Work Text:
2016
it gnawed away at marco every waking moment.
non waking, too. no matter what he tried, he just couldn’t get rid of these few words that hung suspended in his heart, eating against his mind and body. every aspect of robert lewandowski’s existence in his life would rise up to taunt him whenever he was reminded of the pole.
of course, mario was the first one to notice it. one night, after a particularly grueling training session, he confronted him. not really about anything specifically, just asking if something was wrong, as good friends did. good friends that leave the club that brought them up and then come back just to witness their teammate grovel every day about something that happened two years ago. and marco had lashed out at him in the cold, empty parking lot, white lights shining in his eyes and cold air stinging his face. it was angry and bitter and resentful and mario deserved none of it, but his face was the last thing he had wanted to see. that night, the thoughts pounded in his head. he woke up after falling asleep at an ungodly hour with a searing headache and no desire to get up and face his teammates- mario especially- whatsoever.
it must have been from then when everybody else starting noticing, too. marco could feel their concerned eyes on him when he ran drills, or at lunch where he wallowed in apologetic looks from mario and auba and hated himself for ever saying that shit to him and hated mario for being so… forgiving. as if all he’d done was ruin his shirt or something and not call him a bitch. all his days felt mundane and he felt useless to the team, too. why didn’t they just drop him?
~
he’s reminded of it by łukasz. he absolutely didn’t need it, though; the date had been emblazoned into his mind the day schedules came out. it had been haunting marco’s thoughts for weeks now, looming behind all the cardboard walls he’d tried to set up in ignorance of his fear. and all he could do was pray that him and robert wouldn’t have to interact, at least off the pitch. but if god is real, he surely wasn’t on marco’s side.
the days before the derby, marco throws himself into training whenever and however he can. extra drills, discussing tactics, staying late- anything to win. but he knows in the back of his mind that winning isn’t the only reason for his fervent efforts- he’s just willing to devote all his time to anything that keeps him distracted from robert. but still, he wakes up to robert’s voice and falls asleep to what he remembers of his touch. it’s gentle and warm and carries memories from a time when marco really believed that robert loved him and would never leave. it carries the elated feeling of finally finding somebody that understood him so well on the pitch, but somehow even better off of it. it carries with it the whispered words ‘i love you’, a soft kiss on his tearstained face, and the muted footsteps of a man leaving his lover and walking out the door. forever.
the night before, marco is plagued with dreams. not nightmares exactly, but rather worse for him. every single one revolves around robert, whether he’s driving him home in the rain or sneaking him glances at lunch or stroking his hair in bed after a rough loss until he falls asleep from exhaustion. marco wakes up with dried streaks from tears running down his cheeks. he halfheartedly convinces himself they’re from the nerves.
before he leaves, marco checks the news and is met with a pre-game analysis of both sides before kickoff, and the first thing he sees is him and robert’s faces plastered on the front page. they’re wondering how the two will put up on the pitch, if they’ll have some effect on each other or not, with their close previous relationship and whatnot. oh, to be as oblivious as some shitty european reporter. he puts his phone down quickly and walks to his car in a trance-like state. the drive from his flat to the training grounds fades from irrelevancy in his mind, and he gets there before most everybody and starts warming up. by the time mario arrives, he’s already covered in sweat and panting from the intense exercise.
when mario arrives, he gives him a quizzical look. “jesus marco, you look horrible. did you even sleep last night?”
marco gives him a subtle nod, hoping mario would get the hint. and he does, as always. he just presses his lips into a straight line, and leaves him be.
the bus ride to signal iduna park is short, but every meter closer to it, marco can feel himself get more nervous.
when they get there, he hurries off the bus and into the dressing room. once he’s ready, he just sits on the bench, consumed in thought.
too soon, they’re lining up in the brightly lit tunnel, and right before the players enter the pitch, mario comes bounding up to him and gives marco a hug.
“good luck, marco. i believe-“ he’s cut off by a referee pushing him back to his place. marco flashes him a quick smile before he turns around. he feels like he’s about to be sick, robert is only a few steps away-
the line abruptly begins moving, and marco almost trips over his own feet in an effort to keep up. by the time kickoff is being counted down, the atmosphere of the arena and the pressure of being so close to robert is seriously taking a toll on him. but marco knows how important this match is, and steels his nerves the best he can. and they start.
~
the match ends in a 0-0 draw. marco kept trying to avoid robert the best he can, so naturally, he plays kinda shit, but he can’t be bothered because he really did avoid robert well. after the match, he takes a quick cold shower before throwing on the first clothes he found in his bag and just sitting, trying not to think about robert but obviously, trying isn’t enough. he just contemplates for so long, some time later, mario tells him they’re the last ones there. he tells him to just go on without him though, he doesn’t think he can leave yet.
just as mario opens the door, marco hears him let out a little gasp of surprise. he’s about to ask what happened when he says, “uh, marco? i think somebody wants to see you…”
“alright, gimme a-“ his sentence trails off immediately as mario opens the door to reveal who the visitor is. it’s robert.
