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The chilly December air nips at Robert's skin, wind blowing against his face as he finds himself outside of Marco’s house at 11:46 pm on a Friday night.
How did he get here, you might ask?
Well, Robert wishes he knew the answer. But the truth is he had no idea what he’s doing. What is his reason for standing outside his ex-best-friend-maybe-lover's house? What could've possessed him to spend all day reciting what to say to Marco, figuring out the best words and the right tone, and pacing around his room trying to pick a nice outfit that wasn't too casual but also wasn't too 'I'm trying too hard because I want you back’?
One could say it started a few weeks ago, when Bayern played and beat Borussia. Robert, of course, was happy for the chance to see Marco again, but it clearly was unreciprocated, as Marco was giving him the cold shoulder the whole game, and hugged him as if he was poisonous to touch. It could be said that Robert just wanted to make amends for the game and settle any tension that it brought.
But Robert knew this went way back, back to when he left Borussia and left a very unhappy Marco on his own. Sure, football transfers were normal; everyone did it, and it's not like Robert had a bad reason. Who wouldn't want to play for a better team that paid you more?
But Marco had been particularly unhappy with Robert ever since. And Robert maybe felt like he should apologize, for the way he left things. He had thought it for many years, but it had been reawakened since their last meeting, and he felt the strongest urge to fix things between them. He hated to see Marcos frown, or the stiffness in his body, or the downturn of those lips when he looked at Robert.
Which– fair. Marco had full rights to be pissed at Robert. He had, of course, abandoned him and their team, essentially halting their– whatever they had going on, and making the friendship slash romance harder. Being rivals wasn't going to help, but Robert foolishly thought that just because he changed teams (and would, by extension, see Marco way less) that didn't mean they couldn't keep seeing each other. Right?
Wrong. Turns out, playing against each other harbours negative emotions, especially if you left off on a sour note. Which, unfortunately, Robert did. Robert’s attempts at rekindling whatever they had at Borussia fell off as quickly as they started, and Marco clearly didn't enjoy hugging or even talking to Robert anymore. Hell, he barely wanted to shake his hand at the start of the game.
It made Robert feel silly when all his attempts at connection were shut down. But it also stirred up guilt. It's not like Marco had no reason to be mad. What they had at Borussia was special, and it must've stung for Robert to leave. Clearly it did, with how tense the atmosphere was when they were in the same vicinity. It felt nothing like how their relationship had been before. Robert found himself missing it. He missed Marco.
And the more he missed Marco, the more guilty he felt, because Marco probably missed him too and just felt bad whenever Robert was around him. Or he had decidedly pushed Robert and their relationship from his mind completely, erasing their history just like Robert erased their friendship by transferring.
But Robert didn't think so. He caught the sullen looks from across the field, the way Marco’s hazel eyes lingered a little too long. And he knew Marco, probably better than he knew himself, and not even moving halfway across the world could change the inherent way Robert just understood him, with a mere glance. It could be thousands of years apart, and he figured he'd still know him anywhere.
So Marco probably missed him and was unhappy with the way things left off, which brought a new issue– Robert hadn't really said anything to Marco before he left, nor after, about the transfer and his reasons, hadn't even really properly said goodbye, and Marco was probably owed an apology for it. Robert knew this.
However, knowing and doing were two separate things. It's not like he could just walk up and quickly apologize. It would seem insincere, and Marco deserved something better than that. But it's also not like they had a lot of time seeing each other either. Since they played each other a few times within the season, and they weren't exactly friends anymore, they got little to no interactions, even fewer since Marco never wanted to be in Robert’s area for more than 5 seconds.
Robert wanted them to be close. At least friends, if they couldn't go back to the soft kisses and hand holding that was before. He didn't like the distance or the tension, and he missed their talks about everything and nothing, the way it felt to be around Marco, looking into those beautiful eyes and holding him like he was the most precious thing on earth. Which he was, Robert didn’t think that would ever change. Marco was still as special to Robert as he was all those years ago.
