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In the last minute of stoppage time the corner throw goes towards Cubarsi’s head and straight into the goal. It’s beautiful. It’s everything he could have wanted for his friend. His Cubarsi just scored the winning goal 1 minute before they would have had to go into overtime.
Lamine sees the exact moment Pau registers that the ball went in. Sees the excitement light up his whole face. Sees him start to run toward- toward Marc Bernal.
Lamine’s face drops for a millisecond before he remembers the cameras. His best friend just scored a goal, and someone will definitely notice if he gets caught frowning. So he plasters his smile on and jogs back to his starting position to finish out the last seconds of the game.
Cubarsi clearly wants to celebrate his goal with someone else. That’s fine. Lamine doesn’t really care. And if his skin itches from the absence of the hug that should have been his. Well, that’s nobody else's business.
—
He’s acting weird after the game. He hasn’t said a word. Everyone is celebrating Barca’s win, clapping Pau on the back for his last-minute goal. He knows it’s only a matter of time before someone picks up on it. Wonders why he’s being such a buzzkill. He should swallow it and congratulate his friend- no, his best friend. But Pau looks so happy over there without him anyway, so what’s the point?
Pau looks up, and they lock eyes for a second. His smile flickers and a look of concern passes through his eyes. Lamine quickly looks away and goes to take a nice long shower. He can scrub off whatever mood he’s in and send Cuba a text after everyone’s left and push the whole thing from his mind. Yeah, that’s a great plan.
—
Except when he walks back into the locker area, Cuba is the only one left. He’s typing on his phone with a small smile until he looks up and sees Lamine.
“Hey.” Cuba looks a little shy when he says it. Lamine looks at him for a second before going over to his locker and beginning to gather his things. “Hey.”
There are a few minutes of silence between them. Just the sounds of rustling as Lamine puts things in his gym bag.
“Why are you being weird?” Cuba’s voice sounds a lot closer than it was before, and when Lamine turns around, he’s right there.
“I’m not being weird,” Lamine responds. Cuba scoffs. “Yes, you are. I scored the winning goal, and you haven’t said a thing to me since.”
“Sure I did. Maybe you just couldn’t hear it from so far away while you were celebrating with Marc.” Lamine hadn’t meant to say that.
“What? While I was…” Pau is silent for a few minutes while he tries to figure out what that was supposed to mean. Lamine tries to walk toward the door, but a hand closing around his wrist stops him.
“Lamine, is that why you’ve been so moody? Cause I hugged Marc after my goal?”
“No. Who says I’m being moody?”
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous!” But he still hasn’t turned around to face his friend. Suddenly Pau’s arms are around Lamine’s waist, and his head is in the crook of his neck. Pau huffs lightly, and his breath makes the hair on Lamine's neck stand up.
“I thought you were mad that I stole the spotlight from you.” Lamine suddenly turns around at that, and squeezes Cubarsi right back.
“What? No! I would never even think that.” He pulls away and cups Cubarsi’s face in his hands. “You’re MY golden boy, Cuba. Don’t you ever get that twisted.” There's a pause as they both just look at each other.
“I just...” Lamine groans. “I just couldn’t stand that-” he cuts himself off and whispers the next part, “That you would want to celebrate with Marc more than me. That he’s replaced me as your best friend. I watched your interview. I know you said he is.” Pau grimaces as the words leave his mouth. Lamine looks down and tries to escape Pau’s grasp, but Pau’s grip only grows tighter.
“Lamine, wait. Marc is my best friend, okay.” Hurt flashes across Lamine’s face, and he struggles harder against Pau’s hold. Desperate not to cry and make this night more embarrassing than it already was, but the next words out of Cuba’s mouth stop him in his tracks. “But you are so much more to me than that.” And then suddenly Cuba is kissing him. Lamine stands there frozen. It takes him so long to process what has just happened that Pau is already pulling away, stammering apologies and getting out of his space.
“I’m sorry, you probably hate me now. We can just pretend it didn’t happen, okay? Let’s just go back to being best friends. I shouldn’t have hoped-” and then Lamine crosses into Pau’s space and smashes their faces right back together.
Lamine pulls away from the kiss with the biggest grin of the night since he saw Pau score. “It was a beautiful goal, you know? All I wanted to do was run over and kiss you everywhere I could reach. I think that’s why it hurt so much when I thought you would rather be with someone else.”
Pau kisses Lamine again. Shorter and sweeter than before. Lacking the desperation from the kiss that neither of them knew had been long awaited. “You’re an idiot if you think I wasn’t devastated when I didn’t feel your weight on my back. And then I thought you were mad at me. I didn’t know if you wanted me to come over to you.”
They steal another kiss. “Next time I’m not giving anyone the chance to even think about hugging you first.”
“Next time you’ll be the first person I run over to.”
—
Lamine dreams when he falls asleep that night. He dreams of Cuba scoring that header, and instead of getting caught up in his jealousy, he runs straight over and tackles his friend best friend boyfriend to the ground before Marc can ever get his grubby hands on him. When Pau rolls over and flashes him with a radiant smile, Lamine leans over and kisses him right there on the field in front of everyone.