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Robert can already sense it when he steps onto the field. Everything feels a little bit wrong today. His shoes feel too tight, his chest twists in the wrong way when he tries to get himself in the mindset. And of course, he’s distracted. He tries not to directly face the Yellow Wall, or allow any of Dortmund’s faces to register in his head.
There’s that fluffy black mop of curls (Mats), the laughing one (Shinji), the mohawk (Auba, no doubt)...
The #11 top is still stretching. He puts his hands on his hips and stops, rolling around his ankle for a bit. For a brief second, Robert allows himself to squint and try to make out his face. Marco looks up, vaguely at the top row of fans milling around, pressing his lips together. There is the same wonder in his eyes as when he joined, basking in the attention of the fans packed into the stadium.
The crowd drops to a murmur briefly. Robert snaps himself away from his thoughts. He’s always been good at compartmentalising this sort of stuff. Hasn’t he?
The whistle blows, his cleats strike the grass, and it’s off.
—
By halftime it’s 1-1. He’d scored 12 minutes in, right into the top left. Robert snatches his bottle off the bench and gulps down his salty sports drink.
“Hey, slow down. You’re gonna drown yourself.” Jérôme says.
“Mmm.” He twists his foot around, ripping up a patch of grass and stomping on it.
—
He gets a pass from Xabi, starts taking it up towards the right, his heart thrumming along every time his eyes rake over a yellow kit. Robert’s legs are wearing a little quicker than usual today. It’s natural, he can pass it to Mario, sweep in closer to the danger zone, then-
A smear of yellow flies in from his left in his peripheral vision. He jerks right, puts his arm out a little, makes a shot towards Mario, but lets his foot follow through a bit too much until it hits what is unmistakably the other player’s leg. Robert stumbles and manages to stay on his feet, but hears the thump next to him. It takes less than a second for the ref to stop the game. The caved roof of Signal Iduna Park focuses the cacophony of noise from the fans towards the pitch and he feels the prickling of a million eyes on his back as he turns around, panting.
Fuck, out of everyone it could’ve been. Marco is lying on his side facing away from him and clutching his ankle, groaning.
“Marco?” He jogs over and takes a knee next to him. His heart starts beating out of his chest, watching him wheeze and gasp, squirming as he puts a tentative hand on his back. “Marco? Marco! C’mon!” The back muscles under his shirt are completely tensed, shaking with the force of the pain.
“Fucking…again…” His voice is strained, and something in Robert’s mind clicks as he realises how bad it could be. He’d seen Marco cry, only twice once, straight after he first tore his ankle ligament in the hospital.
“No, no, you-” He wants to tell him that it’ll be fine, but can he really promise him anything?
Robert schools his expression, or at least tries to. His single job today is to play football.
It doesn’t take long for the bees to swarm around them. Shinji gets there first, wide-eyed. Then Auba, Kuba, and Mats, and eventually half of the Bayern players too. Mario peers over as well at his former teammate. Auba gets over to Marco’s other side and kneels on the grass.
The ref immediately beckons the medical staff to get on, biting his cheek as he turns to Robert and produces a yellow card out of his breast pocket without a word. He knew it was coming, and now looks down.
Everything happens as if Robert is a ghost, just floating, with his teammates watching around him. He digs crescent moons into his palms trying to convince himself that it’s real. Marco’s whining and quiet sobbing repeats again and again, like a broken record player. Mats looks, no, stares at him with this kind of blank expression that Robert can’t read.
One of the medics hands Marco a green whistle and after a few seconds, a shaking pale arm comes up to grip it and the hiccuping stops. The stretcher comes out and Robert watches in dread, as if he were the one being loaded on. His eyes can’t seem to detach themselves from the scene. Marco glances over him for a second too long as he’s taken off.
Robert looks to the sky as if he’ll find a way to escape up there, away from the noise of not the furious Yellow Wall but his own thoughts. Not of Marco, Marco, Marco…
—
15th November 2014
TRANSCRIPT
BT Sport: Der Klassiker
Commentated by Tim Caple
[9:48pm]
TC: Lewandowski, passing it off to Götze and- oh! Marco Reus goes down! And the game has stopped, looks like a nasty ankle injury once again for him…
TC: Not looking good for him. That’s a yellow for Lewandowski now.
TC: And Reus, very much in pain, coming off his ankle injury just before the World Cup, looks in a bad way right now.