So here he is, standing outside Marcos' door, trying to figure out what in the world he’s doing. Certainly this is a bad idea, right? Right. This is bound to go horribly wrong, there is no denying it. The two of them are barely acquainted anymore, so it’s going to be more than awkward, if not uncomfortable.
And Robert truly has no idea if Marco even wants to see him at the door. He very well could be content never seeing Robert again in his personal life, moving on with his life and leaving their Borussia days as teammates in the past.
But Marco deserves an apology. If not for the transfer itself, then for Robert trying to act like everything was normal, like it would be easy for them to be friends— no, lovers, after Robert left him behind without an explanation. Left their dreams of playing together in the dust. That was the one rational thought that kept Robert from turning around and just going home. He wanted to fix things. And he had to be brave enough to try.
Before he can chicken out even more than he already has, he takes a deep breath and knocks on the door three times. Immediately, the urge to run comes, the thought rushing through his head. His heart rate beats fast in his chest and he starts to sweat, regretting this before it’s even begun.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ Robert thinks, now pacing in front of the door, running a shaky hand through his hair and trying desperately not to bolt and essentially ding dong ditch Marco. ‘What am I doing? This is a terrible idea, I need to get out of here, I need to leave—‘
“Robert?”
Robert freezes, immediately clocking the sound of Marco’s voice, not knowing what to do. He hadn’t heard the door open— but it was too late now, he couldn’t just leave. Marco now knew he was here. He was trapped.
Robert pulls his gaze up at Marco and is hit all of a sudden with a flurry of emotions. Marco, in his pyjamas, looking a little scruffy from sleep, but oh so handsome. Like an angel, blonde hair tousled, voice rough from sleep. Robert had always known Marco looked good— they spent a lot of time together and to the general eye it was hard not to see Marco’s good looks— but here, it felt more domestic. More special, somehow.
But that could also just be Robert’s brain not knowing how to process actually seeing Marco at his door at night, staring at him with those sharp hazel eyes, eyebrows raised in surprise.
It takes him a second to realize Marco is probably waiting for an answer to the unspoken question ‘what are you doing here?’
Robert clears his throat and does his best to straighten up. “Marco, hey,” he starts, and then cringes at the way the delivery sounds. Ugh this is pathetic, what is he even doing? This has to be a horrible, terrible mistake that he’s making.
“Uhh. Hey?” Marco replies, a skeptical look on his face, nose scrunching up and mouth thinning out into a frown. He studies Robert for a second, while Robert tries to find words. Robert can’t— there is too much he has to say and yet the words feel like they're lodged in his throat, refusing to come out. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth, and he just can't stop staring, taking in Marco like a man starved. Sure he saw Marco occasionally at games but this was different.
For one, it has been ages since he’s seen Marco in something other than a football jersey and shorts, especially nightwear. The last time Robert remembers, it was that night, the night before his transfer. They had been in bed together, after certain activities, Marco sleeping peacefully against Roberst bare chest. Marco had only had the energy to throw on only a soft sleep shirt and his boxers, and to this day Robert still remembers how warm it had all been. How he wanted to cherish that moment forever, knowing his transfer would happen the next day and they'd be seeing each other and sharing moments like that way less.
He remembers brushing a hand through Marcos short hair as he slept, peppering soft kisses against his face and hoping to convey just how much he loved him, how much he was going to miss seeing him so much. It’s not like he was moving countries or anything, but moving clubs meant way less time together, and harder scheduling for personal meetups. He didn’t necessarily think it would end forever, on that bed that night. If he had known, he would’ve held Marco a little tighter, kissed him a little longer. Cherished their whatever it was until the very last second. Maybe even found it in him to be honest with Marco, about how the next morning he was going to be gone.
