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Livi is sure that no one in the world would want to be in his position right now.
Sure, representing your country in the World Cup is cool and everything, but right now he’s playing against Portugal in the knockout round of the said tournament, and Cristiano Ronaldo is standing in front of him, one on one, ready to do his spot kick.
If he may boast a little, Livi can safely say that his goalkeeping skills aren’t bad. But even the best goalies might shake in their boots upon facing Ronaldo, arguably the best penalty taker in the world. But there’s no way to avoid it now. Ready or not, Portugal has gotten a penalty, and it’s his job to save it.
The ref blows his whistle, Ronaldo steps towards the ball and delivers his shot, Livi dives to the right, the ball slices cleanly to the center and hits the net, and with it something inside the whole Croatia team dies.
-
The door slams behind Livi as the Croatia goalkeeper enters his hotel room, unshed tears stinging his eyes.
They lost the game to Portugal, 2-1. And while the whole team have consoled Livi, saying none of it is his fault, and that they think the game is rigged somehow, none of it truly comforts him. The fact remains that Croatia have been knocked out, and there’s nothing he can do about it.
Sitting on the cold floor, he closes his eyes, replaying certain moments from the game. Ivan’s goal which has given them so much hope. The penalty. Portugal’s last minute goal. Their own disallowed attempts. But it’s the memory of Kova crying after the final whistle that finally breaks him down, tears streaming down his face. I’m a failure, he thinks bitterly. I should’ve done better, I should’ve been able to help my country further than this…
Suddenly, the sound of a phone ringing pierces the silence of the room, snapping Livi out of his reverie. Without thinking, he grabs that thing, picking up the call without paying attention to who’s calling him at that very moment. “Hello?”
There’s silence on the other end for a few seconds, before the other person finally speaks out in a quiet, tentative voice, “Habibi?”
Livi freezes. “Yassine?”
A deep breath. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Livi’s fingers grasp onto the phone tighter, as if he’s afraid it would fall and break into pieces on the floor. He opens his mouth, wanting to speak again, but his trembling lips make it impossible to utter a word.
Yassine Bounou is the goalkeeper for Al-Hilal and Morocco national team, and an overall nice guy. He and Livi have been dating for almost four years now, starting not long after their third place match in the 2022 World Cup. And while Livi loves Yassine very much and yearns to hear the Moroccan’s voice whenever possible, he also hates to have Yassine catch him in his most vulnerable state.
“Livi,” Yassine whispers, low, unsure. “I…I watched the game.”
Because of course he does. Livi has made a fool out of himself in front of every football fan in the world, so why can’t his boyfriend be one of them too?
“I’m sorry,” Yassine says, suddenly sounding a little embarrassed. “I know you must’ve been devastated, that maybe you need some time alone, but I cannot bear to imagine you like that, I just want to check on you, I…”
A sudden warmth spreads inside Livi’s chest at his boyfriend’s ramble. Owing to their long distance relationship, they have never been overly affectionate to each other, but Yassine has always been like that – sweet, thoughtful, and somehow always knows whenever Livi needs him. And Livi certainly doesn’t want Yassine to feel guilty for wanting to comfort him, so, finding his voice again, he quickly interrupts, “No, dragi, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you. In fact…I’m glad you called me.”
Silence ensues for a few seconds before Yassine hesitantly asks, “So…how do you feel now?”
Livi inhales. He’s been expecting this question, but that doesn’t make it less hard to answer. “Honestly? Like a pathetic loser.”
A sudden snort bursts out of the phone speaker, and Livi wants to laugh because the polite, soft-spoken Yassine rarely lets out a sound like that. “Excuse me?? I can’t let anyone call Dominik Livakovic a pathetic loser, even if it’s he who calls himself that.”
“But I do feel that way,” Livi sighs. Now that the hardest part is over, he can talk more freely to Yassine. “I fucked up. I should’ve done better, my team needed me to be, but now we're out in the round of 32 and it’s all my fault…”
“It’s not,” Yassine firmly states, and something inside Livi stirs. “We’re goalkeepers, habibi. We don’t determine the result of a game, we can only save it. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve done your best. It’s not your fault that your team kept getting offside calls, or the referee literally went against you. You deserved to win the game, and the end result was so unfair for you. But still, you played so well, and I’m proud of you.”
A lump rises inside Livi’s throat, and he quickly blinks back a new wave of tears forming in his eyes. Those words aren’t something he has only heard for the first time. His teammates have told him that, so do his family and Zlatko. But somehow, hearing it from Yassine feels different. Maybe it’s the tone of Yassine’s voice, so warm and genuine that Livi truly believes that the Moroccan really is proud of him. Maybe it’s the realization that as a fellow goalkeeper, Yassine understands him better than anyone else in the team. Or maybe it’s simply because he loves Yassine.
“Thank you,” he tells Yassine afterwards. His voice is still shaky, but he hopes it’s enough to convey his gratitude. “And I’m glad…I’m glad that you feel like that towards me. You don’t have to do this, but I…I appreciate that, dragi. I really do.”
“Well, it was nothing,” Yassine replies, sounding a little embarrassed again. “After all, we’re boyfriends. That’s what we’re supposed to do when one of us is sad, right?”
Livi smiles. That sounds like Yassine all right.
“Anyway, if you need me, I can go there this instant,” Yassine offers. “I know you’ve been holding it in, but I can hear you sniffling over there. You might need a shoulder to cry on, or something…”
“No, no need to,” Livi says. He appreciates Yassine’s offer, really, and he does wish to see his boyfriend, but for now, staying alone with his thoughts feels like the best option. “I mean, not tonight. But maybe I can go see you before I have to return to Croatia?”
Yassine hums thoughtfully. “How many more days are you guys going to stay there?”
“I don’t know. One or two at most, I think. Shouldn’t be too long now that we’re eliminated. Why?”
“What if you come here to New Jersey to stay with me for the rest of the tournament?”
Livi blinks. He certainly hasn’t expected this. “Yassine…”
“Only if you want, of course,” Yassine quickly clarifies, voice small but hopeful. “I mean… you don’t have many more things to do here since your team is eliminated, but I know your visa is still active…and I’m sure you still have some time before you need to return to Croatia for preseason…and I want to spend time with you so much. So, if you want…will you come here with me? Please?”
Livi thinks about it, really turns it over in his head. If he has to admit, it might be kinda painful to stay in the USA and see other teams fighting for the World Cup, while he himself has lost that very chance. But he really does miss Yassine, and chances like this won’t come twice.
“Alright,” he says finally, and he can almost see Yassine grinning from ear to ear. “I have to arrange some things with the staff, of course, but I’m sure no one will mind, and I do want to meet you. So, see you when I see you, yeah?”
“Will do,” Yassine laughs. “And I’ll be waiting for you, for sure. Love you, habibi.”
“Love you too, dragi.”