Chapter Text
Closer Than a Brother
“Olise! Catch.”
Mbappé tapped the ball and it flew neatly through the air, stopping at the feet of an athletic young man with shoulder-length locs and a shy smile.
The French players were warming up for their UEFA Nations League fixtures in late September. Autumn was all around them, and the colours of the changing leaves were a fiery, kaleidoscopic background to their training session.
It felt beyond good to be back with their countrymen so soon after the World Cup.
Although most of the year they were divided into clubs that spent the vast majority of time playing against each other, it didn't diminish the affection they had for each other. This team had really clicked– some pairings had even taken off and made World Cup history earlier in the year.
Mbappé smiled fondly as he watched Michael and Doué pass the ball back and forth, laughing.
He had once been like that, he thought quietly. Young and carefree, fresh-faced and innocent. Ready to throw himself without a second thought into whatever adventure would come his way. Ready to love and be loved, and to give everything he had.
Everything.
He had jumped into his adventure at 18 years old, and fallen right into Neymar Jr's arms.
Now as he reflected, he thought both his lucky and his evil star had been working on the day PSG had approached him. His big break turned out to be both good and bad news: a two-edged sword that gave him all the joy at once, only to almost kill him with the pain of its second keen cut.
Neymar’s unreserved affection was more than the teenage Mbappé had hoped to receive for his service.
He'd been brought into PSG to help a brilliant star to shine. It had felt like a dream to be loved by the star; it had swept him off his feet. It had made him dizzy, had made him sick: had made him question how it was possible to love someone so much it almost felt painful?
Three blissful years of this– how could it be real? How could it last forever?
Kylian Mbappé Lottin wished now that he had been more reserved: that he hadn't so innocently– so foolishly– given the whole of his heart to a man who already had so many hearts littered at his feet.
He'd once looked at Neymar the way Olise looked at him. He recognised the adoring gaze, the innocent admiration. He remembered what it was like to be on the other side looking up to someone you idolised. How incredible it felt to even be near someone you wanted to be like so badly. The awe you felt at being positioned to play alongside them; the privilege, the pressure, the butterflies, the hope, the soaring joy when the partnership took off into immediate success.
The dream that became reality…
Sometimes he wondered just how his dream partnership with the Brazilian had turned into a nightmare he had fled from. How a marriage made in heaven had crashed into a hell of blame and abuse that had left him sobbing alone too many nights to count.
The chaos had slowly ramped up, until the emotional wreckage had become almost unbearable.
Fingers had been pointed, and the two players had been constantly pitted against each other by the press and by their fans. Football was an emotional sport... Not less for the players than for the fans. The chaos of fall-out all became so noisy.
So heavy.
When it had been just the two of them, Kylian had been in perpetual heaven. But things change… Teams change, dynamics change– people change, and drift away. Kylian should have realised it would happen to him sooner or later.
His teenage dream came crashing down around his ears, and it felt too late to save the relationship that had coloured the most intense years of his life.
Mistakes were made that were hard to rectify. Words were spoken, shouted, screamed, that left a mark, and were hard to kiss away. They had both betrayed each other, and it grew harder and harder to return to what they had been.
I just want things to go back to the way they were.
I do too, mon cher… But it can't happen. You know as well as I do. We have to work with the players around us now.
You mean with Leo.
Yes, with Leo. And with Hakimi, your new best friend.
Ney, don't say that. Don't replace yourself.
I haven't. You have.
Only because you replaced me first!
Leo was first habibi. Why are you so jealous?
I'm not jealous.
...Sometimes I forget how young you are.
Mbappé sighed, thinking over the thread of one of their first arguments, and how petty it seemed now that he was more mature.
It hadn't seemed to matter to Neymar at all back then that he was seven years Mbappé's elder.
Sometimes he acted more like a child in their relationship than Mbappé did. Kylian was taller and broader than Ney- he looked like the older one, and often acted like it, being many times more mature than his age, while the nearly 30-year-old Neymar still acted like a child. Ney was always the innocent one; the victim; the baby. He always enjoyed being babied rather than babying: and Kylian couldn't help but fall in line with Neymar's every wish.
Now that Kylian was 27, he wondered if he would have acted differently in Ney’s place. If he, at 29, was faced with a 22-year-old talented young player, a player who was brought in to help him shine but was slowly becoming the star himself…
Watching Olise, Kylian realised that he didn't ever want Michael to feel the way he had felt at the end of his relationship with Neymar.
