Work Text:
With that familiar crisp sound, Leo finally put the ball into the back of Spain's net. The score now leveled in extra time. In an instant, the stadium came to life. Cheers erupted from everyone clad in the albiceleste colours. Cries of disbelief and frustration resounded from the rest of the stadium's populace.
Leo ran towards the edge of the pitch, arms held open in celebration. He'd done the impossible once again. He brought Argentina back from death. The hope of his entire nation shone bright again when it was just at the cusp of fizzling out. He'd managed to give La Scaloneta one last chance in what had been an abysmal final for them thus far. He would do his best not to squander it.
All at once, Leo's teammates descended upon him. Strong arms grabbing wherever they could. But something felt off. They weren't drawing him in for hugs, trying to lift him up nor pulling him closer to plant kisses on whatever bare skin they could find. They were urging him towards the ground. Why? Was something wrong?
"Did anyone see where it came from?"
"You'll be fine, Leo. Don't worry."
"Fucking hell! We need the medics! NOW!"
Who is even talking right now and what do they mean? See where what came from? And calling the medics? Leo doesn't need a medic. At least he doesn't think so. Nothing feels wrong. Matter of fact, he's still riding the high and feeling the warmth of scoring that equalizer.
"Leo, look at me please!"
Leo tried to do as he was told. When did his eyes fall closed? It was a challenge to pry them open. The sight that greeted him only made him more confused. His teammates were gathered around him. Several of them were speaking at once so it was hard to make out anything. Then one voice, Licha's, cut clearly above the rest.
"You son of a bitch! He's bleeding like hell! We're not starting back the fucking game until Leo's gunshot wound is tended to!"
What?
Hearing that brought Leo back to reality. The joy and adrenaline rush that came with scoring such an important goal melted away. In its wake a deep, throbbing pain coursed through Leo's left thigh. Warmth seeped down his leg and Leo didn't need to look down to know it was his blood. His increasingly racing heart and lightheadedness told him all he needed to know.
The threat was real.
Leo was among those who scoffed in disbelief when they were told to throw the match lest there be grave consequences prior to kickoff. Who in their right mind would purposely lose the world cup final because of online dissent? Cries about matches being rigged and Argentina being favoured by FIFA is a tale as old as social media. Similar comments were made in the previous edition of the tournament. What was so different this time around? Evidently, more than Leo realized since it was serious enough to be shot over.
"Keep applying pressure, Licha. Don't let up!"
"Hey! Back the fuck up!"
"You don't want to see this, kid."
Kid? Which ki-
"S-so much blood..."
Oh.
Blearily, Leo's dark brown eyes shifted towards the figure poking through a gap in the circle his teammates had formed around him. As he tried to unblur his vision, Leo's eyes trailed further up to meet a familiar pair of black eyes. He remembered those eyes. They were the same ones he'd first gazed into nineteen years ago. Those eyes, once filled with curiosity and wonder for the world around him, were now filled with terror. Leo never wanted to see such a stark look of horror on Lamine's face again. His heart couldn't take it.
"No Leo, lay back down."
He had tried to get up?
A pained groan left Leo's lips as Licha's hands slipped, undoubtedly from the sheer amount of blood gushing from the gunshot wound. His left thigh throbbed something fierce. A chilling numbness began to permeate his body. That wasn't a good sign.
"Get Yamal away from here!"
At the mention of his name, Leo's eyes found Lamine again. The young boy's eyes were brimmed with unshed tears. Leo couldn't have that. Against his better judgement, Leo tried to sit up again. He mustered all his strength to do it and gave Lamine what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It was anything but that. Tears quickly streamed down Lamine's face. A choked off sob accompanied the waterworks. The sight and sound made Leo's racing heart ache.
"Let the medics through!"
Leo emitted a low, pained hiss as Licha's hands were practically pried off of his left thigh. He felt more blood spurt from the wound and it left him feeling colder. Several gloved hands quickly descended on him after that. One set pressed something soft, probably gauze, on the wound. Another lifted his leg as gently as they could while a third quickly applied a tourniquet. Leo bit his lower lip to stifle a pained cry as the medic pulled it taut.
A gloved hand gently tapping Leo's face brought him back. He had blacked out. Leo could barely reopen his eyes even partway. What little of his surroundings he could see swam before him. The shocked and horrified expressions of those around him blurred together as he was carefully hoisted onto a stretcher. A siren blared in the distance.
"You did good, Licha. Don't cry."
Licha's crying?
"Leo will be fine, right? Please tell me he'll be fine!"
Pedri?
A hand on his chest prevented Leo from trying to sit up again. He forced his eyes to open a few fractions more. His vision focused just enough to catch snapshots of the chaos unfolding around him between blinks with longer and longer intervals.
Enzo was sobbing hysterically on the sidelines as he tried to get onto the pitch. A visibly shaken Aimar barely held him back. Blood had absolutely drenched Licha's hands and the front of his jersey. Cuti was doing his best to console him while clearly needing comfort himself. Leandro was being held back by Ota while the ref was on the ground holding his nose. Lamine's face was buried in someone's chest, his shoulders shaking as he cried. Several Spanish players stood frozen, watching on in horror.
The stretcher jostled as Leo was loaded into the back of the ambulance. The noise of the stadium, and the shouts of his teammates, was muffled by the metal walls. The doors were swiftly shut behind him and the siren once again wailed. Alongside the pain and ever-increasing numbness, a suffocating guilt settled in Leo's chest.
What had he done?