He hadn't thought, too spent and naive and stupid to think things wouldn't get screwed up. Too selfish to think about how lying would affect the other. It was easy to lie, to keep the news a secret, and although it ate at him to not admit it, it was easier to just pretend. To pretend that they could have this forever, the team, eachother. Robert was a coward, and he didn’t want to admit it out loud, to have spent the past worrying and preparing for his leave. He just wanted Marco, like always, for as long as he could have him. In hindsight, he should’ve been honest but he was scared and he let the fear overtake his rational brain. And so he kept the truth inside and decided to snuggle up to Marco instead, the warmth of his body lulling him to sleep
It was unfortunately the last time they slept together, both literally and metaphorically, and Robert’s bed had always felt a little colder since.
Marco looks softer around the edges, probably because it's night time, but it reminds Robert so much of the Marco he had seen at his most intimate. It strikes something warm in the pit of Robert’s belly, thinking of the special relationship they had.
More than friends, less than lovers, something precious and unnamed between them but that held so much value to each of them. Where they could kiss and fuck and hug and still be best friends, not tied down by the burden of labels. What they had was theirs, and it was perfect to them, even if complicated and messy to the eyes of others.
As Robert drinks him in, he notices Marco’s cheeks are starting to get slightly red, probably from the cold outside, which makes him look really cute and fuck, this was a mistake because there was no way Robert could leave now (or to be honest, ever, he doesn’t know how he lasted this long since the transfer) and he could almost bet everyting that this whole thing will end in Robert begging Marco to take him back. Not like it would take much— just Marco existing makes Robert want to drop everything and devote himself to Marco's whole self.
Robert in all honesty, really really missed being with Marco. Those warm hands against his own cold ones, his firm body against his own, those pink lips against his own… yeah, to say he hasn’t spent a lot of his nights helplessly dreaming about (or getting off to) Marco is a lie.
So maybe Robert wants more out of this than friendship. Sue him. They had done it once, and it had been amazing, and he’s maybe a little hopeful in thinking they could try again. He doesn’t like to think that their special thing is irreplaceably broken (even though Robert is a liar and knows he broke it before he knew what he was doing).
But maybe, once Robert apologizes for acting stupid and admits his mistakes, they can try for something again. Maybe once they have sat down and talked, Robert can convince Marco he never intended to lie to him, he can try honesty for once and they can work through all the things that made Marco so upset. Then they can work on other things, like for example getting back together, testing the waters to find where they stand with each other and where they want to be.
Maybe, maybe Marco can be Robert’s again.
That is if he doesn’t already have someone.
Fuck. He might actually be taken. Robert’s mind unhelpfully reminds him. It’s not like he’s been around to occupy Marcos time, Marco could very well be with someone else, right now. Hell, said person could be inside his house, waiting for Marco to come back to bed, to hold him—
Robert doesn't even realize he's zoned out and is unintentionally glaring at Marco until there's a loud cough, from Marco. Robert flushes, shuffling around awkwardly, and Marco has the same awkward, tense look on his face, lips pulled down and eyebrows furrowed. Robert tried desperately to think of something that would make this scenario better. Marcos' intense scrutiny of him doesn't help his brain to work any faster. “Er—“
“Robert, what are you doing here, exactly?” Marco demands suddenly, apparently tired of waiting for Robert to get his shit together. He's tapping his foot impatiently against the floor of his house, giving Robert a look that says ‘explain now or leave’.
Robert fears his chances of this working out are slipping the longer he waits. Waits for what, exactly? It’s not like the universe was going to magically fix their relationship. Why is he so stuck?
Robert straightens up and takes a shaky breath. “Look, Marco, I was just wanting to talk—“
“Talk? What could we possibly have to talk about?” Marco glares, and continues before Robert can respond. “We have nothing to say to each other. I have nothing to say to you. You know what you did.”
