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It was Monday, and Kostas Tsimikas felt miserable.
His misery, a rare guest within the Liverpool team dynamics, could've been chalked up to various reasons. They were playing Villa in what would be Klopp's final away game with them, and the emotions had been rampant as the whole team boarded the bus, complete with all the injured players, staff and children. Nobody wanted to miss out on Klopp's penultimate match as manager. Everybody old enough to understand the significance of this away trip—which meant everybody except Aya, who'd turned a year old three days before his birthday—was upset about the whole occasion, Tsimikas included.
Klopp's impending departure wasn't the sole reason for his emotional state, though. No; the reason was contained in one warm, talented, yet injury-prone Hispano-Brazilian, who'd joined the team on the away bus for only the third time that season.
Thiago Alcantara. The love of his life, the Helen to his Paris, the Stein to his Toklas. The two had been dating for almost a full year and had known each other for nearly four years, but the day before, Thiago had pulled Tsimikas aside for a chat after the party.
To Thiago's credit, he'd tried to break the news to Tsimikas gently. The problem was that when it came to the love of his life, Tsimikas' heart was made of thinly-blown, red-tinted glass.
"You're leaving."
"I'm sorry, mi amor , but I'm always injured, and when I'm not injured, I'm so out of rhythm that I can't make the starting eleven or even the bench. I have to go."
"But Stefi and I need you here! Right, Stefi?"
Bajcetic nodded as he gave Thiago the baby eyes. "Please stay, Tio ! I'll even pump irons in the gym so you can be proud of me!"
Thiago smiled sadly, ruffling Bajcetic's hair. Even though Bajcetic was taller than Thiago and Tsimikas, the teenager often defaulted to acting like a child around the ones he considered his work parents. "I'm not leaving because of you, Stefi. Remember when Bobby left last season so the new strikers could have more chances?"
Bajcetic nodded limply. "Yeah, but Bobby's old."
Tsimikas laughed, but it was barely even a laugh. His heart had just been laid on the floor and smashed to pieces, after all.
"I'm older than Bobby, mijito , and more injury-prone. If I leave, we could buy a better midfielder and win the league next year."
"But I need you!" Bajcetic exclaimed in distress. "Tio Kostas needs you, you can't go!"
"The kid is speaking factos!" Tsimikas joked for Bajcetic's sake only.
Thiago sighed, the gravity of the situation evident in the lines on his face. "My contract is running out. If the boss was going to be here next season I'd try to negotiate, but I don't know how this new boss would react to a thirty-three-year-old piece of deadwood hogging bench space."
"Don't talk about yourself like that, Tio!" Bajcetic grabbed Thiago's arm, gazing at him like a sad child. "You're useful, you've played more minutes than Adrian this season and nobody ever calls him un-useful!"
"The word's useless, Stefanito." Thiago took Bajcetic's hand and patted it in reassurance, chuckling softly when the teenager released a loud yawn. " Hora de ir a la cama, hijo . Maybe we can talk tomorrow, but I need to talk with your other Tio for now."
" Bueno ." Bajcetic yawned again as Thiago steered him out of the room. " Buenas noches, Tio Kostas. Duerme bien ."
" Duerme bien ." The practised exchange rolled off Tsimikas' tongue easily, despite the fact that Spanish was not one of his native languages.
As soon as Thiago and Bajcetic had left the room, the prickling behind Tsimikas' eyes grew into a wildfire. He fell onto his and Thiago's shared bed, sobbing into Nana the catfish plushie.
Now, on the bus, Thiago was next to Bajcetic, who'd refused to be separated from his work-dad. With all the passengers on the bus for the two hour drive to Birmingham, Tsimikas had ended up sitting far from Thiago, but close enough to see him talking to Bajcetic excitedly about something. Probably one of the games he'd played, back before he became the overlord of injuries.
Goodness. This would be his last away game with Thiago. The thought of it made him burst into fresh tears, leaning against the window to try and distract himself.
"Kosti?" A familiar hand, firm from years of daily use on the pitch yet gentle by nature, found its way into his hair, ruffling it in a way that could only be described as comforting. Tsimikas didn't need to open his eyes to identify who the hand belonged to. "What's wrong?"
"S-sorry." Tsimikas roughly wiped his eyes before facing Alisson. The keeper was one of the more emotional players on the squad, and Tsimikas didn't want to take Alisson off his game for tomorrow. "I was just...thinking about things."
One look was all Tsimikas needed to know that Alisson wasn't satisfied with that answer. "I've not seen you this upset since Bobby's last home game."
"Not like you're one to talk," Tsimikas joked. It was his way of diluting the pain, and usually it worked. But it hadn't worked today. "You were in denial for days after Bobby announced he was leaving, even though the rumours were there before."
