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"Should we knock?"
John turns his head to Ruben, who's hand is curled in a fist, about to hit the door.
He shakes his head, reaching into his pocket and reaching around.
"He gave me a key," John said, "in case there was an emergency and he wasn't home for some reason."
"Ahh," Ruben replied, lowering his hand. John fumbled around, fingers dodging his phone and own keychain as he finally pulled out a lone key on a silver hoop, a small Argentina charm hanging off it.
"Cute," Ruben noted, and John nudged him.
Slowly inserting the key into the door, the two of them whisper-cheered as the lock clicked open. The house was dark when John pulled the door open, the only hint that a person had been around being the abandoned gourd of mate on the dining room table.
"Is he home?" Ruben asked, looking around wearily. John flicked on the closest light switch, the rest of the living room finally visible.
"Enzo told Mac Allister who told Trent who told Phil who told me and Pep that Julian hadn't been replying to his messages or calls." John said, walking around the house. "Apparently, Enzo wants someone to check up on him."
"But it's an off-day," Ruben tried to reason. "We normally don't hear from him on off-days. Are you sure he won't just show up tomorrow at training like normal?"
"It's still good to check," John replied. "Like, Enzo and Juli have been friends for ages I guess, maybe he knows something we don't."
"That's true."
"Have you checked his bedroom?" John asked, pointing to a room at the end of the hallway. The door was shut, but a sliver of light peeked out from under the door.
The two of them looked at each other, before making their way to the door. It opened without issue, and they stepped inside. The lamp on the bedside table was on, but there was no sign of Julián.
John looked around the room, wandering until he stopped at the makeup table. Amongst the perfumes and jewellery boxes were framed photos. Julián looked significantly younger in them, his acne still prominent, his hair slightly shorter.
Emilia was in all of them, one from the World Cup, one from the Copa America. John assumed that the one on the far left from some trophy Julián won at River Plate, but he couldn't be totally sure.
John recalled overhearing Julián tell Erling that Emilia had gone back to Cordoba for a holiday, and he assumed that she hadn’t come back yet.
"John!" Ruben whisper-shouted, pulling the Brit out of his head. John whipped around to find Ruben standing in front of the walk in wardrobe, hand hovering over the doorknob. John nodded at him, and Ruben twisted the door open.
Before the Portuguese man had the chance to peer inside, he was pushed aside by John, who ran into the closet.
"Hey!" John shouted, kneeling down next to Julián’s slumped over form. "Juli, no, stop!"
Ruben, who was standing behind him, could only watch in horror, a hand clamped over his mouth as John pulled Julián‘s own hands away from his neck, a terrible wheezing filling the room.
Julián coughed and spluttered, curling into himself as John gently held him, tears (from sadness or lack of oxygen, John didn't know) streamed down his cheeks, and his hands were crossed over his stomach, almost as if he was squeezing himself.
Ruben quietly knelt in front of him, forcing Julián’s hands into his own and holding them.
"It's okay Juli, just breathe querido, you'll be okay, just breathe for us."
"No," Julian sobbed. "No puedo, no puedo, déjame ir, por favor, por favor, tienes que dejarme ir!”
John looked at Ruben, lost, and Ruben simply brought one of Julián‘s hands to his chest, a finger running over his knuckles.
"Shhh, just follow my breaths," he whispered kindly. "You can do it, solo sigue mi respiración."
They sat in silence, bar the heart-breaking wheezes that Julián choked out every few seconds, and John almost sighed in relief as Julián’s breath evened out and he fell limply into his arms.
"We need to get out of this closet, dear," John said gently into his ear. "Is it okay if I carry you?"
Julián hesitated, before nodding, his movements so minimal that John nearly missed them.
Bracing himself, John stood up, Julián curled up into his chest as he carried the Argentinian out of the closet and over to his bed. He heard Ruben closing the door behind them as he settled the youngest onto the blanket, moving to kneel in front of him.
John had to bite back an ugly sob as he saw the deep, purple marks on Julián‘s neck, no doubt self-inflicted.
"Juli," he began, "we need to take you to the hospital. This doesn't look good at all."
Julián stiffened, shaking his head. "No hospital, I can't, please John, no hospital."
Hearing how Julián was beginning to hyperventilate, Ruben nudged John to the side, taking over his position.
"It's okay, no hospital meu amor, but we need to do something about these bruises." Ruben said sweetly, cupping Julián‘s face and brushing a stray tear away.
Julián weakly pointed to the bedside table. "There's a cream in there, the doctor gave it to me. Emilia me lo da cuando me pongo muy malo."
Ruben nodded, side eyeing John, who opened the first drawer, pulling out a jar of cream. He twisted the cap of the jar, dipping his long fingers into its contents, before bringing them to Julián‘s neck.
The Argentinian flinched away, fear evident in his eyes.
"It's okay, we just need to make sure that you're okay," John reasoned with him, and Julián nodded unsurely. The Brit gently grazed his fingers of the bruised skin, and Julián whimpered, biting his lip as John spread the cream around.
"It's okay, you're doing so well," Ruben muttered, a hand running through Julián’s hair.
Once he was done, John wiped the residue on his shorts, closing and returning the jar of cream to the drawer. He stood up after, sitting next to Julian on the bed and rubbing the younger man's back.
"We were really worried about you, Juli," John started, trying not to focus his eyes on his teammate's neck. "Enzo asked us to check up on you."
"Enzo?" Julián almost whispered, his hands clenching and unclenching.
"Yeah," Ruben responded, "he was concerned, said you hadn't been responding to him."
Julián whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes again, and John held him closer. "I didn't mean to worry you," he mumbled.
"Does Emilia know?" He asked tearfully, looking into Ruben's eyes. "Not yet, but we have to tell her."
Julián nodded, tears silently spilling down onto his pale cheeks. John sighed, kissing the top of his head. "You don't have to tell us why, Juli, but we need to make sure that you won't do it again if we leave you alone."
Julián‘s fists were clenched uncomfortably, and he avoided both of their gazes.
"I..." he began, "I can't stay here alone. I need her to come back."
"Tengo miedo de lo que haré si me dejan aquí sola otra vez," he whispered, and Ruben shook his head.
"We won't leave you alone," he promised. "You can stay with me until Emilia gets back, and then you can come back, does that sound good?"
Julián nodded for what seemed like the millionth time that evening, the lump in his throat stopping him from speaking.
"We'll help you pack," John said, pulling away from the Argentinian. "Then at Ruben's house, you can call Enzo and Emilia to let them know you're okay."
"But training..." Julián trailed off. "You don't need to worry about that," John replied. "I'll talk to Pep, he'll understand the situation."
The three of them stood up, Ruben supporting Julian as the younger man shook, and began to pack.
-
[trentaa] macca says thank you for helping out
[you] tell him its no problem. we wanted to help him out anyways.
[trentaa] lol i think you stopped the argentinians from rioting, swear this guy was about to drive to manchester himself
[trentaa] is alvarez good???
[you] he should be soon, we’re monitoring him until his gf gets back from argentina
[trentaa] ahhhh got it
[trentaa] expect a bouquet of flowers at your door within the next 12 hours, macca says
[you] beautiful