the point where it couldn't stand one more drop. And one more drop had been added.

He snapped.

"You and your stupid, stupid need to have someone in your life all the time! Have you ever considered how some of us survived? Some of us went without that love, and yet you had your father for all but two years and you...you act like I don't know how you feel. Losing your dad that loved you from the beginning to the end is one thing, but my dad walked out when I was eleven. I was a flipping kid , Jenni doesn't even remember him because she was a baby at the time! He left me, he didn't want me, and you were wanted every moment of your life, and you still act like I don't know! I know! Your friends are my friends, the boss is our boss! The only one that was mine is my father, and he's gone, you...you..."

"Docinho, você está—”

"Goddamn it, Alisson, why?! Why are you so lucky, why did he leave me? What's…why couldn't he love me?"

The fog cleared, the dam broke, and the dark, aching pit deep inside of him grew into a seemingly bottomless chasm. Guilt's claws scratched at him, ripping open half-healed scars that, for a long time, had concealed themselves under the makeup of silence.

He shouldn't be like this, Van Dijk thought, buried in familiar, warm arms as a telltale warmth made its way down his cheeks. He'd been okay for years. Why couldn't he just be okay?

Van Dijk felt his weight shift to his spine and hips, and he opened his eyes. He was still on the sofa, but now he was laying down. Alisson was right next to him, running his hands through his hair and mumbling under his breath. After a moment or two, Van Dijk recognized the words as a song that he hadn't heard in years. The fire was now embers, but the scars still ached.

" Caramelinho ." The name almost startled Van Dijk, breaking the background noise that had slowly drawing him out of his head. "Please, talk to me. What happened?”

"It's…”

Nothing.

Not nothing.

"I had a dream this morning, too. Of my father."

Alisson gasped softly, pulling Van Dijk closer to him. "No wonder you were so afraid, coitadinho. Você precisa de um abraço, muito abraços --wait, I'm speaking Portuguese again, aren't I?"

Van Dijk nodded mutely, staring down at the carpeting. The only thing that could've made the conversation harder was Alisson speaking an entirely different language that he barely understood.

"I was really attached to my dad when I was a kid. When he and my mom split up, I chose to go with him. But then I realised that I missed my mom, and I missed my siblings, and I decided to go back. Dad never visited us after that, and I always thought that...it was me. Jordan thought it was because of me, too, and we… really didn't get along. I thought my dad was mad at me for abandoning him, and that's why he never showed up again. Eventually Jords decided it wasn't my fault, and he forgave me…”

"But you never forgave yourself."

"I know, I was young. But even now I can't help but wonder if I made the right choice to go with my mom instead of staying with him. Would he have loved me if I stayed with him?"

"Virgil. Listen to me, docinho ." Alisson shook his head so wildly that Van Dijk thought his head would fly off. He hugged Van Dijk tightly like he was a teddy bear. "First of all, you were a child. You didn't deserve to go through any of that at all, no matter who you chose to live with. Secondly, from what you've told me about your father and what he did to you, he wouldn't have treated you any differently if you stayed with him."

Van Dijk breathed a sigh of relief at the words. Oh, how he needed to hear that, even if he wasn't fully convinced. "Even if I was more like him?"

"Even if you were—you know what, scratch that thought. Quite bluntly, your father is absolutely awful for what he did to you and your family. We don't need another one of him around." Alisson finally let go of Van Dijk, cupping his face between his hands and brushing a stray curl away. “I know I speak for the whole team when I say we are more than overjoyed to have our calm, caring, loving Virgil here with us and acting nothing like his idiot of a father."

Van Dijk found a laugh escaping his throat, something he hadn't expected to hear for the rest of the day. "I think you have stronger words than 'idiot' for my father. I expected a swear bomb."

“That’s because he was an idiot for leaving you and your family like that. And I will gladly use multiple swear bombs if I ever have the misfortune of running into him. But Virg, you don't need your dad now. You have a family here, remember?" Alisson suddenly cleared his throat, and Van Dijk realised that the other man was holding back tears. "You can…you can move on now."

Van Dijk didn't know if the lump forming in his throat was out of empathy or from his own mind.

"I know," Van Dijk whispered, reaching up to wipe away a tear from Alisson's cheek. "And you mean a lot to me too. I don't know what I'd do without you, Ali." 

Alisson sniffled, leaning in to rest his head on Van Dijk's shoulder. "Well, we'll never have to find out, caramelinho. Because right now, we're going to go the kitchen to make you something since you haven't eaten all day."

"Hey, you're supposed to be my boyfriend, not a psychic."

"It doesn't take a psychic to notice that your plate was full from breakfast. Come on, Virg.”