Work Text:
Fabinho sat perched upon a swing in the garden, letting the swaying rhythm carry his body. If this situation was the five stages of grief, he was somewhere between shock and depression.
He unfolded a yellowing piece of paper, careful not to harm the aging artifact. There were three signatures in the colors of the Brazilian flag, stylized to fill the outline of the flag.
Alisson’s signature filled up the green part, and Firmino’s came immediately after in yellow. Fabinho had the blue globe in the middle, speckled with stars and a white sash. The white sash had a yellow outline, and the motto “Ordem e Progresso” was written in green. It only further proved how much Alisson and Firmino were a part of him.
Now their flag would only be blue, white and green. Everybody who knew the Brazilian flag knew that it just couldn’t be the Brazilian flag without yellow. Yellow needed to be there, it had to; otherwise there would be no order or progress. He clutched the drawing to his chest and hugged it tight, allowing the emotions of the time of creation to resurface.
A brisk, cold wind nearly blew the drawing out of his hands. Curse the March winds—wait a minute!
It was still March, and Firmino’s contract ended in July. They would have nearly four months of time to spend with Firmino until he left—one-third of a year. It would be up to them to spend as much time with Firmino as they could, and spend that time wisely.
Fabinho lovingly folded the picture and placed it in his pocket, jumping off the swing. There would be plenty of time to mope later on—but not now. For now, Liverpool had an important game to play. It was up to them to make Firmino’s last games for Liverpool the best they could.