Robert frowns but he can't exactly say Marco is wrong. In general they really don’t have anything to discuss. Nothing positive, anyway. Robert tries again, steeling his nerves. “Look, Marco, I know you don’t think we should, but I wanted to talk to you, and I have things I want to say to— look, just— can we talk inside? Please?”
“You’re not coming in here,” Marco states, harshly. He’s guarding the door a little, like he thinks Robert will try and force himself in. Robert finds it a little silly. He also doesn’t miss how the idea of talking wasn't the one that was shut down. Just being inside his house.
Still, Robert is fucking freezing, and he’d rather not be having this conversation outside, where all the neighbors and any passersby can overhear. “But it’s warmer inside, and I really think it would be better to have this conversation somewhere private—“
“You’re not coming in here because we're not having any conversation. End of discussion. This ends here, with you outside and me inside.” Well, so much for hope that Marco was open to a friendly chat.
It’s probably on Robert for assuming Marco would be in a friendly mood, considering he knows and has witnessed firsthand how Marco acts around him.
“Don’t be like that Marco,” Robert pleads with him anyway. He really just needs to talk so he can get out all of his regrets and feelings, but Marco is as stubborn as ever. Robert can't find he hates him for it, though. It just reminds him that Marco is still Marco, the same man he fell in love with all those years ago.
“No,” Marco replies, but he makes no move to close the door. “You know what— why don't you just go away, Robert, I don’t want to see you,”
Robert finds himself stunned, and suddenly it feels like theres a pit in his stomach. This can’t be happening. “Wait, but—“
“I don’t want to hear it, Robert, I’ve made up my mind. I don't want you here. Please, leave and don't come back again,” Marco interrupts, eyes boring into Robert’s own. He still looks tense and ready for an argument, and Robert hates how they’ve become like this.
If you asked Robert from back in Borussia if Marco was ever stiff and guarded around him, he would’ve snorted like it was such a foreign concept it shouldn’t even be considered in any universe. Now look where he was.
Marco starts to move to close the door, and in a frantic attempt to not have this all end too soon, Robert pushes an arm in, stopping him. Marco glares harder but doesn't try and slam the door on him.
“Marco, wait— I was wrong, okay?” He says, forcing the words out quickly, hoping Marco won’t just throw him out of the way and lock the door. He’s sure they'd never speak again after that, in any scenario.
Marco pauses, eyes narrowing but looking at Robert as if hear wants to know more. Which Robert sees as a win, considering he’s actually hearing Robert out. Robert won’t lose this chance to get what he can out.
“I hurt your feelings, when I left. I know that,” he admits, voice rough. He coughs in an attempt to get the quivering to stop. Whether it’s because of the cold or because he’s nervous, he doesn’t know. It feels weird being this on edge, but he supposes Marco has always found ways to make Robert feel things he’s never felt before.
Marco fixes him with a blank stare, like he’s unsurprised by this revelation. “Yes, you did,” he responds, frankly.
Robert struggles to form more words, the impact of Marcos straightforward admittance stinging a little. But Robert can’t say he didn’t do this to himself. And fuck it, he’s in it now, might as well go all the way.
“Look. I’ve reflected on everything, and I learned my lesson. I was unfair, and I lied to you, and I acted like a kid trying to pretend things were normal after I transferred, when I knew better. And I know you were hurt and you didn’t like that I did that and— and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” Robert says, exhaling a breath into the chilly night. He watches his breath fill the air so he doesn’t have to look at Marco’s face.
It’s silent for a while, just the two of them breathing, before Marco speaks. “Is that all? Is that what you came here to say?”
Robert sighs and pulls his gaze back to Marcos. He looks a little more frustrated, but less angry. More like he doesn’t know what to do with Robert’s words, or maybe his own feelings on the matter.
Marco always liked when people were honest. Robert supposes that’s a sacrifice he is willing to make for him.