…
TC: Here we have a replay, Reus comes up on the left side, Lewandowski makes a pass and pushes his foot out.
TC: We can see Reus’ ankle actually giving way here. Seems to me another ligament tear. Dortmund, not happy. Klopp, worried.
…
TC: And Großkreutz takes Reus’ place.
—
He plays terribly, his right leg going on something between a cramp and a prosthetic that he has to drag around. Robert knows his mind is out of the game when he’s subbed off in the 71st minute. Weiser leans over, telling him he played well. It goes in one ear and out the other- how could he have played well?
Robert had been lucky enough not to feel the guilt of injuring someone to such a degree before. The simple fact it was his first one was enough. For the rest of the match, he twists his foot around and looks up to the sky. They win 2-1.
—
15th November 2014
WHATSAPP
Robert Lewandowski - Mats Hummels
[10:43pm]
RL: Is Marco okay?
MH: Could be better
RL: Any idea how long he will be out for?
MH: No
RL: Can I see him?
RL: I want to apologise
MH: Maybe later
RL: Okay
RL: Tell him I’m sorry
RL: Please
—
15th November 2014
WHATSAPP
Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang - Marco Reus
[10:56pm]
PA: Any news ??
MR: it’s pretty bad i need a mri soon
MR: hurts
PA: Im coming to the clinic right after media
PA: I promise
MR: thanks bro
—
16th November 2014
WHATSAPP
Robert Lewandowski - Marco Reus
[12:02am]
RL: I’m truly sorry Marco I didn’t mean it
RL: I hope you recover quickly
RL: Let me know when I can come to the clinic, I want to see you
[12:14am]
RL: ?
—
Marco is fucking high out of his mind. Every green whistle after the first one was simply a blur in his imagination. A physio assistant with long, shiny, black hair and icy blue eyes vaguely watches him as the mass of yellow jackets flits around the back, buzzing around the clinic.
He remembers the pop and rip of his ankle, the prickling of the turf on his cheek as he tried to hold it all together, to convince himself it was yet another 4 day injury that would come and go. He remembers the warm hands all over him and how cold his sweat-covered skin felt against the cold November air.
“Mr Reus, you have a visitor.”
“Who?”
“Mr Aub-”
Pierre rushes into the room, first flinging his backpack down on the floor and then engulfing Marco in a tight hug. “Bro, holy shit, you scared us all so much!”
“Yeah,” Marco gulps, a small grin on his face thinking about the other visitors he might have. “I don’t know about the ankle. It felt nearly as bad as last time.”
“Sheesh.” He peers at it like a kid in a zoo, too scared to touch it.
Marco eyes his phone and Pierre passes it to him. He opens Whatsapp first and frowns at the screen.
“Lots of messages?”
Marco groans. “Yeah.” Pierre knows he finds it a bit exhausting at times to respond to people. It doesn’t make it any better than he has to lie to 90% of them and say he’ll be feeling fine in a bit.
“C’mon, I’ll help you answer them.”
They scroll down the list, starting from the very beginning. In order, there’d been:
- Mum who had sent a panicked paragraph
- Melanie who had sent a slightly less panicked and shorter paragraph
- Yvonne who said Dad was nervous and asked what food he wanted them to bring
- Mario who asked how many games he would be out for and an inspirational post from Facebook
- Mats who asked 10 questions about what his recovery would be like
- Lukasz who Marco and Pierre knew was seriously worried but trying to hide it
- Roman (Neustadter) with lots of crying emojis
- Roman (Weidenfeller) with about 4 words
- Shinji who sent a string of 50 texts over the course of an hour
- Schmelle with a slightly emotional speech
- Nuri who offered up his driving services for the next month
Pierre glances over Robert’s contact which Marco had pretended not to see earlier. “Do you- I mean, do you want to reply to him?”
Marco pauses. They had been walking the line between strangers and mild friends since he’d moved. He knew it was bound to happen, that Robert was considering his options at the time, but a selfish part of him wished he’d stay if he asked him to.
—
Robert Lewandowski to join Bayern Munich from Borussia Dortmund
4th January 2014
[BBC]
Lewandowski Joins Bayern Munich
4th January 2014
[Der Spiegel]
Bayern Munich confirm deal for Robert Lewandowski
4th January 2014
[Sky Sports]
—
5th January 2014
CALL TRANSCRIPT
WHATSAPP
Robert Lewandowski - Marco Reus
[3:25am]
RL: Mmmgh, Robert speaking…
[SNIFFLING]
RL: Whuh- wha- who is this?