He remembered the long nights he'd spent awake wondering if he'd loved Neymar too hard, too fast, too long. Maybe Ney had felt he was suffocating, and had shifted his gaze to Leo to escape from him.
Kylian had lain awake, tortured by the idea that his love had been the problem.
That he was the problem.
That maybe Neymar had never really loved him at all…
With their relationship on the rocks, it was easy to believe anything, to entertain any kind of idea.
Of course Ney had loved him.
But the Brazilian had loved so many others too, whereas Kylian had only ever blindly loved him… Believing he would be different. He wouldn't join the wreckage of hearts littered at the charming Brazilian's talented little feet.
Clingy was how Ney described him. But Neymar had clung to him too... Had clung to him first. Had showered him with affectionate touches, glances, kisses and hugs that lasted and felt so, so good. Why did that have to change? Kylian couldn't understand. They were so good together. On and off the pitch, they were magic.
Mbappé had a loyal streak a mile wide– loyalty, reliability, integrity - qualities that only seemed to amuse Neymar. Kylian was the kind of person who could happily stick to one person for the rest of his life if given the opportunity.
That's just who he was.
Whereas Neymar… was a lover, who found it unnecessary and tiring to remain constantly faithful. He liked being fought over, liked to tease and make his lovers jealous. He liked it a lot. And more than doing it, he liked to talk about it– to brag about his conquests.
It made Kylian sick to think that he had been one of those conquests.
Mbappé found it amazing now that a few years had passed, that he and Neymar had been so close, so intensely close, differing so much as they did in their core characteristics.
But one thing he never did was regret the time they spent together. No matter how hard things got, he cherished the memories of their joy, love and laughter. He cherished them, because Neymar meant so much to him.
It was difficult to remember, though, when things were falling apart. In the heat of the moment, it was easier just to escape.
Following France's crushing World Cup final defeat in Qatar in 2022, and the heavy disappointment of PSG's 3-1 loss to rivals Lens on New Year's day– less than 2 weeks after Kylian's 24th birthday– Mbappé had gone to the manager with his head feeling like it was about to cave in, and asked for a few days' reprieve.
He'd gone straight to Hakimi when the manager had agreed to give the two players ten days off.
“I need to get away. I can't take this anymore. Paris is too much–”
Hakimi had grabbed his hand and gazed up at him with soulful, deeply concerned eyes. His naturally calm demeanor gave a shaky Kylian a much needed anchor of stability. He felt himself decompress as he looked down into the eyes of his friend.
“Okay. Where?” Hakimi had asked simply, raising his thick brows and holding eye contact.
Kylian almost smiled. Achraf was so willing to get up and go anywhere at a word. He was loyal, reliable– a friend that stuck closer than a brother…
Kylian puffed out his cheeks and shrugged with a heavy sigh, glancing around. “I don't know. America?” he replied with a slight laugh. “The further, the better.”
“How about New York?” Achraf suggested, a bright twinkle in his eye. He cocked his head, his thick eyebrows inching higher as a hopeful look stole into his expression.
That look had settled it. Mbappé and Hakimi had packed and flown out the next day. Kylian couldn't be happier to escape from the pressure cooker that Paris was becoming. To escape from the mess with Neymar… The toxic environment was suffocating him, depleting his joy, draining his boyish happiness.
And he honestly loved spending time with Achraf, his twin.
Born only a month apart, their dynamic often felt like they were twinning. The two of them found endless subjects to gossip about, and to laugh over. Endless games to play, music to share, food to enjoy together. They'd often stay up talking about anything and everything late into the night.
The Moroccan was in many ways the opposite of the Brazilian that had once been so firmly ensconced in his place.
Achraf seemed shy and introverted, and with many people he was. He wasn't loud and explosive like Neymar; at least, not on the surface– not at first. Hakimi was quiet and observant, it was true, but Mbappé soon realised that it wasn't a bad thing. Achraf had a quiet confidence. He didn't feel the need to perform like an extrovert, or to live, laugh, and love out loud on the world's stage. He kept his heart cautiously hidden when you first met him, rather than wearing it on his sleeve.
Luckily for Mbappé, he could handle both types of personalities. He looked over at Olise chatting to Doué in perfect French, and smiled fondly.
The introverted characters were just as warm as the extroverts, once you got to know them. Sometimes, in some ways, even more so.
And for Mbappé, the one quality he loved the most about introverts, was their loyalty. Once trust and friendship were earned, they were earned for life.