Instead of arguing, Alisson pulled Tsimikas into a hug, holding the Greek close to him like a small child. "This is about Thi, isn't it?"
“I know he’s going to leave, and I-I know it’s been coming. But I love him. I want to spend my life with him, but if he leaves, who knows where he’d go? W-what if he finds somebody else, someone more elegant and talented and loveable than me?”
“Oh, Kosti. Kostas, he won’t do that.” Alisson pulled back from the hug so that he and Tsimikas were face-to-face. “Have you ever stepped back and realised just how crazy Thi is for you? Sure, you two are different, but your love is powerful, immune to everything. Injury, elimination, long distances, even the ownership group’s wallet. I would do anything for a love like that.”
“But he’ll still be gone. My boyfriend, my Thiago, will be somewhere else, and I won’t be able to see him or talk with him every day. I won’t be able to hug him from behind while he cooks, or kiss him as the pastry dough rises, or go into bed and—”
“Too much information, I think we can stop there!” Alisson blushed a fiery beetroot red, but his face was still serious. “I wish I could do something to make you happy again, Kostas, I really do. But…I don’t think I can fix this.”
Tsimikas sighed, the melancholy returning. By no means was Alisson the team expert on fixing anything, but he always tried to fix everything he could, even if it was impossible. For him to give up so easily without even trying was a sign that there was nothing anybody could do.
Thiago was leaving, and for the first time since knowing him, Tsimikas was lost.
*
“What if he hates me?! What if this is too sudden? What if I’ve made the worst decision of my life and he breaks up with me anyways, and—”
“Shut up, chico ! Overthinking is Ali’s job.” Adrian playfully punched Thiago in the elbow, then pulled him aside. The hotel wasn’t exactly bustling after their 3-3 draw with Villa, but there were still a few people wandering about in search of their rooms. “Look, Thiago, Kostas is so deeply in love with you that, if you were craving saffron, he’d pick and dry saffron crocus threads by hand so you would have it.”
“We all know my crazy boy would do that.” Thiago’s smile fell as he gazed up at Adrian’s kind, blue-grey eyes. “I can’t believe you’re leaving, too. Who’s going to cheer Ali and Kweev up with the lame as fork jokes now? No offence, but both of them can get a little serious without you.”
“I’m going to miss you too, Thi, but the time’s right for me to leave. The team needs to rebuild, and that means having new leaders and new dynamics.” Adrian closed his eyes and cleared his throat, resting a warm, calloused hand on Thiago’s shoulder. “That includes you making your boyfriend into your fiance. Get moving, Romeo!”
“As if I needed any more motivation.” Thiago set off towards Tsimikas’ room, slipping his hand in the pocket of his pyjama pants. He smiled as his fingers brushed against the now-familiar shape of a velvet box, containing the piece of jewellery that would seal the deal between them. “See you soon, Adri.”
“See you soon. And Thi?”
“Yeah?”
Adrian opened his eyes, which shone in the dim hotel light. Thiago wasn’t sure if it was pride or tears, though knowing Adrian, it could be both. “When you two get married, mail your old man Adri an invitation, alright?”
Thiago scoffed, though his smirk betrayed that he was only joking. “An invitation? You’ll be my best man, Adrian. Plus, we all know that the boss is going to be the old man.”
*
“ Mi amor.” Thiago opened the door to his and Tsimikas’ shared hotel room. “Can we talk? I promise, it’s nothing bad.”
Tsimikas rolled over to face the wall, rubbing at his eyes. Thiago knew without looking that they were red. “Not now, give me some time to be heartbroken.”
“Kosti. I know you’re upset, but…please, listen to me.” Thiago resisted the urge to drop down onto his knees right away. “I might be leaving, but our love will never change. You’re everything to me.”
“How do I know?”
“Look.”
Tsimikas sighed, rolling over again and propping himself up on one arm. He didn’t open his eyes until he was done moving, but when he did, his eyes filled with tears all over again.
A gold and emerald ring, nestled in a blue and white box, sparkled in the light filtering through the window, casting faint spots of life throughout the hotel room.
“ Mi querido loco, the day I met you was a day of the unexpected. I never expected us to meet, let alone play in the same league for the same club, but we did. We became friends and fell in love, we’ve gotten to know each other throughout our highest highs and our lowest lows. I know it’s not been long since we went on our first date, but I also know there is nobody I’d rather spend my life with. Konstantinos Tsimikas, will you make me the happiest man in the treatment room and marry me?”
For a moment, Tsimikas was speechless, and Thiago thought that he’d ruined it. It was over; Tsimikas wanted nothing to do with him. He was probably still mad at him for leaving, broken over all the recent change.
Then he heard it. The sweet, golden, yet watery ambrosia that was his lover’s voice.
“Yes. In a thousand and one nights, on sixty-eight planets and every possible lifetime, yes.”