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❝Take away the bitterness from my heart❞
He still remembers the bitterness of that day. So thick that it suffocated him, so painful that it oozed. They used to compare it to a scar. “What's one more mark on the body?” they would say. However, this one was so deep and grotesque that it threatened to bleed for the rest of his life, like a reminder close to his chest that he would see years later in the mirror and realize it had never healed.
The stadium fell silent. It was ironic because minutes before the disaster, they had been cheering without caring if they hurt their lungs or vocal cords. They cheered because it was all or nothing, and they lost the battle spectacularly.
“What a humiliation,” he would think when everything had settled in his body. The worst part wasn't the loss. The worst part was being left alone with your mind in the darkness of a room, letting it take control of your thoughts and bombard you with possible tactics and solutions to the horde of problems they faced in that match, knowing that you could never escape those ghosts. The worst part is the “what ifs.”
He didn't know if it was the alpha pheromones exuded by his teammates as a defense mechanism, sour and suffocating, making the atmosphere dense and tumultuous, or if it was his own emotions threatening to drown him, closing his throat and making his eyes sting fiercely.
He ran until he found a secluded, empty corner of El Trébol, unable to bear the plaintive crying that was coming from within him any longer. With trembling hands, he unlocked his phone and dialed the number he had memorized as well as the game plan that was supposed to win them the match.
One ring was enough for his anchor to catch him in the middle of that salty storm.
“I saw everything, Olger, I'm so sorry.”
“I saw your result too. I'm really sorry that happened to you, Nathan,” he lamented, because what would become of an omega who couldn't show empathy for his alpha, despite being rivals in this fatal competition?
However, his words were nothing but the truth, having tasted tart defeat himself. He could empathize with the man who understood his pain.
“To be honest, you were risking much more than just a chance.” And didn't it hurt to be reminded of that? A sob he couldn't silence escaped his bitten lips. “I didn't mean that- I- I'm sorry, love...”
“I need you,” was all he mumbled before breaking down completely.
“I need you too, Olger. I need you more than ever.” He could hear the stifled weep through the communicator, and it broke his heart even more.
“Come with me, you know where to find me. Please,” he pleaded pathetically. He would get down on his knees and beg if it would allow the alpha to appear at his side and comfort him.
“I can't, my love. I tried, but they wouldn't let me.”
That admission stunned him. It was blunt, direct, but no less surprising. Something warm curled in his chest at the thought that his alpha would embark on any adventure, no matter how far-fetched, in order to reach him and alleviate any ailment that beset him. For now, he didn't need a bite on his neck if he could feel Nathan's courageous intentions from a country away.
“Y-You tried?” Escobar planned for his question to be dazzled by the older man's boldness, but he could only muster a broken voice that threatened to crack further.
“Of course, I would try anything for you, Olger. I promise that when we're done with this whole process, I'll come find you the next day, and you won't be able to escape me.”
“I wasn't planning on doing that either,” he sniffed. A new sensation washed over him, something similar to the relief after swallowing the antidote for the worst of ailments. “I'll be waiting for you because I know you'll be there.”
“Always, prince. I don't want to leave you, but they're calling us all. Just hang in there a little longer before we can meet up, okay? You'll see that it will be worth it. Love you, Olger.”
“I love you too, Nathan,” and he hung up.
The stadium felt so big that it made him feel small. So much space, and yet he couldn't breathe.
After the post-game meeting, a somber mood settled over each of them. He had a moment with Quimi to mourn their misfortune together. His family was also saddened to see him so inconsolable and did not hesitate to comfort him, but it was not enough to heal the deep wound in his heart.
He dragged his feet to his room, barely having enough strength to put on his pajamas and arrange a couple of blankets on the bed to make a makeshift nest. A navy-blue fabric glinted among his belongings, and his breath caught when he saw whose sweater it was. He thought about adding it to the nest, but he wanted something closer to feeling Ordaz with him.
Nathan's sweater hung large on his body. His sense of smell detected small specks that smelled like cinnamon and sweet rice. It wasn't his touch or his pheromones, but he found a shred of peace and comfort in that foreign garment when sleep finally overtook him.
╰────────── ♡⁀➷ ──────────╮
Bitterness clings to his system like a disease. A disease that affects an entire country. It hasn't even been a week since the penultimate game, so he can't be blamed for picking at his wound and feeling the fresh pain in it.
However, his connection to his roots, to every cell that runs through the blood he shares with millions of Guatemalans, prevents him from leaving in fear. On the contrary, he faces this latest challenge with his head held high and with the conviction of someone who has given his all, even though they have considered him nothing more than a substitute.
He knows full well that nothing will change. Everything will remain the same. But he cannot abandon the ship that took him in when it was still in one piece and that is destroyed today. No matter how much it sinks, he will persist with the remains of that ship, waiting to reach dry land to rebuild it and set sail again. He understood with greater meaning what it means to be there through thick and thin.