MR: ‘s Marco…
RL: Why’re you calling so early? What’s going on?
MR: You’re leaaaaaaving! Fuck off!
[HICCUPING]
MR: Robert…
RL: Marco? Are you dr-
MR: We were so good together, then you- then you ruined it, did you? …Did you think about me? Stupid, stupid, stupid idiot!
RL: You’re drunk, where are you? Are you outside?
MR: I won’t miss you… really, I’ll score against you, a lot, and I’ll forget, forget- argh!
[GLASS SHATTERS]
RL: Marco! Where are you? Are you with anyone? Please, just tell me, are you at home?
[RUSTLING]
MR: Mmmmm. I lo-
RL: Stop! I’m coming to get you. Are you hurt?
[FAINT LAUGHING]
MR: Nooooo, yeeessssss!
—
The coat he’d thrown on as he left the house had been shed long ago. The light rain and cool breeze are welcoming on his electric skin as he sprints from his car up to Marco’s front door.
Robert’s movements are no longer sluggish but jittery and nervous. He’s about to dial Marco when the door handle shakes, once, twice, then the door swings open. It’s damn clear that he’s drunk, with his face and ears flushed an angry shade of red and the stench of alcohol basically emanating off his skin and panting breath. For a moment, Marco half-leans on the door silently as if he’s trying to figure out if the man at his door is, in fact, real.
“Are you- did you drop a glass earlier?” Robert starts. He doesn’t know what else to say, now that he’s here.
“I lied,” Marco blurts. “I’ll miss you. And, a-and-”
To Robert’s surprise, Marco starts sniffling. Before the full-on bawling he’d learnt that many drunk people did, he ushers Marco back into his own house, hauling him past the crime scene of a knocked-over succulent with its soil splattered all over the floorboards, towards the light of the living room.
There’s a puddle of amber liquid on the floor pooling around jagged chunks of glass. As Marco flops onto the couch, Robert gingerly picks up a soggy label.
“Rum? What are you, a pirate?”
Marco says nothing, just stares up at the ceiling. Robert snoops around looking for something to sweep up the glass with. Eventually, he finds a dustpan and quickly gets most of the visible bits. As he mops up the remaining liquid with a towel, he spots a sliver of red.
“Did you cut yourself?” He walks over to the deadweight on the couch and picks up Marco’s hands, trying to look for a smudge of red, finding a nick on his pinky. “Where are your Bandaids?”
Abruptly, Marco sits up, eyes glassy and jaw slack. “I think- I think you’re perfect.”
“Yeah?”
“I, I knew, for a long time… maybe I don’t want to believe it.”
Robert feels himself starting to choke. When he’s 40 something and retired, or earlier, he’ll look back on his 20s and this could be the first thing he remembers.
“I like you.”
When Robert doesn’t respond, Marco puts an icy cold hand on the back of his neck and weakly pulls him towards him. He sloppily presses his lips to Robert’s cheek, then gives him a quick peck on the mouth. Robert seems frozen as Marco lets his head sink onto his shoulder, arms loosely wrapping around his back.
“I wish you would stay,” he mutters. “Lewy, Lewy, Lewy…”
Neither of them move as Marco quietly cries.
—
16th November 2014
WHATSAPP
Robert Lewandowski - Marco Reus
[1:20am]
RL: Hey
[2:04am]
MR: it’s ok
RL: When can I visit?
MR: After my mri
RL: Okay is it the same clinic?
MR: yes
—
15th November 2014
TRANSCRIPT
BT Sport: Der Klassiker Post-Match Interviews
Robert Lewandowski and ZDF
[11:04pm]
ZDF: Can you walk us through the incident with Marco Reus? What happened from your perspective?
RL: I mean, I-
RL: It was completely accidental. I wasn’t concentrating properly and mistakenly hit his bad ankle. It happened so quickly and unfortunately it had a bad outcome. I wish- um, in my time with him I saw amazing talent, I hope he makes a quick recovery and gets back on the pitch soon.
—
“...Mr Reus, please take off anything that has metal. Your earrings, any belts, any clothing with metal parts.” It’s the same assistant from earlier. Her voice is sweet and a bit shy, with a tinge of some foreign accent.