“I’m here because I wanted to say sorry, yes. It’s long overdue. I should’ve done things differently when I left, I should’ve told you earlier, and I should’ve considered your feelings. And I didn’t. That was wrong of me,” Robert admits. There’s a pause before he adds, “But I also— well. I came because I wanted us to try again. If you want.”
Marcos breath hitches, and he looks suddenly very distraught. “What?”
Robert feels like he’s making a mistake here, but he would rather try and fail than not try at all. This is Marco. He’d go to hell and back for him. He’s willing to take chances, even if they’re scary.
“I never wanted us to be apart,” Robert admits, feeling very much like he’s bearing his heart to Marco on his doorstep. “I never meant for things to go wrong between us, and I want to start over with you, if that’s what you want too. Try to repair our relationship. I miss you, Marco.”
Marco looks too stunned to speak, caught in a mix between hurt and surprise and what Robert thinks is a tiny sliver of hope blooming. He pushes on, even though he feels like he’s on the edge of a cliff, about to leap off without knowing what’s below.
“Marco,” Robert gulps, “can you give me one more chance?”
Marco falters at the door, and Robert feels the ever growing urge to flee, away from this doorstep, from Marco, from maybe the country. Spare himself the misery.
He doesn’t. Instead, he forces himself to gauge Marcos reaction, and he has that same furrow in his brow that Robert knows means he’s not sure how to proceed. Robert decides not to say anything more, patiently waiting for Marco to figure things out with the information bomb Robert just dropped on him.
Marco bites his lip in contemplation and then sighs. “Can I ask you something, Robert?”
And Robert… did not expect that. He expected a no, or a ‘what?’. Had even prepared himself for each option, mentally rehearsing each scenario. But not this. Robert didn't know how to respond to this. He doesn’t know what Marco is thinking right now and that bothers him.
“Uhm, sure?” He answers instead, deciding to not bother questioning Marcos' thinking process.
“What did they have that we didn’t have?” He asks, fiddling with his sleeves. He looks smaller now, and Robert doesn’t know what to do.
“I— what?”
“Bayern. What did they have that we— that I didn’t? You said you'd stay with me, that we’d be unstoppable together, win for our team together. You whispered it to me countless nights, and then you went away, up and left without much of a word,” he clarifies, and Robert feels pained at the memories, the truth of what Marco is saying.
“You hid your transfer like Bayern was some special secret you had to keep from me, and left me with an I’m sorry and a see you soon. You lied, and it was like all your words were just that, words. So what was it, that was more important than being honest with me? What was so special about Bayern that you couldn’t even tell me before that morning where you were going and what was happening?” He asks, and his voice quivers.
Robert doesn’t even have time to process or respond before Marco is continuing his rant, voice rising with anger and a hint of sadness. “Or was it just me? You couldn’t stand the— the thing we had anymore, and so you didn’t think I was worth telling the truth to in advance?
“You thought what, that it was just casual and I’d be perfectly fine with my best friend and the— the love of my life abandoning me and the team like we were nothing but a moment that you enjoyed temporarily? Like what we had wasn't special? Because you left like it was easy,” he takes a shuddery breath, and Robert realizes his eyes are watering. He feels his own sting as well, “but it wasn’t easy for me, Robert.”
“I know,” Robert says after Marco has gotten it all out, panting heavily and looking on the verge of either crying or lashing out. “Marco, I’m sorry.”
“And you wonder why I’m asking you to go away. I cant— I can’t stand seeing you, do you know that? After what you did,” he shakes his head at Robert, and yeah that hurts too. Marco not being able to stand seeing Robert, that hurts.
“I don’t even care that you left the team, money is money and transfers are normal. It would’ve been fine, if you had just been honest. So I would’ve been ready to let you go. But instead you lie and lie and then you dissapear and I have to find out from the fucking press that you transfered. Because you couldn't just tell your best friend, and I don’t understand. I could never understand why you didn’t just tell me.”
