Chapter Text
Michael knows he's an awkward person.
It's not like it's a new thing. He's always done it; forgotten things, misunderstood interactions, failed to interpret people. I thought you had invited me; I thought we were friends. I thought they were laughing with me.
He's gotten quite used to it. That's to say, he learned to say as little as possible, to reduce the chances of saying something awkward and stupid. It doesn't always work. That's to say, it pretty much never does.
It's like his own brain is determined to betray him; he opens his mouth, and all of the things he planned to say disappear from his mind. So, he ends up being awkward. He ends up being st-
"...Bro?" Jamal's voice slices his thoughts in half.
Fuck. Michael got so lost in his thoughts, he ended up forgetting he was currently talking to Jamal. He hated when this happened. He hated how he was always proving his own theories correct. He was, had always been, and would always be, incredibly awkward.
"Uh, I-" He couldn't even manage to properly apologise to Jamal for his unattentiveness. "Sorry, I-"
"Spaced out, huh?" Jamal asked. There was a sparkle in his eyes that showed he was finding this funny, but he didn't seem mad about it. Michael felt a bit relieved.
Michael had always felt that Jamal understood his awkwardness. It was probably because Jamal himself was also a bit awkward, albeit in a different way.
Sure, Jamal is one of the clumsiest people he's ever met. He's definitely earned the nickname Bambi, that's for sure, constantly running into things and tripping, with his long arms and legs.
But that awkwardness somehow becomes a sort of... charm. Jamal's clumsy way of moving has never stopped him from being one of the most charming football players Michael has ever known, for example.
Whereas, in Michael's case, the awkwardness didn't translate into anything other than pure awkwardness.
This difference between him and Jamal was one of the things he'd first picked up when they became friends; and one of the things that made him think that the weird thing he felt for the other was just jealousy.
Right, there was that, too. He had almost forgotten to mention that.
He didn't know how he had managed to forget it. After all, the crush he had on Jamal had been one of the biggest things on his mind for months now.
He called it a crush, because that's what it was. Not jealousy, not rivalry, not a platonic friendship. It was a crush.
Of course, Michael always had to complicate things for himself; it didn't matter how difficult things already were, he'd find a way to make them even more difficult.
He had a crush on one of his teammates. That was disastrous. Not just because Jamal was probably straight. Not just because they were teammates. Not just because it was surely a contract violation.
But because Jamal was his friend. His best friend in Bayern, and one of his closest in his life, too.
Was he really going to risk everything for this dumb love? Was he really that stupid?
The answer to both of these questions had been no so far, thankfully.
As Michael kept thinking, Jamal kept talking. This time, though, he remembered to actually listen to what the other was saying; Jamal was talking about his last international duty, sharing some anecdotes and stories from this time.
Michael barely spoke, but Jamal didn't seem to mind it; they usually were like this when they were together. He seemed to bring out a more extroverted side of Jamal.
Maybe because I'm so silent, that he has no choice but to speak up. As soon as that thought entered his mind, Michael felt uneasy; he hoped he wasn't making Jamal uncomfortable, by forcing him to be the more talkative one in the conversation.
A quick look at Jamal showed that the boy seemed quite happy with the state of things, but deep down Michael still felt awkward about it.
*
Michael had thought he was alone in noticing the crush he had on Jamal. It made him feel safe, although a bit lonely.
But he came to realise he'd misread things. What a shocker.
They were walking towards the training centre, when Jamal stopped dead in his tracks. Michael barely avoided crashing into him. Jamal turned around, eyes wide.
"My phone!" He exclaimed, patting the pockets on his jacket and jeans.
"You, uh..." come on Michael, it's just a simple phrase, you can say it, "maybe it's in the bus?" Good.
"I think so." Jamal answered, looking back at the bus. "Shit."
Jamal started to make his way towards it, but before he could leave, Michael grabbed his wrist.
Michael was quiet now, too shocked by his own courage to produce any more.
"Jam, you..." He eventually found his voice, "leave your bag with me." He managed to continue.
Jamal blinked slowly for a second, mouth agape, but then quickly sprung into action - pulling away from Michael's grip - and handing him his bag. He seemed a bit flushed, and Michael worried he had, yet again, been awkward.
Michael observed Jamal as he ran towards the team bus. Suddenly, a nudge on his shoulder scared him. Thomas Müller, in all of his might and glory, was staring right at him. As their gazes met, the german simply wiggled his eyebrows, his perpetual smile growing even bigger for a second.
"L'Amour." Thomas sighed dramatically, his accent not quite right but good enough for comprehension.
Michael felt his brain shut down. Fuck. Panicked, he turned around quickly, and headed inside the training centre.
As he mechanically made his way inside, he felt his face heat up more and more, his hands trembling inside his coat's pockets. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Thomas was just joking, right? He had to be joking. He wasn't serious. He couldn't be. He wasn't. He wasn't, right? Right?
Michael ran his sweaty hands on his clothes, desperate to keep a sense of dignity. God, this was about to be a terrible training session.
*
For the rest of the day, Michael avoided Thomas like the plague. He could tell that the German tried many times to catch his attention, but he ignored it as long as he could.
Until he couldn't.
As Michael was just about to get into the hotel bar - Jamal had finally convinced him to tag along - Thomas appeared between him and the door.
Regular Thomas was already quite intimidating for Michael, but a non smiling Thomas!? He thought he was going to puke all over both of them.
"Michael..." Thomas began, voice slow as if he was considering what to say. After some agonising seconds, he found his words. "It is all right. You know that, don't you?"
Michael didn't answer, partially because his mouth was too dry to allow any words. But even if he could speak, he had no idea what to answer to that. Was it all right? What was it? Was it the same it Michael was thinking? Did he know it? Did he know anything?
Just as Michael felt himself spiralling further and further, a noise caught his attention. It was Jamal's laughter, coming over from inside the bar. Even though the sound was muffled, it still brought Michael some peace. It was the type of laughter Jamal only did when he was really caught by surprise by a joke or comment. It was a rare laughter, one that always made Michael's heart flutter.
Thomas shifted his eyes towards the origin of the laughter, and then back to Michael. The German put one of his hands on his shoulder, squeezing it softly.
"You'll get there eventually." Thomas said, eyes warm.
"You really think so?" Michael asked before he was able to stop himself.
Thomas' smile was genuine, no trace of a joke found in his expression now. "Yes. Now come on, he's gonna want to tell you what's making him laugh."