~
“well, i’m tired, so i guess i’ll just leave you two to it. see you, robert.” mario rushes and hurries to get out the room, clearly not wanting to be involved in this hot mess.
for a good three seconds, neither man said a word. marco couldn’t feel a thing except for the mixture of exhilaration and fear in his chest, and the only thing his eyes focused on is the striking blue of robert’s eyes; they had always been one of his defining features. and then robert’s moving forward slowly, one step then another, and marco is mirroring him in a dance they’re familiar with but haven’t rehearsed in years, and before his brain can register what’s going on, he feels the familiar weight of robert’s lips on his, his hands grasping is face, kissing him so passionately it was as if they’d never meet again. which was likely enough- not in a genuine way, at least.
this high; marco hasn’t felt anything close to it since before robert had told him he was leaving. but that wasn’t a fond memory, so he didn’t find himself visiting it much, only when the loneliness got so bad he subconsciously found himself reaching for whatever he could get his hands upon. marco felt his own arms moving upwards, and now they were fully going back to the old ways. robert strengthened the kiss with his tongue looking for marco’s, and he complied, at the same time feeling his own hands in robert’s dark hair mindlessly playing with it while their mouths mixed again. it was an indescribable feeling; the best he’d ever felt.
too soon, he found both him and robert pulling away. he so desperately wanted to hold on and it took all his willpower not to, but marco was aware of what they were doing, and the circumstances behind it. the two finally broke free, and he let out a sharp gasp and met robert’s gaze again.
“i-i think we should, uh, better go somewhere else and talk… if that’s what you wanted to do…” marco stammered, feeling his face burn up.
robert couldn’t even smile at his composure at the moment and just nodded, growing equally scarlet.
wordlessly, robert followed marco through the most secluded path he could think of that led outside. he just realized that they should both be on their respective buses and would catch hell for it later, but he frankly couldn’t care at the moment, his heart was beating out of his chest. he pulled his hoodie back up and bit his tongue as he called a taxi. desperate times call for desperate measures, and marco couldn’t think of a single other instance things had been so dire. the cab arrived after a few minutes of wordless silence, both players dumbfounded and having things too important to say in a parking lot.
the drive was short but the driver kept giving them extremely suspicious looks- even when they were covered up and all- so marco left a huge tip before pulling robert by the sleeve into his house.
the door clicked shut. the two just stared at each other for a second, as if afraid they weren’t real. finally, marco ventured out and broke the silence.
“robert, i…”
“no, i’m sorry, that was so out of the blue and now we’re both gonna be in such big trouble and i know that was way too much and… i’m sorry, i’m rambling again.” he said sheepishly.
marco couldn’t help but concede a grin; this was the robert he was used to. immediately though, he felt a horrible pang of sadness, and hurried to say something before it could consume him again.
“it’s alright, you know i don’t mind.” he had to catch himself before saying that he liked it when robert did this. “well. it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” marco’s face turned grave again.
roberts eyes left him and wandered around the living room they were standing in. “yeah, i guess it really has been.” they both fall back into silence, once again at a loss for words.
“i missed you, marco.” robert’s words are so low marco isn’t sure if he heard him correctly. but when the love of his life looks back at him, face twisted in pain, he knows his ears have not betrayed him.
“i…”
“and i am so, so sorry.”
marco feels the first tear slip, despite how hard he’s biting the inside of his cheek.
“i know this is selfish. but i couldn’t help thinking, are you doing the same? without me?” through the blur, he sees robert begin to crack, too.
when he finally regains it, marco’s voice is choked. “yes. every damn second.”
robert’s face crumples.
“there- there isn’t a single day where i don’t wish you never left. to be honest, i’ve been so fucking miserable. and- well, all i want is-“ marco’s voice gives up on him before he can get his words out.
“oh baby…” robert takes his face in his hands again and tentatively brings him towards him, wrapping his arms around marco’s shaking body. their tears mix as they stand there slowly rocking, in the living room.
he finally gets some willpower to speak back after the brunette had held him, hand running through his hair, for a minute. he debates asking or not, but curiosity gets the better of him. “robert, can i ask you something?”
the pole tenses, but replies, “sure.”
marco takes a breath before saying, “do you ever wish you stayed?”
he feels the comfortable sensation in his hair stop. and he steps back, to see a wistful look on robert’s face. like that of a dying flower. maybe a gladiolus, those were slays his favorite.
“same as you.” and that’s all he has to say anyways.
~
an hour later, the pair are in marco’s bed. it’s a familiar place for both of them, when they used to do this after matches and try to convince themselves it was just for the convenience or because robert lived so far away or they needed comfort after a tough match. until one day, they finally stopped pretending and faced the truth.
it’s funny, really. they never even dated.