Marco had heard enough horror stories of people bringing metal into an MRI before. He fiddles with his earrings and hands them to her, watching her brows furrow as she sticks them into a little plastic pouch. She reminds him of someone.
—
16th November 2014
WHATSAPP
Robert Lewandowski - Mats Hummels
[2:43pm]
MH: Marco is having his MRI right now
MH: Come to the clinic tonight
RL: Ok
RL: Did he say anything about seeing me?
MH: No idea
MH: But hes definitely mad about the ankle
MH: Could put him out for a few months again
—
16th November 2014
WHATSAPP
Robert Lewandowski - Marco Reus
[3:26pm]
RL: I’m coming to the clinic now
—
The florist’s eyes light up in recognition and shock as Robert approaches nervously. She gives him a wide grin, too happy for someone running.
“Lewandowski! No way! I’m a huge fan! How can I help you?”
“I, ah, I need help with a bouquet.”
“Yeah, yeah sure! What size?”
“Um, medium.”
“And for what occasion?”
“For a friend who’s sick.”
There’s a part of his mind that realises it’s glaringly obvious who it’s for just by his expression. The florist starts to turn a bit pink and Robert can’t help but imagine the potential stories that will start floating around forums tonight. Maybe ‘Robert came to my flowershop to order flowers for Marco, how sweet’, followed by ‘Guys I have really never seen Robert this shaky, is it possible that something deeper is going on between him and Marco?’
“Okay, if you come over here…” She leads him to a wall with a floor-to-ceiling poster. “This is a guide to all of the flowers we offer. You see, we have pictures of them, the colours offered and their meaning. You can pick which ones you want. We recommend 2 or 3.”
“Ah, ok.”
She walks away, probably to make that forum post and start a thread or whatever they call them. He lets himself zone out for a minute.
Marco isn’t that type of person, the one that Googles the meaning of every flower in a bouquet when they get one. Or maybe he will be. No, what are you thinking? He could throw it away for all you know.
It still matters to Robert. He ends up picking magnolia first, ‘nobility’ because Marco’s good enough to let him talk to him. Maybe they’ll talk, so white chrysanthemums for ‘truth’. Then blue salvia for how much he’d let him take over every living thought in his mind for the past day.
By the time he tells the florist what he wants, he realises it doesn’t seem like a ‘get well soon’ bouquet at all, but a weird combination that somehow suits Marco perfectly. For the 10-15 minutes he waits as she arranges and wraps the flowers, he reads the list of flowers top to bottom 2 times to try to get his mind off things.
“What would you like me to write on the card?”
“Emm, I can do it myself.”
He pays the €70 and sprints back to his car.
—
“Are you feeling okay?” Says the assistant.
Marco blinks. The world is spinning a bit. When his vision clears, he realises the person talking to him is not the assistant at all, but a particular black-haired, blue-eyed and tall football player. He stares at him blankly.
“Why are you here?”
“Um, I-” Robert thickly swallows, the words falling apart in his mouth. Now that Marco really is in front of him, closer than they’ve been in months, he doesn’t know where to start. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” What kind of apology is that? He lets the stupid feeling of guilt take over his mind, then his mouth, then his hands as he touches the pristine blanket, dangerously close to Marco’s own hand. Hesitantly, his eyes lock onto the ankle, wrapped up like a vase in bubble wrap. It’s not meant to look like that. It’s meant to move around, to make quick passes and crazy shots.
Marco doesn’t say anything. He glances at the new bunch of flowers with the other 5 gift baskets he’d gotten already.
“Please, say something! I don’t care if you can’t forgive me, we both know it was my fault. I just wanted to hear from you again. I’m selfish, Marco.” He feels his eyes stinging and the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes as he blinks.
“I’m out until early February, okay?” He mumbles, trying to mask the anger in his voice. “3 fucking months. I won’t stay 25 forever, the rest of my body won’t- it won’t stay like this forever.” Marco winces as he tries to move his ankle slightly. “I’m not mad because it’s you, I’m mad because it happened.”
Robert nods, swallowing.
“Okay.”
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Marco blurts.
“I know. I’m here because I want to.”
“Where’s the team?”
“Ah, um, in Munich. I stayed for you.”
“...You didn’t have to. Go train with your team.” His voice shakes as he turns away.
“I’m here already, aren’t I?”
