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Summary
Alexis released a long, heavy breath. Despite everything, nothing came close to Michael and his magic, nothing compared to the ecstasy of witnessing Michael handle the ball. Alexis hated being an observer. He hated the distance, the warmth and coziness of his apartment. He missed the feeling of his feet digging into the grass and colliding with the ball to pass to Michael. He missed the wind tangling his hair and Michael's hand atop his head, fingers intertwined between the tangles, his soft locks attempting to trap Michael just as much as Michael tried to hold on to Alexis.
He knew he was selfish. Alexis never had anything of his own in life except for magic, and Michael was a beautiful and raw manifestation of that magic. The shame burned hot and heavy.
— OR : With Michael now in Madrid, playing for Re Al, Alexis finds comfort in watching all of Michael's games. Yet perhaps watching Michael play gave him almost too much pleasure.