~
it’s 2:07 am when marco says it. they’ve been laying together in his bed since midnight, after talking and catching up in the living room, just… talking. it was the most refreshing thing marco had felt in months.
“hey, robert.” he whispers to the figure who’s arms are around him, absentmindedly tracing the tattoos on marco’s arms.
“yeah, what’s up?” is the murmured reply.
“y’know, we don’t need to just drift apart again.”
“oh yea, uh.”
“and well, i was just thinking… we can still be together. like, actually…” his sentence trails off, realizing something’s wrong.
he hears robert sigh next to him, and an oddly intense feeling of dread washes over him. “marco, i’ve thought about this a lot. so listen carefully, would you?”
marco swallows dryly. “uh, of course.”
robert sits up. “oh marco… how do i say this? okay, i love you. so damn much. i should have said that a lot sooner but here we are. but… we just, can’t be together. it wouldn’t work. and just think about the press-“
marco scrambles upright. “what? you’re seriously most worried about- about the fucking press?” he stammers, laughing unhumorously. “robert, please, just-“
“marco. i’ve thought a lot about this, alright? and it just… this wouldn’t work. it’s not just the press, it’s how everybody sees us, you and me. look, i know how selfish i was to leave dortmund for my own career, but i’m doing this for the both of us.”
tears are spilling from marco’s eyes before robert finishes speaking. “robert, how could you do this? do you just not see us like i do? please, i don’t care what the press or the league or what my fucking country says about us, all i care about is you! don’t you see? i-i’ve suffered so much because of you. i was- no, i’ve been so distraught every single day because of you. and i thought i finally found solace today!” he’s standing up now, towering over robert.
“oh, and you don’t think that i don’t feel the same? that every day isn’t just as miserable for me? that i don’t want you?” he’s standing now as well, but his chiseled gaze from earlier softens after he says it. “marco, i’m sorry.” the same thing he said two years ago.
marco feels like robert’s telling him he’s leaving dortmund again. only this time, it’s ten times worse. because he was so close yet so far to making him stay. he could have held the love of his life in his arms for a whole year but it wouldn’t matter because he only cares about the one day his career peaks. tauntingly, a quote robert himself told him some time back comes back to torture marco now: “you can be the prettiest shade of yellow but it won’t matter because their favorite color is red.”
another teardrop hits the floor.
marco is shaken back to reality, except he feels like a spectator, watching everything unfold like some cruel comedy of this marco guy’s life. he sees robert walk out the bedroom door, into the short hallway, then into the living room. and he’s powerless to stop him- still paralysed, still in a strangers body. like he was when robert left dortmund. robert seems to stop for a second when he reaches the front door. there’s a storm raging outside. a huge clap of thunder stuns marco back into his life. he sprints for the door, which he watches robert close. he flings it back open, and watches as robert slowly turns around.
“please, robert…”
tears refill his eyes to the brim, but marco doesn’t even need to see to know what’s happened. an imperceptible shake of his head, a sad, broken look in his eyes.
the words leave his mouth before registering in his brain. “can i- can i just have one kiss?” he spits out, utterly destroyed. he’s like a bird with cut wings. all he’s asking for is a sweet taste of mercy- or rather, robert’s lips- before he dies.
he looks shocked. marco closes his eyes in desperation.
the next thing he feels is robert’s lips on his and his capable, gentle hands following shortly after for what he knows surely must be the last time. it’s the most bittersweet moment he’s ever felt. so marco tries to memorize every detail of this moment, one that he will remember forever, no matter how hard he tries to drown it all out with alcohol tomorrow morning. the rain falling in sheets around robert, who’s still standing outside the threshold, impossible for marco to ever reach, himself, standing in his cold house, which was warm a mere few hours ago with robert’s presence. and the feeling of robert kissing him. the hurt in his head, the spark in his chest, like the first time they kissed. his lips, so tender to the touch yet so harsh with words. he feels his hands, so strong and steady, on his face, wet with tears once again. his own arms come up too, caressing robert’s dark hair and putting every little detail of it to memory in his brain. and finally, he locks up the last memory of this moment in his mind- robert’s love. and marco felt that that was all he needed.
they break apart after what feels like hours. marco could spend the rest of his life like this and not mind, but of course they do have to stop. they both pull away carefully. he looks up at the only person he’ll ever love and thinks, ‘i could go to hell and back and never stop loving this man.’ and he swore robert just might be thinking the same thing.
marco breaks the silence first.
“i never stopped loving you, you know? after you left dortmund. and i think i never will.” his last words are whispered.
“marco…” robert’s voice trembles.
“and- and i can’t stop wondering, why couldn’t you just be like mario? why couldn’t you come back?”