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It's no secret to the club that, despite being shy in public, Alisson likes to be touched. Klopp was the first to realize this, when he hugged the goalkeeper in his first game and told him that one day, the number one shirt would be his. The point is that Alisson likes to feel loved by people. The Brazilian feels good if people demonstrate in their various ways that he did a good job.
Virgil has his special way of making Alisson feel cherished. It was before they even started dating. It was at the team's New Year's party. Everyone was pampering and thanking the new signings of that season for the good journey so far, even with some mistakes and discrepancies. And Alisson was sitting alone in a corner, waiting for Bobby and Fabinho, his most common companions, to return from getting more drinks.
"Hey." Virgil says, taking the empty stool on Alisson's right side and flashing his pearly smile at him.
"Virg." Alisson gives a soft nod, the grip he has on his beer bottle tightening for a brief moment.
"Whoa, calm down, big guy. I don't bite." Virgil realizes that his unannounced entry startled the Brazilian.
"I never said you bite." Alisson opens a silly little smile, which doesn't reach his eyes.
Alisson watches Virgil out of the corner of his eye as he takes a sip of his half-finished beer. Alisson feels a little pressured by the presence of the defender, who was already one of the team's favorites, right next to him, as if he was interested in talking. Of course, they were friends, but friends in work environments or for promotional videos. The goalkeeper's eyes scan the half-dark room, looking unsuccessfully for his teammates.
"You know, why are you here in the corner when all the newbies are with the skipper?" Virgil asks, nudging Alisson's shoulder with his own.
"I don't know." Alisson shrugs and snorts, eyebrows furrowed. His tongue is starting to curl up while he talks.
"Don't you know, or don't you want to?"
"I don't know." Alisson sighs, his mind is becoming dull from the beer. He bends down enough to place the almost empty bottle on the floor. "I don't like being spoiled."
"You're a terrible liar." Virgil chuckles, scratching the hairs on his goatee. "You blush when you lie."
Alisson rolls his eyes. "You're too smart for your own good, Virgil."
And then, before Alisson can say anything else, Virgil's full lips are being pressed against his temple in a long, gentle kiss. Alisson almost thinks he's dreaming, because the pressure of Virgil's lips is so gentle that it doesn't seem to exist. But he knows it's real. It's real because Virgil's hand comes up to squeeze his arm.
"I like you, Ali. You're a good man." And with that, Virgil stands up and walks away, as if he hadn't just kissed Alisson on the forehead in the middle of the other players. Alisson opens his eyes wide and plays with his fingers, not really knowing what to do.
Bobby and Fabinho return a few minutes after that, carrying three glasses of caipirinhas. But Alisson has a headache from the noise and refuses the glass when Fabinho hands it to him. The two Brazilians look at each other suspiciously before Bobby puts his free hand on Alisson's shoulder.
"Dude, are you okay?" He asks in Portuguese, sounding drunker than Alisson himself. "You always drink more than one beer, I saw it at the National Team party."
"I just... I don't want to drink, I'm already tired." Alisson says, looking at Bobby as if this will prove his point.
Fabinho, the most sober of the three, sighs. "I'll take you home."
When Alisson finally falls onto the mattress of his bed, wrapped in blankets, while fireworks perform outside, he begins to internally wonder why his heart started beating wildly at a simple kiss on his forehead.
Since that day, it is as if a lock has been unlocked between the two men. Now, it was as if Alisson was always hovering around Virgil, as if seeking silent approval when he made some really great save, his blue eyes constantly searching for that smile, the pat on the shoulder, the brush of hands, no matter how much the gloves would get in the way.
"He won't play!" Alisson, walking through the corridors of AXA, three years after this event that changed everything between the two, hears Virgil say.
"Virgil, I know you value your boyfriend, but Kelleher and Adrián are in no condition to play."
"He's fucking grieving!" Virgil's voice sounds almost choked and Alisson is startled by so much vulnerability. He gets close enough to not be seen and pretends to use his cell phone. "He lost his father, he can't play!"
“Ali gave us the green light to come back in the game against West Bromwich.” Pep says and appears to slam his hands on the table. "Without you in our defense due to your injury, there's not much we can do. We just won the league and we're going through a period of drought."
"Look, Pep, I would argue with you more for his well-being, but if he was the one who said he was ready, there's nothing I can do."
Virgil leaves the room, using crutches for support, and Alisson's heart aches for the injured Dutchman. Acting as if he hadn't heard the conversation between the two men, Alisson walks until he reaches Virgil, placing an open hand on the back of his head.
"Do you need any help?"
"What?" Virgil notices Alisson and his eyes soften. "No. I'm fine. I can go alone."
They walk silently to Virgil's car, which was used to bring the two men to the AXA. So that was the reason for Virgil's desire to go to the training center. He wanted to speak to Pep about Alisson's return to action after his father's recent death. The thought makes Alisson's throat form a lump. Virgil notices this and, leaning against the car, pulls Alisson close, touching their foreheads together and taking a deep breath.
"Are you sure you want to play?" He murmurs, stroking Alisson's chin with a finger. It's so tender that it almost makes Alisson weak in the knees. "You can stay home with me."
"I..." Alisson looks away for a few seconds. "I want it. The boys need me. I need to prove that I'm not weak for a bad game against City."
"Who said you are weak?" Virgil growls softly and one of his arms pulls Alisson closer. There is no one watching them. Everything is fine. "You are not weak because you are in pain."
"I know. But I will. I can do it." Alisson presses his lips against Virgil's chin as he allows himself to carefully fall forward.
On game day, Alisson feels calm in his veins, despite having conceded a goal that he knew he could save. But he kept trying, proving himself to everyone again with a save that saved them from letting the other team go 2-1 up.
And then, the corner. Bobby whistling for him to come to the opposing team's area. Alisson swallows hard as he stands behind Mo. Everything is in slow motion. He jumps and watches himself head the ball into the net, as if he were watching himself from another plane. And then everything explodes. Screams from all sides and he's being hugged by his friends, Bobby is touching his forehead and telling him how amazing he is, and Alisson is crying and... And he scored a goal. He helped his team. He did it for his father. For Virgil. For everyone.
When he arrives at the locker room, wet from rain and tears, Virgil is waiting for him at the entrance. He looks in pain, leaning on his crutches as if they were extensions of his legs and he clearly cried after the goal. They come face to face and then Alisson has a kiss pressed against his forehead. Words are not necessary. He knows he did a good job. And then he kisses Virgil back, allowing himself to cry just a little more.
And so, Alisson is sitting in the visitors' dressing room at Old Trafford. He watches his friends bathe and change after Klopp's frustrated speech about how they could have done better. Alisson plays with the cap in his hands. He wanted to be there, to help, to at least stop Manchester United from scoring the equalizer. To make his team proud.
Virgil takes the space next to him. Alisson grabs his hand tightly and squeezes. He knows that the defender needs this, he needs something to vent his frustrations, to get angry, to let it all out and he is there to hold him back if that is necessary. What surprises him is being pulled in that familiar way that makes his stomach hurt with butterflies, their foreheads being pressed together and a kiss being placed firmly on his nose.
"Please come back soon."
"I promise." Alisson closes his eyes and lets himself be hugged against a solid chest. "I'll come back for you."