“I was scared,” Robert blurts, and there it is. The truth, the reason Robert had kept the transfer from Marco. Fear. Marco looks taken aback, like he hadn’t expected that. Well, it’s the answer he’s getting. Robert, for once, is tired of lying.
“I was scared that if I told you, things would change. And they very clearly did, but I wanted— I wanted to hold onto what we had for as long as possible,” Robert says, and Marcos' eyes soften a fraction, so he keeps going.
“I knew my transfer would complicate things between us. But I didn’t want them to be complicated before I even left. I kept it from you because I wanted you, without all the worries and the last times, like a breakup. I wasn’t ready to lose you and I was scared that I would, so I lied to try and starve it off for as long as possible.
“And then I left and I missed you so much and I wanted us to go back to how we used to, so I tried to pretend like things were normal but clearly that was stupid since I was just being naive and hurting you more by acting like things were okay,” Robert tells him.
“And I’m sorry for that. Bayern is great, it’s a solid team and I feel important there, but I didn’t mean to make you feel like I chose it over you. And I didn’t mean to act like what I did wasn't shitty. It’s not the same without you, Marco, and it never will be,” he takes a breath, words tumbling out before he can stop them, “I love playing with you, Marco. I love you.”
And uh oh, that wasn’t supposed to slip out. Apparently Robert’s mouth is faster than his brain, and he feels his face heating up.
To his (somewhat) luck, Marco seems to be having a hard time processing all this information, so maybe it’s possible he missed it. And as backup, Robert can always blame the blush on the cold.
Marco clears his throat after what feels like forever. “Oh,” is all that comes out. It feels appropriate to what’s just been admitted.
“Yeah,” Robert replies, feeling like he’s been gutted, having spilled all his information out to Marco in one go. It feels strangely cathartic though, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He can’t explain why it feels good to be honest. Maybe it just feels good that he was finally brave enough to tell Marco the truth, even if it’s years too late.
A glance at Marco shows Robert’s that his shoulders have marginally relaxed, and that he looks slightly more complacent, like this information has healed a little part of him. Robert hopes he can keep being honest, even if it feels like carving himself open, if it helps Marco feel better.
“It’s not the same without you, on the team,” Marco says after a while of them just processing the weight of their situation together, voice softer, and Robert feels like this is starting to go okay.
“Yeah, it feels different playing without you too,” Robert nods. “I always feel like something is missing. My life is pretty incomplete without you, you know,” Robert laughs softly, honesty seeping through his pores, and the soft smile he receives from Marco feels better than any moment they spent together in a lie.
“You know, ever since I left, I always missed all the little things you did,” Robert says, and suddenly he doesn’t feel embarrassed to tell Marco all the things he’s thought about him for the past few years. It feels better being completely honest with Marco. He should’ve been doing it from the start.
“Like what?” Marco asks, a genuine question, and Robert can’t find a lying bone in his body.
“Like how your eyes crinkle softly and your dimples show when you smile, or how you cover your face when you’re embarrassed. Or how you can’t hold back a smile when you see something you like.”
Just like he said, Marco smiles, and his dimples show, eyes crinkling softly, and Robert can’t help but smile back, heart feeling full and warm. This isn’t how he expected their interaction to go when he had first shown up at Marco’s house, but he’s glad it went the direction it did. They seem to be on decent terms at least, maybe reaching some sort of understanding.
Robert supposes they can work on it from here. And he finds it's something he wants to do.
“Won't you take me back, Marco?” he finds himself asking, unable to hide his grin. It feels like all his worries have gone away, like being around Marco has taken away the stress of everything. It had always been like that, Robert supposes. He had just forgotten how it felt.
Marco shakes his head softly, a soft laugh bubbling up. “This is your last chance,” he chides, and it’s light, but Robert takes it as what it is— a chance to do things right.
And when Marco opens the door, inviting him in from the cold for tea and to talk more, Robert knows he won’t let the chance go to waste. He won’t lose Marco ever again. And that’s not a lie, and never will be.