Over the next 10 minutes, Robert’s attempts at making conversation are responded to shortly and curtly. At least he’ll talk to me, he thinks. Who’s visited you? Auba, my family, some coaches. How’s the family? Good, as always.
Robert leaves with a sinking feeling in his chest. He takes the steps slowly as he exits.
—
pielover3141
HOLY SHIT ROBERT LEWANDOWSKI IS IN MY FLOWER SHOP
He’s getting something for a friend who’s sick
{Image attached: 361KB}
| lewynine9 > pielover3141
| is this real? the team is on a flight back to munich right now
|| theoryofl0ve > lewynine9
|| I havent seen Robert in any of the instagram pictures so far so maybe hes just staying in Dortmund for a bit
||| eugfdjjfkg_0
||| heard from someplace else he didnt go back with the team for some reason
| pielover3141 > pielover3141
| Maybe he’s getting something for Marco! I’ll update on what flowers he chooses in a bit
|| brokewurst > pielover3141
|| you are all so parasocial, they clearly dont like each other stop inventing
||| hammertime44 > brokewurst
||| How do you know? They’ve never said anything about it AFAIK
|||| brokewurst > hammertime44
|||| come on did you see reus ignore his hug, not surprised if they do worse out of camera’s view
||||| hammertime44 > brokewurst
||||| YKW I’m not even gonna try argue with you, do you think they’re teenagers or what?
|| wet_bricks > pielover3141
|| wait that lines up perfectly haha, great to see that he and marco are still talking to each other
| questionmarc > pielover3141
| AHHHHHHHH update us op, what did he getttt
|| aussierained > questionmarc
|| If he walks out with a bunch of red roses theyre DEFINITELY for marco
||| casulato > aussierained
||| no mullerdowski on top
|| pielover3141 > pielover3141
|| UPDATE THIS IS GROUNDBREAKING
|| So he picked magnolia which is nobility, white chrysanthemums which is truth and blue salvia which means i think of you!
|| He wanted to write the card himself and I took a little glance at it… he wrote “For my friend Marco” and a little “Echte Liebe” as well AWW!
|| I can’t believe this happened to me omg am I dreaming??!
|| For the fillers and foliage I snuck in some romantic ones (I hope Marco notices)
|| Fern, which is secret bonds of love hahaha, and eucalyptus for strength!!
||| wet_bricks > pielover3141
||| AHHLAFJGKDJ pielover you are a LEGEND
||| questionmarc > pielover3141
||| OHMYGODDD THE CARD
—
As soon as Robert leaves, Marco’s head is in his hands, trying to cool his reddening face. He can’t stand the way Robert looks at him like that, like he’s trying. He’s not meant to try anymore.
Marco had tried to put something between them. Hey, it was 2012, then 2013, then now 2014, and still it’s career suicide to think about coming out. Even that time he had embarrassingly cried into Robert’s shoulder drunkenly was risky - if something slipped out about them visiting each other in the early hours of the morning, Marco couldn’t imagine what the tabloids would say. He’d been biting his nails for days, checking every device in the house for microphones or cameras.
The bouquet looks fresh. It’s beautiful, more than he deserves. When his sisters come over again to deliver those nice muesli bars he likes, they hand it to him so he can take a closer look at the flowers and look at the card. Melanie’s a hopeless romantic, so of course she searches up the meaning of the flowers. “It’s not really something I’d give to someone who was sick,” she comments offhandedly. “But it’s cute. And the salvia is sweet.”
“What does it mean?” Marco unwraps a muesli bar and bites into it like he’s not eaten for days.
“He’s thinking of you.”
Marco barely sleeps that night. He tosses and turns and thinks of Robert every time he switches sides.
—
8th January 2014
WHATSAPP
Mario Götze - Marco Reus
[11:02am]
MG: Are you gonna ask him
MR: yea
MR: i dont how what hes gonna say
MG: Hes a nice guy it wont be anything bad
MG: The way you two were off in your own world at training last season was crazy
MG: Footballs a tough world but i think you can do it
MR: guess so
MR: we will see
[11:09am]
MR: im scared mario
MR: theres so much that could go wrong
MG: My god
MG: Marco think for a second
MG: 10 years down the line maybe you have all of the titles and everything you think you want
MG: Would you regret not trying with him?
—
Robert opens the door to see Marco standing there, worrying his bottom lip, fiddling with his watch buttons.
“Hey! Come in,” he smiles. Marco gives a half-hearted one back but it drops immediately. “What’s up?”