And now that he knew what it felt like to have his heart torn away and ripped into pieces at the breaking up of an intense friendship, he would be more careful to keep the friends that cared enough to stick with him close, and to love them no less fiercely.
Like with Olise, Kylian had been able to tease a nervous Hakimi out of himself. He'd found beneath the surface, just like with Olise, a comical young man with a beautiful, infectious smile who loved to pull jokes and to laugh.
Achraf had arrived in mid-2021, around the same time as Leo - and Kylian looked on him now as a Godsend. The arrival of Messi at the club drastically changed the dynamic between Kylian and Ney, and love slowly began to sour as envy trickled in.
Kylian was glad now that he had clicked almost immediately with the Moroccan despite the language barrier. Achraf hadn't understood a word of French at their first meeting– Kylian had run down the stairs and crashed right into him, blurting out a hello speech, only to be met with a frankly confused face.
Still, something in the Moroccan's gentle face and friendly eye had touched Kylian's love-worn heart. He'd known then and there that Hakimi was someone he wanted to spend time getting to know. And as they'd spent time together on and off the pitch, Mbappé had taught Hakimi to speak fluent French, and the Moroccan in turn had helped him improve his Spanish.
On the pitch, they'd fallen into a natural rhythm. Sergio Ramos, ever the observer, had sensed Kylian's need for friendship during his messy break-up, and had tactfully gravitated over to the pair of them, becoming the big brother in their trio.
Off the pitch, the two of them had spent countless hours doing almost all the things he'd done with Ney– playing video games, shopping, chatting, watching movies, and bonding…
They'd realised how much they had in common, and by it, just how much they really liked each other. Kylian had quickly realised that this bonding was helping him heal from the confusion and hurt he felt through the painful breaking down of his relationship with Neymar. The affection he felt for Hakimi was real - and since Neymar was drifting away, all the love Kylian had to give had to go somewhere. The Moroccan was genuinely pleased that it all went to him. How it made Neymar feel was clear when Kylian caught him watching them with a frown and jealous eyes.
Well, Neymar only had himself to blame, Kylian thought.
For a while, Kylian had been bitter at Leo, wondering why he had even come - but it was hard to hate him when he admired his skill and learned so much from him too. Now that he was older, and had been through more, he felt that he understood Leo better.
But in early 2023 the bitterness had been strong. Kylian felt himself breathing easier as the plane from France had sped them to New York. In the streets of America's most famous city, he'd let himself forget about Paris and the problems that awaited his return…
New York was beautiful, and the distance from Europe made it even more so.
The Atlantic was between him and the tension within the team, the misunderstandings that never seemed to be ironed out, the lingering back and forth of make-up and break-up with Ney…
He started to enjoy the trip so much that the sudden texts from Neymar were a shock to his system. They brought him unwillingly back down to earth with a jerk.
The texts pinged through at midnight, when he and Achraf were wandering the streets that never slept, hooded and masked to avoid general recognition.
His heart had lurched in his chest when he'd checked the notification. A wave of nausea had threatened to down him on the icy street, but somehow, he had kept his head, and had responded as calmly as he could.
Neymar was obviously drunk.
He only texted Mbappé now when he was inebriated, or full of regret after picking a fight. These days he consistently argued with Kylian in front of the whole team, and then texted him late at night to reconcile. Sometimes he showed up at his door in the middle of the night, and left before the morning's light... It was as though he was actively trying to twist the knife deeper and deeper into Mbappé's heart.
This break-up was hard enough as it was. Why couldn't he see that?
Can we talk?
Right now isn't a good time.
Mbappé had texted back as furtively as he could. Achraf was unnervingly quick to pick up on the actions of those in his surroundings unless he was well distracted - it was part of what made him an invaluable team player. It was always so difficult to get anything past him. Mbappé knew the Moroccan would notice his wavering attention soon.
Guess you're with Hakimi enjoying the big apple 🍏 And not missing me like I miss you
Ney… What is it that you want?
You. Obviously. My golden boy.
You already have a golden boy...
Psshttt. Using Hakimi to get to me isn't cute. Come back to me menino de ouro
I'M NOT USING HIM.
It should be ME with you right now, not him, and you KNOW IT
The conversation had continued to the point of agony; to the point where Mbappé had started swallowing back hot, angry, heartbroken tears and brushing them away, pretending the chill was getting to him. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't fool Achraf.
“Kylian? Are you okay?” He turned to find the large, dark, concerned eyes of his friend locked on him. “You've been quiet.”