It may seem like a cruel joke of life, a spit in the face of his pain, God testing the limits of his perseverance, but he cannot contain himself as he celebrates what was the second goal of the night for his country, autographed by his boot and earning him his first goal in the Central American qualifiers. He burns deep inside, shining on the outside. And he allows himself to smile for a moment because days ago he would not have believed it possible.
The “what if” wants to attack him again, but he resists. It will have a clear path when he gets home.
They end up winning the game and leave solemnly after this last effort. Nothing has changed, but he prefers to leave with his hands half full rather than have made this last game a humiliating spectacle. They'll have a couple more years, he tries to console himself, and maybe this time will be the charm.
Minutes pass before a song he recognizes vibrates through his phone's speaker, and he answers urgently after just one ring.
“Nathan!” he exclaims by way of greeting.
His boyfriend lets out a small laugh at his excitement. The contrast between the start of this conversation and last Thursday's is disconcerting.
“I saw your goal, tremendous as always. Congratulations, prince. We did terribly, in case it cheers you up.”
“I told you not to call me that, canchito,” he complains. The redness in his cheeks may be due to embarrassment, but he tries to fool himself into thinking it's from running for just over forty-five minutes. “I know you would have stood up to them all by yourself. It's their loss.”
“I don't think so, but thanks for believing in me. I had to come and sort some things out with my club... How are you feeling now?”
He lets out a shaky sigh, but pulls himself together: “Honestly? Not so fine. I know it's not in my power to change the course of things and that there was little I could do, but I swear that first goal felt so good that, for a moment, I was able to forget everything. It was just me celebrating with my teammates without anything else hurting.”
“I could see it. You were jumping around with that beautiful smile of yours... It's a shame that neither of us made it, but you did more than enough with the little they let you do, and I'm so proud of you, Olger. Nothing will change my mind, you hear me?”
“I'm proud of you too, and I hope you never forget that. It's a shame they didn't let you play when you're one of the best they have on the bench... When are you coming, Nathan? I need you a lot.”
A cough is heard over the line: “I was going to tell you when I was in Guatemala, but I see you don't miss a thing. Actually, I'm waiting for my flight to leave. See you tomorrow at ten, prince.”
Olger's heart began to pound like a hammer. Something tightened in his stomach, and he didn't know if it was anticipation or his omega instincts awakening and fluttering at the mention of his alpha's proximity. He had to put the phone away to take a deep breath, afraid that Nathan would hear him and know that he was a mess.
But the excitement was too great, and he couldn't hide it. Not from him, at least.
“Are you really coming? Ay, Nathan, I can't wait to have you with me again, I- umm-”, he remembered how to breathe like a normal person, “I've just missed you so much that all this feels so intense.”
“You don't know how much I long to curl up in your bed and bury my face in your neck. I miss your smell of chocolate and spices so much that it's a miracle I haven't gone crazy from withdrawal. God, I'm even salivating now, Olgeeer.”
“Ay, behave yourself, Nathan,” the younger man scolded him, accepting this time that the Salvadoran's words and deep voice made him shiver from head to toe and left his face painted red. “You just have to hold on a little longer and tomorrow I'll be all yours.”
“That sounds pretty good. I'll take you to lunch at a nice place, and then I won't let you leave your room until neither of us remembers these terrible playoffs.” A cheerful laugh escapes him at the proposal, but a flutter vibrates throughout his body because he knows it's a promise and Ordaz will keep it to the letter.
“I won't let you forget, Chelito.”
“You know I won't forget.”
The call is interrupted by Quimi, who comes to meet him and tells him that they must return to the locker room for the last post-match meeting with the team. He nods and lets him leave to say goodbye to the forward.
“They're waiting for me. So, will I see you tomorrow?”
“Without fail, my love. I'll be there. Love you.”
“I love you too, Nathan.”
And he hangs up. However, this time there is no pressure tightening his throat or a weight threatening to tear the flesh from his heart. There is only hope. A pristine and pure hope that makes him feel that everything will be alright.
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He wakes up early the next morning, impatient for his boyfriend to land in Guatemala. He can't eat much, as his nerves have tied his stomach in knots. He arrives at La Aurora airport an hour early, eager to see the brown hair that signals the arrival of his beloved. He tries to keep up appearances, but it's impossible when he feels his omega celebrating inside his system and his own emotions surfacing as they did on the first day.
But it's all worth it, absolutely, when he sees the tall, imposing figure of a foreigner who is more than a permanent resident in his heart, with luggage in hand and a loving smile waiting for him.
It's worth it when he runs towards the Salvadoran with everything around him ceasing to exist and, for a moment that feels like an eternity, it's just the two of them. With the taller man's arms wrapped around his back and the boy himself hiding his face in his shoulder, they bathe each other in the wave of pheromones that seek to conquer every inch of the other, reclaiming what has always been theirs.
It's worth it when Olger and Nathan are reunited and bitterness is replaced by relief. By love.