“I needed to- um, I needed to tell you something. Or, I mean, talk to you.”
“Um, yeah, sure, come sit.” They take the chairs around the coffee table and Robert leans forward to take a sip of an espresso, obviously perplexed. “Coffee? Tea? Water?”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Mm.” Patiently, Robert waits, slowly drinking. Marco is getting more restless by the second, zoning out then snapping back to reality, touching both of his earrings, then touching his pocket to make sure no mysterious force had stolen his phone. He speaks as Robert puts the empty cup down.
“Do you remember what I said last Saturday?”
There’s a pause. “...Yes.”
“I meant it. I like you. And I want to try something with you.”
Robert sighs. His expression isn’t good. Marco’s heart drops- he’d sort of known this whole time, they could never be anything more. Yet it stings, no, it hurts. He thinks back to what Mario told him to reassure himself, that Robert’s nice, he wouldn’t change anything.
“I was scared of this. You have to understand, please. I think- I think I like you too, but I- my conscience wouldn’t let me do anything… Marco, I’m Catholic. I’ve thought about this so hard but I can’t love myself and love you at the same time.” He looks away, and Marco’s right hand balls up into a fist to stop his fingers from trembling. “In Poland, to do… this… this thing… with another man, doesn’t have the same meaning as in Germany. Even if we tried, my belief might abandon me- my country would abandon me.”
“We don’t have to tell anyone! I’ll be patient with you! We don’t have to do everything all at once, we can move however fast or slow you want…”
“I tried before, with another man. I couldn’t. I hated myself, I can’t put myself through it again.”
“Please, I’ve wanted you for years, even before I joined Dortmund, hell, can you spare me even a week?”
“Sorry Marco.” He looks at him with the gentlest look, almost like a lover.
“Won’t you- won’t you regret not trying?”
“We can try all we want, but… I won’t be truly happy with a man.”
Robert doesn’t have to kick Marco out. He walks out by himself. As soon as the door closes, the air in the living room feels heavier. He trudges to his room and looks at the dog-tag on the table, picking it up and digging his nails into the feathers of the metal wings. If he closes his eyes tightly, he can see Marco’s eyes, cunning and sharp and lovable.
“Lord, give me strength.”
—
17th November 2014
WHATSAPP
Robert Lewandowski - Marco Reus
[2:57pm]
RL: Can I come again?
MR: ok
—
Robert shakily walks up the stairs. The florist was even happier to see him today. Good to meet a fan, he thinks. As he enters, Marco is sleeping and Mats is sitting next to the bed on his phone. Robert tenses up momentarily.
“Hey,” Mats says, smile widening when he sees the flowers and bear. “Oh, that’s nice. He said the ones you gave yesterday were sweet. His family took them back to the house.”
“I- ah, thanks.” He blushes and puts the flowers and bear down in the same spot and stands next to Mats. “How is he doing?”
Mats shrugs. “He didn’t sleep too well last night. In a few minutes I’ll wake him up. Stay?”
The conversation flows a little easier with him. Robert sits down as well and fiddles with the metal of the bedframe, sometimes glancing at the peaceful face on the bed. Mats shows him a funny post about dogs.
The curiosity gnaws at him. “Does Marco talk about me often?”
“What, after you left?”
“Yeah… I mean, for the first few months he did, mostly to Auba. I think it calmed down a bit after that. Now it’s not so often but for a week before Der Klassiker he was getting a bit antsy.”
“What did he say?”
“Maybe ask him that later. Here, I’ll wake him up.”
Robert feels his face starting to burn as Mats gently shakes Marco’s arm. “Hey, wake up, you have another visitor.”
“Mmm…” His eyebrows furrow, he drags himself to sit up and Robert has the pleasure of watching the expression on his face morph between confusion and surprise. “Robert?”
“Hi.”
“When did you come?”
“10 minutes ago.”
“Oh, sorry for falling asleep.”
“It’s ok. You look tired. Are you feeling any better?”
“Um, a bit.” Marco reaches for his hand, grabbing his fingers. Robert feels like there’s something he wants to say, but after a few more seconds there’s nothing. Abruptly, Mats stands up. “Guys, I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back later.”
For a whole minute, Marco only inspects his hand, flipping it around, running his warm fingers along the creases of his palm as Robert shivers. Then he drops it, and looks straight into his eyes. “You know I missed you? A lot?”