Kylian tried to nod and smile, finding his voice a little too slowly. “Yeah. Of course. It's just cold standing here.”
They had moved off, but Achraf had continued looking closely at him, unconvinced.
“Are you crying?” he asked quietly, moving nearer and wrapping a supportive arm around Kylian's waist.
“I'm okay,” the Frenchman tried to protest, but a gloved hand found its way to Mbappé's cheek and turned his face so that Achraf could see him clearly. The Moroccan blinked as they made eye contact. Understanding swept through the expressive eyes.
“So that's who you were texting,” he murmured. Hakimi stopped walking and pulled Kylian into a tight hug then and there, in the middle of the bustling midnight streets of New York.
Kylian hadn't fought it; he'd folded. He'd allowed himself to rest his tired head on Hakimi’s shoulder. Achraf hugged his head and rubbed warmth into his upper back. Wrapping his arms around the waist of his friend, Mbappé allowed himself to be held and his tears to flow.
Of course Hakimi had noticed him texting.
The Moroccan was perceptive and, as Kylian had grown to find, extremely sensitive.
Of course he'd connected the dots.
Standing there, crying onto his shoulder, Mbappé was glad that he had been gifted a friend like Achraf Hakimi.
Only moments before Neymar's text, they'd taken a happy selfie with H&M high in the background– the initials of their last names.
A shadow fell over Mbappé's face as he thought of how he and Neymar had almost gotten matching tattoos of their initials at one point… He shuddered in remembrance.
Love-crazy and wild, he'd been influenced to dye his hair by Neymar, but he was glad now that he'd managed to resist the charismatic Brazilian's highly persuasive rhetoric to get matching tattoos on their hips. N&K. Small, tucked away, secret.
But Mbappé had stuck to his guns - he'd always had an aversion to tattoos, and even the heavily tattooed Neymar couldn't shift him.
Somehow his principles had been stronger than the pressure that would have led him to a decision he'd only have regretted later, when they were no longer friendly with each other. When a secret tattoo would have eaten away at him and aggravated his broken heart.
The same principles had kept him from playing devil's advocate, and promoting companies and industries he didn't agree with. Fast food, alcohol, gambling, betting… Kylian refused to be seen promoting brands that he felt hurt more than they helped, that he felt destroyed people's lives. Twisting a trophy so a logo couldn't be seen. Refusing sponsorships with fast food giants. Instead, he used his money to set up and support organisations that helped make lives better. Building clinics in Africa. Giving underprivileged kids the chance to see the world and have opportunities he never had.
Doing something for positive change.
Refusing to be paid for representing his country, and instead donating his pay to charitable organisations.
That's just who he was.
Kicking the ball to Olise, Kylian remembered just how much Neymar had made him cry during that period of change. He'd made him as sad as he'd been happy. As low as he'd been high.
But for Achraf being there to pick up the pieces, Mbappé wondered what would have happened to him.
Pairing up with Olise for goal scoring exercises, he remembered the conversations that saved him. The words that had picked him up when his mental health was near total wreck.
“It's too bad for him,” Hakimi had shrugged with a smile, late one night curled up on the sofa beside Mbappé. “He'll never know just what it is that he lost.”
He'd made Kylian smile through his tears, and had helped ease the pain of aching loss. The Moroccan had wiped away every one of his tears, his words heartfelt and sweet.
“He'll never realise the kind of love he threw away as though it meant nothing. Well, his loss is my gain,” Hakimi laughed, pulling Kylian into a tight hug and rocking him from side to side, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.
Kylian buried his face in Achraf’s shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.
Somehow, it felt like God had given him the most loyal of friends at the right time. And for Hakimi’s unwavering friendship, he was immensely grateful– would ever be grateful.
He felt silly for needing a close one-on-one friendship, a special bond that wasn't shared with anyone else, but he felt like he just couldn't function without one in his life. He'd thought Neymar was it-- thought he was everything he'd been looking for.
Realising that he wasn't the most important person in Ney's life had thrown Kylian into freefall. Three years of passion and obsession with each other all flew out of the window when an even older friend appeared on the scene... An even more important friend than Kylian.
Kylian couldn't compete with Messi. He wouldn't compete with him for Ney's undivided attention. Neymar knew that with him, it was all or nothing. But now that he was older, he wondered if should have tried harder…
Achraf's simple adoration alone had saved him when he found himself deserted and alone on the island he and Ney had built.
“One man’s trash,” Kylian had shrugged, sighing brokenly.
