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When you think of the word "routine," your mind would probably think of things like your daily breakfast or perhaps the exercises you do in the morning—small things you do without much complicated thought, most likely. But it was never like this for Mustafa. For Mustafa, routine is something more than that; it's something he encompasses every aspect of it and brings him comfort.
The routine is those looks he gives Hany to follow him after training, or during rest between training sessions, as they play for the same team after all, "Al-Ahly". So that they can hide somewhere out of sight, like a teenage couple, they don't think about the future as much as they think about cherishing these precious yet short moments where he can hold Hany in his arms and mess with his 'already' messy curls. Where he can look in his eyes with all the compassion he had been trying to suppress throughout the entire training session. Those soft giggles, which they are careful not to make too loud.
It's those nights they spend talking on the phone on their days off, because they can't bear not hearing each other's voices for a whole day, talking about random things. It's the movies that Hany likes but Mustafa doesn't, they continue arguing about it for hours, trying to convince the other of their opinion, but neither of them is convinced. Those online games that Hany always loses in because he refuses to look at the rules and refuses to listen to Mustafa when he tries to teach him, Mustafa never really knew why. They might all seem like they have many arguments, but they didn't actually care about them; all they cared about was being able to talk to each other about anything that comes to mind.
It's those moments when they sit next to each other when the team goes to a restaurant to celebrate a win. While the other team members have always pointed out that they both seem like "brothers" because when they sit next to each other, they keep talking as if they're in their own world, perhaps they're unable to see the pair of hands under the restaurant's table, where the fingers touch each other, as if they're afraid of wasting any moment without feeling each other's touch. Those moments where Hany is incapable of taking his eyes off Mustafa, making sure he gives him a tissue to wipe away any leftovers around his mouth.
It's those moments when Hany wants to wipe Mustafa's mouth with his own hands, just as he does when they are having dinner at one of their homes. Sometimes Mustafa deliberately leaves food scraps on his mouth just so Hany will clean them up for him, Hany knows this, but he'll do it with a smile anyway, every time. It's that the only place they can consider "home" is when they are sitting close to each other in any building, when their shoulders could touch each other, and not "by accident". Where Mustafa can lower his head when Hanu places his hands on his neck and tastes his lips, sometimes quickly, sometimes long and deep. Where they can breathe the same air, taste the same food, and wear each other's clothes without noticing.
It's those moments when they can see every detail of each other's bodies while sleeping on the same bed sheets, when they can see each other's smiles so closely. When Mustafa gets up and leaves Hany to sleep longer to prepare breakfast for both of them, the way Hany prefers it. Breakfast itself wasn't as important as these small details were in Mustafa's day.
It's those moments when they leave the team early to walk together, not to go to a specific destination, not to talk about anything specific, just walking side by side and looking at the sky will be enough for both of them. Maybe Mustafa will crack a joke along the way and Hany will always laugh no matter how silly it is; he's always smiling around Mustafa like some 9 year old boy in a family trip, and that's exactly what makes Mustafa want to say whatever random thing he thinks of because he loves hearing that same sweet augh.
It's those moments during the holidays when they are supposed to spend time with their families; they steal their phones at any opportunity so that they can complain to each other about young relatives or annoying old people; they were each other's real family. Neither of them cared to listen to talk about marriage and children from their families; both knew in their hearts that they have each other, in training, in matches, and even after they retire.
It's those moments when they watch each other in photoshoots. They might laugh at the way the other person poses, they might compliment each other's looks, they might talk about the poor lighting or the many things photographers ask of them, but they certainly can't take their eyes off each other.
It's those rare moments when Mustafa talks about the things that bother him, how everyone looks down on him and can't see his skills, how they compare him to his father, saying he only plays because of his father's position. The first person he thinks of telling about these burdensome things is Hany. He knows that Hany isn't very good with words. However, he can see the look of appreciation and respect for his abilities in the man's bright eyes. He can see the pride Hany feels towards him when he plays a good game. He can feel the tenderness when Hany takes him in his arms, pats his back a few times, and the pecks he leaves on his forehead, saying some comforting words that anyone could say to him. Although it's different because it comes from the mouth of the man who loves. Only when he feels the touch of the other man can his mind find peace; sometimes all it takes is one person for you to realize that the world might not be that bad.
In all these countless moments, all of them contain only one single person. Even though he is satisfied with his reality now, he wishes from the bottom of his whole being that this would remain his routine tomorrow and till he's 6 feet under the ground, even if they parted ways to play for different teams or even in different countries. His only wish would remain that his senses— even if only his ears, could hear the voice of this person who soothes his soul with nothing but pure bliss.