Robert’s heart picks up and the little spark of hope that had been floating around his chest for 6 months, that him and Marco could still be something special, that he had tried to extinguish, had been kindled into a little fire. He didn’t know exactly what it was about him. Maybe the way he’d laugh, buckling over if he was standing and grabbing someone if not, or the way he’d touch his hair, rearranging it every hour even with the amount of product he put in it, or the way he’d fidget, bouncing his leg or running his hand over his face.
“No, but I missed you too.” It was the truth. Marco had done a good job at hiding it. Wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t even hug him back. And Robert had opened his eyes as wide as they would go to try stop thinking about him in the dark countless times
“Good.”
Instinctively, Robert stands up, thighs leaning on the metal bedframe, reaching over and wrapping Marco in a hug who lets his unkempt hair tickle his neck. “This unstyled hair is rare for you.”
“Hm, maybe you should’ve brought mousse then,” he laughs.
“No, it looks g- it looks fine this way too.”
They talk. Mats, after 10 minutes, comes back and lets out a random sigh of relief. It feels natural again just like those times in the locker room, between drills on the pitch, in one of their teammates’ cars, crammed in a plane. Colour seems to come back to Marco’s face, his ears a rosy pink, and Robert’s chair gradually shuffles closer and closer to the bed. Mats leaves half an hour later with an excuse about being ‘hungry enough to eat all of the gift baskets Marco’s ever gotten’.
Robert checks the time eventually. It’s nearly 4pm. “I have to go. I’m flying back to Munich soon.”
“Ah, ok. Go then, have a safe flight.” Marco extends his hand for their handshake. “Thanks for coming.”
“It’s been good.” He lingers a bit and Marco is about to call one of the coaches to talk more about the recovery plan when he’s suddenly grabbed by the shoulder and a frantic kiss is put onto his lips. “I’m sorry!”
Like a flash of light, Robert is out of the room and Marco is left wondering what happened, hands shaking.
—
17th November 2014
WHATSAPP
Robert Lewandowski - Marco Reus
[4:02pm]
RL: I’m sorry
RL: It didn’t mean anything
RL: I spared you two days and I couldn’t do more
RL: You deserve someone who can love you fully
MR: ??
MR: its not the same
MR: will you regret not trying
MR: enough??
—
pielover3141
ROBERT RETURNED TO THE SHOP
OH MY GOD
He got the same arrangement as yesterday!
He also picked up a yellow teddy bear (AWW)! I think this one is for Marco again! Here’s what the bear looks like
| hammertime44 > pielover3141
| Oooh it does sound like it’s for Marco again lol
|| aussierained > hammertime44
|| but he gave marco flowers yesterday what if theyre NOT for him
||| lewynine9 > aussierained
||| probably for someone else
|||| wet_bricks > lewynine9
|||| but the yellow teddy… its definitely for marco ADSJGGFGKK
—
17th November 2014
WHATSAPP
Mario Götze - Marco Reus
[4:52pm]
MG: Is robert with you
MR: he was but he left an hour ago
MR: i think hes going to the airport
MG: Ok thank god
MG: The team needs him back for training
MG: We didnt know how long he was planning to stay in dortmund
MR: cool
MG: Im kinda surprised he even managed to skip one
MG: He has been suuuuper busy lately
—
Marco chucks his phone to the side, sinking down on the bed and trying to block out the cold lights with his forearm over his eyes. He laid there, lying to himself and telling himself that the fact that Robert was going was fine. What would happen now? They would go back to their teams, see each other in 3 months and smile, see each other in 6 months and he would start thinking about Robert every fortnight instead of every week, in 9 months they would give each other a pat on the back, and in a year he would stop thinking about him altogether.
He’d seen the dogtags. They had little wings on them. He could see that Robert would fly high, higher than anyone could ever imagine, and he’d hope to follow with his wings patched together by candlewax. He tries shifting his ankle again.
—
25th April 2014
WHATSAPP
Robert Lewandowski - Marco Reus
[1:35pm]
MR: just saw your car!!! looks good bro
RL: Hahaha thanks!
RL: Love ferrari ;)
—
Robert plucks the shining card from under the wiper of the car. “Marco?” He mutters.
He squints to make out the text from under the glaring sun. “For my friend Robert. Fuck Bayern.” He flips it around and stands in the middle of the street.
“Will you regret not trying?”