“You are not trash, my friend,” Achraf disagreed, whispering into Kylian's ear. “Never let anyone tell you that you're trash. It's a lie. Don't ever tell yourself that.”
Pulling back, he held Kylian's sad gaze, and had poured out a speech that had taken the Frenchman by surprise. “You're a treasure. You are one of a kind, unique, special in every way. Big hearted, loyal, reliable, kind, goofy… and so funny. I couldn't have gotten luckier to have a best friend like you. I don't take it for granted. I'm blessed, really blessed.”
Mbappé almost blushed to replay the sincere words of the Moroccan in his mind, but it made him smile from the heart knowing he was so deeply loved.
A friend closer than a brother… A brother born for adversity that loved him at all times.
He passed the ball to Olise wondering what he'd done to get so lucky.
With Achraf he felt like they were equals. The Moroccan teased him that in actuality, he was the older twin, being nearly 2 months older. Still, sometimes Kylian found that Achraf looked at him the way he'd looked at Ney. Sometimes he treated him the way he'd treated Neymar. Randomly reaching over to pick a speck of grass off his face, showing how he closely scrutinised him. Unwrapping a bar and letting him take the first bite: completely unfazed by sharing food and drinking from the same bottle. An unprovoked kiss or hug, showing how comfortable he felt with Kylian. A head laid affectionately on his shoulder with a whispered, “Je t'aime.”
They'd since shared so many experiences and holidays, culture and countries, that they'd become like family, yet closer than brothers.
Michael shot the ball past the keeper and into the back of the net with ease. The young man turned to him with a bright smile, looking for his approval, and Kylian couldn't help but grin back and double high-five him. Pulling Olise into a quick hug, he gave him a cheerful word of encouragement.
“Ah Michael! You've been working on your finishing. Tres bien.”
Michael's reply was shy and quiet, but the young man was clearly pleased. As Mbappé watched him line up for another attempt at goal, his hands on his hips, he smiled softly.
The friendship and love, the passion and kindness. All of the good from both relationships– he knew now what he wanted to do with his experiences.
He would pay it forward.
To filter out the negativity and give back flowers… It wasn't easy to do.
He'd been through so much, and gained and lost so much, but wisdom it turned out, was the after-effect.
Kylian Mbappé Lottin knew now that a phoenix only rises out of ashes.
Out of the mess of broken friendship had risen the kind of loyal kinship he almost stopped hoping for. Hakimi had shown him that it wasn't impossible.
And now he realised that if his money could help pay it forward for young people to have a legacy and a future - then maybe his affectionate leadership, his life could lead by example… if it could lead to Olise, and Doué, and the other players who he had any influence over doing the same when their time came - so that another fresh-faced 18-year-old Kylian could feel that he had made the right choice in life…
Well, every experience, all the heartbreak and laughter, and pain and love, every second, every moment, would have been worth it all. Making mistakes, growing, moving forward, trying to be better than he was yesterday…
He took a deep breath, and admired the colours of the changing leaves on the trees around the training ground.
The fiery, kaleidoscopic background of life and death reminded him of how fiercely he had loved Neymar, and of how fiercely Ney had loved him. How the bright intensity of their love meant that their fighting wounded them both deeply. The leaves were beautiful, but they were dying, and would soon be laid to rest, just like his relationship with the Brazilian. Neither of them were angry at each other any more, but to see one another and to reconcile would take time... If ever they got the chance.
In his heart of hearts, Kylian hoped the day would come. He didn't want things to remain the way they were, and in the media, he'd continually extend the olive branch, hoping Neymar would eventually pick up on it and come back to him. If only he could humble his pride to speak to Kylian... To remember how young he had been, and how desperately the teenager had loved him.
Somehow, he knew it wasn't over.
Maybe Ney would surprise him, walk up behind him and wrap him in one of those clingy hugs - call him golden boy one more time. Or maybe he would see him approach, and he'd run up and jump into his arms like he used to do...
The leaves may die, but the new year would bring rebirth. New hope. New life. New experiences. New challenges to face. But no challenge would he ever face alone - new friendships had grown out of the death of old relationships, and new friendships were constantly being planted and growing in his life. He couldn't wait to see how they turned out.
Looking back over the experiences of his life so far, Kylian saw that there wasn't a moment of his messy, fun, happy, heart-breaking life that he would change.
So much had already passed, but he was only 27. There was still so much to come...
* * *
(When)
(Becomes)
(We Get)
(And Doué & Yamal, twins of the divorce) 🩷❤️🩷